THE SALAMANDERS......................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. FIRE OF DOOM ...............................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE LONE TRAIL.........................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. THE BROKEN TRAIL................................................................................................10

CHAPTER IV. CROOKS AGREE.......................................................................................................13

CHAPTER V. THE TRAIL REGAINED.............................................................................................18

CHAPTER VI. THE VOICE OF DEATH............................................................................................22

CHAPTER VII. FOEMEN OF THE FLAMES .....................................................................................25

CHAPTER VIII. THE ODDS FAIL ......................................................................................................29

CHAPTER IX. THE THIRD CAMPAIGN ...........................................................................................33

CHAPTER X. THE THIRD CAR.........................................................................................................37

CHAPTER XI. DEATH IN THE DARK..............................................................................................42

CHAPTER XII. THE ORDEAL ............................................................................................................47

CHAPTER XIII. THE FIERY PIT........................................................................................................51

CHAPTER XIV. CRIME'S HOUR.......................................................................................................56

CHAPTER XV. THE DYNAMITE BOX CAR ....................................................................................60

CHAPTER XVI. THE SHADOW'S COURSE.....................................................................................64

CHAPTER XVII. DRUNE'S DECREE .................................................................................................67

CHAPTER XVIII. FROM THE SKY...................................................................................................70

CHAPTER XIX. THE FINAL FRAY ...................................................................................................72

CHAPTER XX. THE DEPARTURE....................................................................................................75

The shouts rose hoarsely on the midnight air. The glare of rising flames showed wildeyed men as they

Madness had gripped the town of Riverport; excitement of a sort that the little Southern city had never before

known. The crackling blaze that had come into sudden life was a threat that promised great disaster.

The fire had started in the Capital Hotel the principal structure that adorned the main street of Riverport.

A burst of flame; smoke pouring bodily through groundfloor windows; then demonish tongues of fire,

Faces were answering the shouts. White faces peered from upstairs windows. Staring eyes saw the flickering

reflections of the flames. Faces disappeared from sight. Occupants of the hotel were hastily preparing for

The wail of a fire siren split the night air. The alarm had been given. The clanging of bells told that

Riverport's fire engines were emerging to fight the flames; Those engines were coming to a hopeless task.

Nothing could stop that fire. The flimsy, wooden walls of the old frame hotel were perfect fuel for the

Within the burning building, commotion reigned. Men were dashing about, pounding upon doors, shouting

through corridors. Their one hope was to arouse their fellow guests, then make a dash for safety. There was

Nevertheless, in all that bedlam, there was one man who acted with calmness. He was the occupant of Room

408. His name was Harry Vincent. Aroused by a hammering upon his door, Harry had shouted his response.

Out of bed, he was donning his clothes by the light of the fire that other buildings reflected through his

There was a reason for this man's precision, his ability to avoid the panic that had overtaken others. Harry

Vincent was an agent of The Shadow. He was a man trained to remain calm in the face of danger.

Though he knew that speed was necessary, Harry had other thoughts than those of escape. He was

remembering the mission that had brought him to the city of Riverport, to register at the Capitol Hotel.

THE name drummed through Harry's brain, more vividly than the clanging of bells, or the wailing of the

shrieking siren. Woldorf was the cause of Harry's presence here. Like Harry, Woldorf was a guest at the

Harry had seen Woldorf in the lobby last night. He knew the man's room number: 411, almost across the hall

from Harry's own room. Woldorf had retired at eleven o'clock. He had left a call for seven in the morning.

Harry had guessed that Woldorf would take the eight o'clock train to New York. It had been Harry's plan to

do the same. Woldorf, for some reason not yet determined, was a man who feared a threat.

That fact had been learned by The Shadow. Threats indicated crime; The Shadow, always at war with men of

Bells were clanging from the street below. Water from fire hoses was fizzing uselessly, drowned by the

increasing crackle of the flames. The light of the fire had become a ghoulish, crimson glow. The glare

Dressed, Harry was ready for departure. An overwhelming cloud of blackish smoke greeted him in the

corridor. Harry was prepared for it. Burying his face in the bend of his elbow, he groped his way across the

Smoke had cleared partially, thanks to the draught created when Harry had opened his own door. The flames

had not reached this floor. There was time to make sure that Woldorf had heard the alarm. Harry pounded

There was no response. Smoke thickened as it floated along the corridor. Holding his breath, Harry backed

away, then launched himself like a batteringram against the door of Woldorf's room. Shoulder first, he

splintered the rickety barrier. Stumbling, Harry caught himself before he sprawled upon the floor.

Smoke had followed Harry's charge. Clutching like a shroud of doom, it was filling Woldorf's room. The

opened window sucked smoke outward. Flickering flame light became dim, but the glow remained enough

for Harry to view the room. Steadied by the broken door, The Shadow's agent gazed in horror.

On the floor, beside the bed, lay an upturned figure clad in pajamas. Harry saw a pale face, with lips half

opened, fishlike beneath a droopy mustache. Below was a mass of crimson, splotched and streaked across the

That blotted mass of crimson was Chester Woldorf's lifeblood. The man had been stabbed in the heart!

A CRACKLING drilled Harry's numbed brain. Yellowish flicker weaved across the inner walls of the room.

From somewhere came the muffled crash of falling beams. Harry turned about toward the corridor.

The fire had reached this floor. Brief minutes would make the room a trap. There was no aid for Woldorf

no time to search for clues. Harry had gained enough. He had learned what some assassin had sought to

cover; namely, that Chester Woldorf had been murdered before the fire had begun in the Capitol Hotel.

Springing from the room, Harry chose a direction away from the flames. Smoke had lessened. Though he was

choking, Harry knew that he would be safe if he could reach a stairway or a fire escape.

Smoke destroyed the lighting effect of the flames. It was only by pressing his hand along the wall that Harry

Harry stumbled as he struck the first steps. He caught himself against a rail beside the heated wall. A fist

Harry coughed his thanks. He turned his head as they descended. The flickering flame light from a stairway

window showed the features of the man whom he had encountered. Harry took the fellow for another guest

The man on the stairway was sallow of countenance. His hair was dark; his eyes, bulging, carried a blackish

As the man's face turned and grinned toward him, Harry observed a hardness of the lips that was matched

The hardfaced man spoke raspily, as they reached a landing and continued downward.

"Easily," returned Harry. "The smoke has thinned. We are almost to the second floor."

The hardfaced man was right. He and Harry continued their descent blindly, clutching to the rail. Harry took

a false step as he reached the bottom. His heel clanked stone. He knew that he had struck a side exit on the

Blinking in the smoke, he saw his companion. Ruddy light from the interior of the burning hotel showed the

"Hold it!" coughed Harry. He sprang across to block off his companion. "Don't go any farther! Those steps

The hardfaced man no longer wavered. He straightened. His grin was livid as he saw Harry, arms

outstretched, at the very top of the stone steps. A hoarse gasp came from Harry's lips. At that instant, Harry

Harry's cry told what he knew. It was all that the hardfaced man wanted. Before Harry could bring his arms

up, his leering companion swung a tough, swift fist. The punch clipped Harry's jaw.

WITHOUT an outcry, The Shadow's agent tumbled backward. Slugged clear of the top step, he went

Leering, the hardfaced man saw the final crash. Rolling over twice, Harry Vincent lay still and helpless,

Smoke enveloped the prone body. The hardfaced man turned about. As he stumbled toward the exit, it was

wrenched open. Rescuers from outside grabbed the murderer and helped him to the outside air. Coughing,

Smoke had totally obscured Harry Vincent's unconscious form. The opening of the outside door had brought

the smoke upward. Peering through the dense smoke, the firemen saw nothing. They stood, shouting at the

Fire crackled wildly from above. Walls trembled. Beams burst with a roar. Downward, a flaming mass, came

the whole interior of the old hotel. As the firemen leaped to outside safety, the walls crumbled.

From a blazing framework, the hotel was transformed into a pitlike furnace, where flames rose rampant and

The bed of that furnace was the basement where Harry Vincent had sprawled. No human being could have

Crushing timbers, ablaze from end to end; masses of flaming woodwork; an entire ruin that crackled anew

Survivors had scattered. Other buildings were ablaze. The fire had reached an office building; it had swept to

a garage in back of the hotel. Automobiles were being removed by frenzied owners. Puffs of flame formed

Firemen were everywhere, working like madmen to save other buildings. Riverport's small police force was

on hand. Tumult reigned as the holocaust continued. Volunteers were joining in the fight against the flames.

The ruins of the Capitol Hotel were forgotten by all men except one. He was the hardfaced murderer, the

last to grope his own way out from the interior of the hotel fire, alive. A block away, he was standing beside

an automobile. His face showed an evil gloat, his dark eyes surveyed the spreading flames.

The hardfaced man was pleased. He had slain Chester Woldorf. He had removed Harry Vincent the only

man who had learned that Woldorf was murdered. All evidence of crime lay buried in that fireseethed pit

The murderer's leer showed that he expected no reckoning. In that, the gloating killer was to find himself

SMOLDERING ruins marked the business section of Riverport. The spreading hotel fire had not been curbed

until dawn. Twelve hours more had passed; at last the fiery pit had cooled sufficiently for searchers to

Just outside the firedevastated area was an undertaker's establishment that had been called into service as a

morgue. There, searchers were bringing whatever objects appeared to be human remains.

They had made few finds. The principal exhibit at the morgue was a typewritten list of guests who had been

This list had been prepared by a hotel clerk who had a good memory. The hotel register had been lost in the

fire. One clerk, who had gone off duty earlier, had perished in the blaze. As near as could be guessed, there

had been about a dozen victims. The names of the survivors had been checked with a red pencil. The other

Among the persons who studied the list of names that afternoon was a tall, calmfaced stranger who had

arrived at Riverport on the later afternoon train. Though distinctive in appearance, he had attracted but little

In New York, The Shadow had read of the holocaust at Riverport. There had been no word from Harry

Vincent. Though the newspapers had classed the fire as accidental, The Shadow was sure that it had been

One was the name of Chester Woldorf. Though the public did not know the fact, Woldorf had been a man of

considerable wealth a shrewd speculator who had kept his affairs strictly to himself.

Woldorf had moved out of sight some months ago, to bob up at intervals in unexpected places. He had shown

by his actions that he feared some menace. That was why The Shadow had decided to learn more about him.

Fire had struck the hotel where Woldorf was located. That, in itself, was significant; yet The Shadow could

concede that Woldorf might have perished through an accident. But with Harry also named on the death list,

Harry, alert and on duty, ready for any emergency that might arise, would have learned of the fire soon

THERE was only one answer. Something had happened to Woldorf. Harry had investigated. He had met with

Walking from the morgue, The Shadow approached the ruins of the hotel. A small group of men were

clustered at one corner. Their discussion told that they were officials who had taken charge of the search. The

Shadow paused close by the cluster. Unnoticed in the settling dusk, he listened to the conversation.

"Some of the victims may have blundered into the basement," one man was saying. "A couple of firemen told

"That sounds likely," came the comment, "except that there haven't been many human remains picked up."

"There won't be. That fire lasted long enough to burn them to a frazzle. It was hot enough inside that fire to

"No. Old Millick, who owns the hotel, says the safe didn't count for much. It wasn't often that folks put things

The speakers moved away. The Shadow gained an immediate deduction. One hotel clerk had survived the

fire, to give from memory, the names of registered guests. The inclusion of Woldorf's name was proof of that

But there had been a second clerk off duty who had presumably died in the blaze. It was possible that

Woldorf had given the dead clerk valuables for deposit in the hotel safe. To The Shadow, the absence of a

The Shadow's answer was yes. His decision, however, was modified to suit the circumstances. The safe could

not have been carried away openly. It must have been removed in some secret fashion.

STARING across the ruins of the hotel, The Shadow saw the grayishwhite outline of other crumbled walls.

They represented the garage that had adjoined the Capitol Hotel. Skirting the smoldering pit, The Shadow

Between the hotel and garage was an elongated pit, half filled with debris. A man in overalls was poking

The Shadow approached the man and spoke an affable greeting. When the man looked up, The Shadow made

"Was this the storage tank," he questioned, "where they kept the gasoline for the garage?"

"The storage tank was up there, sir," he replied, pointing to the remains of the garage. "This was the cellar of

an old annex that used to run back from the hotel. They tore it down a couple of years ago."

"Yes, sir. 'Twouldn't have done for gasoline storage. Too close to the hotel. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered

In the dusk, the man noted that The Shadow was well dressed. He looked like a stranger who might have

"Maybe it was saved, sir," informed the man in a hopeful tone. "You'd better inquire down at the Southern

The Shadow headed for the Southern Garage. Strolling toward that destination, he checked his new

information. The old cellar in back of the Capitol Hotel had existed as an unseen route from the hotel to its

garage. Through that underground passage, men could have easily carried the missing safe.

To do so, they would have been forced to dare the flames. A dangerous task; one so formidable that it seemed

almost impossible. The hotel had burned with amazing rapidity; and the interval of action had, therefore, been

brief. These facts pointed definitely to a scheduled fire. They were bringing The Shadow along a trail that

ARRIVING at the Southern Garage, The Shadow entered to find a crowded floor. Cars were jammed into

every foot of space. No attendants were about. The Shadow pressed his way between crammed automobiles

There, a grimyfaced man was seated at a battered desk, going over account books. He looked up as The

"I came for my coupe," remarked The Shadow. "It was brought here from the garage at the Capitol Hotel."

The Shadow made no response to the manager's question. Instead, he merely continued his statement.

"Unfortunately," he said, "I no longer have the owner's card. Of course, I can identify the car. It was a green

"I know the car, sir. It's right inside the front door. You can drive it out without any trouble "

The car in question was Harry Vincent's. It actually belonged to The Shadow; hence his statements were

correct. The garage manager took them at their face value. Riverport was a town where most men were

The manager accompanied The Shadow from the office. As they pressed their way between stored cars, The

The garage manager turned quickly. He had reached the side of Harry's coupe; an overhead electric bulb

"For no special reason," replied The Shadow. "I suppose that few trucks choose the route through Riverport?"

"There was a truck here," declared the manager, biting at his lip. "It came from the burned hotel garage last

night. The men who brought it wanted storage here; I told them that there was no space. They kept the truck

The Shadow's query was impressive. Almost in spite of himself, the garage manager answered. His tone was

"I overheard one of the truckmen making a telephone call," he stated. "He was in my office, without

permission. He was telling some one that he would bring the truck on to Westhampton, about fifty miles from

"He was arranging storage at Westhampton, sir. To keep the truck there all day, in a garage. He said

something about driving on to New York tonight. It sounded like they didn't want that truck to be seen by

day. Right after that, the truck left here. It wasn't daylight; they had time to reach Westhampton before dawn.

With an amazing spring, The Shadow leaped into action. Coming from the front of the coupe, he interrupted

the garage man with a wide, swinging left arm, that sent the astonished fellow sprawling to the running board

His right hand jabbing upward, The Shadow stopped a swinging arm that was coming downward. A huge,

A MASSIVE monkey wrench in his clutch, the hoodlum had delivered a vicious swing for the garage

manager's head. Only The Shadow's swift intervention had prevented the crushing blow. With one stroke,

The Shadow had hurled the garage manager from the path of the deadly bludgeon, had caught the thug's arm

The attacker writhed. With a harsh oath, he wrested his sweatered arm free and took a sweeping sidewise

swing at The Shadow's head. The wrench whisked space. Dropping, The Shadow ducked the sweep by a clear

Bobbing up, he drove a hard fist straight across the thug's arm before the attacker could recover and ward off

Knuckles landed just beneath the thug's chin. An ugly gargle told how deep The Shadow's fist had driven into

the attacker's windpipe. The thug thudded floorward, his head cracking against the coupe's bumper.

The garage manager came to his feet and blinked. The Shadow was stepping aboard the coupe; the thug was

"Inform your local authorities," ordered The Shadow, quietly. "You will have ample time. That fellow will

"Say nothing about the truck that went to Westhampton." The Shadow pressed the coupe's starter as he spoke.

The garage manager was impressed by the hawkvisaged stranger who had saved him from a murderer. He

thought that The Shadow must be a Federal agent, who had trailed the missing truck to Riverport. He saw no

The coupe rolled from the garage. It swung toward the road that led to Westhampton. The garage manager

scurried forth and dashed toward the local police station, which was less than two blocks away.

AN approaching pedestrian had stopped short when he saw the coupe pull from the garage. Lost in the dusk,

this arrival watched the taillight twinkle as The Shadow turned the corner toward the Westhampton road.

With a growl, the man from the dusk hurried into the garage. Electric lights showed his features. He was the

hardfaced man who had steered Harry Vincent into the flaming basement of the Capitol Hotel.

Dark eyes showed an ugly glint as they saw the thug flattened on the floor. Hard lips uttered a savage curse.

Striding to the fallen thug, the hardfaced man raised the fellow's shoulders and growled:

Questioning Broddy was useless. The thug was senseless. The hardfaced man moved rapidly between the

packed cars. He reached the office, seized the telephone and quickly gave a number. He was holding a watch

Smashing the receiver back on its hook, the hardfaced man hurried out into the garage. He shoved an arm

under Broddy's shoulders and hoisted the thug into the back seat of a parked touring car. Springing to the

As he took the turn at the corner, the hardfaced man saw figures emerging from the police station. The

garage manager was bringing two of Riverport's policemen. They were coming on a vacant quest. They

Like Harry Vincent, The Shadow had crossed the path of a dangerous murderer. Driving full speed for

Westhampton, hard on the trail of the missing truck, The Shadow was heading into unexpected disaster. The

The lone trail had suited The Shadow for the present. It had promised him a chance to encounter enemies

who dealt in crime. But the encounter which The Shadow sought would be gained much sooner than he

THE road from Riverport to Westhampton was a lonely highway. For miles, it followed the river gorge

between the two towns. Sharp curves impeded continual speed but the lack of traffic on the highway partly

The Shadow had left Riverport at ten minutes of seven. He was managing an average of fifty miles an hour.

Fifteen minutes out of Riverport had carried him slightly more than a dozen miles along his way.

Hands firmly clutching the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, The Shadow observed the contour of the

highway. Every curve was different; yet all bore one point of similarity. To the right were rugged, towering

The rail was one that had been built to stand a severe test. Taut wires ran between stout wooden posts, fixed

deep beside the left shoulder of the highway. In all that monotony of posts, the ordinary observer would have

Certain posts had weakened. Though they remained upright, there were telltale depressions at the base, sure

signs that freshets had washed away supporting soil. Those posts needed strengthening supports. The Shadow

made a mental note of that fact. Curiously, his observation was to serve him well before his trip was ended.

Except for those infrequent weaknesses, the guard rail was strong enough to resist the onslaught of a tenton

truck. It needed to be strong. The river that lay below was deep and blackly sinister.

This gorge was narrow; its waters were slow, for the river was dammed some miles ahead. Fully thirty feet of

Mile after mile, The Shadow saw no other cars. He was traveling at the highest speed that any car could

maintain along this winding road. At a fiftymileanhour average, there was a chance that he might reach

Westhampton soon after the departure of the mysterious truck. Inquiries; new clues; then The Shadow would

resume pursuit. He was confident that a trail could be picked up at Westhampton.

The clock on the coupe's dashboard showed seven ten. It was the exact minute mentioned in the hardfaced

man's telephone call. Timed almost to the second, The Shadow whizzed past an obscure side road that led

THOUGH his headlights were pointing ahead, The Shadow was conscious of a small house nestled at the

outlet of the dirt road. His momentary glimpse gave him the impression that the house was deserted.

The impression was justified. Supposedly, that house had been vacated a month before. Tonight, however, it

was occupied. Peering eyes were stationed at a blackened upstairs window, to note The Shadow's coupe as it

The hardfaced man at Riverport had made a perfect estimate of the time interval. He had done better than

produce a haphazard guess. He had been familiar with the river road; he knew the maximum speed that its

curves allowed. He had assumed that whoever had departed in the coupe would be riding at the fastest

Gripping the wheel of the coupe, The Shadow swung hard as he finished a leftward curve. The road swung to

the right; then left again, to a jutting point that hung above the river. The turn was one that required brakes.

Safety signs showed twisted lines to indicate the sharpness of the turn. The right side of the road was a mass

The Shadow's foot moved to the brake pedal. There it halted, momentarily. His ears had caught a muffled

Almost coincident with that muffled blast, The Shadow's keen eyes saw a quivering of the rocks to the right

Some drivers would have applied their brakes, to stop short of the falling stones. Others might have preferred

to run the gantlet, hoping to get past before the hail of stones increased. To The Shadow, both courses were

He knew the meaning of that blast. Those stones were the forerunners of a manmade avalanche. A wall of

rock had loosened. Already, high above, a stretch of massive stone was dropping to overwhelm the coupe.

There was no escape for any car upon this stretch of road. Neither a halt nor a burst of speed could carry The

Instinctively, The Shadow chose a course entirely his own; one that was based upon previous observation.

A quick foot left the brake pedal. It drove the accelerator to the floorboard. Swinging the wheel hard to the

left, The Shadow launched the coupe straight for the nearest guard rail, at the river side of the road.

No time to learn if that rail was held by loosened posts. Chances were that the supports had weakened; for

here, the gorge was steepest. Conditions favored The Shadow. Speed, plus luck, should serve him. His hope

CABLES twanged as the coupe struck. They bellied outward like the string of a bow, threatening to resist the

The rear of the coupe lurched upward; as the wires sagged, carrying over a dangling post, The Shadow's car

As the car dived toward the gleaming water, a terrific roar sounded from above. Tons of rock crashed upon

the highway, shattering the concrete paving as if it had been flimsy pasteboard.

A mammoth cliff had been blasted loose, along a stretch of fully sixty yards. Dynamite, drilled deep into the

rock, had accomplished its devastating work in the space of three brief seconds.

As The Shadow's car hit the water, a landslide followed. Rocks buried the ripped guard rail. Scattering stones

poured into the river, adding to the splash of the coupe. The downpour lasted for a dozen seconds; then came

A feeble gleam showed dimly from the bottom of the river. The glow came from the lights of the coupe, sunk

at a depth of more than twenty feet. The gleam ended. In its overturn, the coupe had nosed in toward the river

Water had filled the interior of the car. Gripping the wheel, The Shadow could feel the pressure about him.

One deep breath, gained before the plunge, still served him as he waited. Half a minute of this ordeal would

Stones thumped the coupe, but their landings were puny. Slowed by the water, the chunks of rock had no

effect. The coupe was intact. It afforded complete protection while The Shadow remained within it. The

danger that faced The Shadow was the possibility that the entire car would be buried by debris from the road.

That, however, was unlikely. The Shadow preferred to chance it. Too early a departure from the car might

bring him up into a delayed downpour of stone. The Shadow waited a few more seconds, then gripped the

handle of the door to his right. The coupe had tilted on its left side. It was imbedded among rocks; but the

BRACING his feet upon the lower door, The Shadow pressed his shoulder upward. The door forced open,

against the pressure of the water. The car itself was filled with water; that rendered The Shadow's task

Crawling through the halfopened door, The Shadow gave an upward push. His body shot toward the

surface; those final seconds seemed interminable. Suddenly, The Shadow's head bobbed clear.

Propelling himself with hard strokes, he made sure of his selfrescue by swimming away from the bank

The Shadow found no current. He swam northward, along toward the portion of the bank which he had

followed in the coupe. Clear of the rockshattered area, he took strong strokes to the shore. Clutching clusters

As he gripped the lowest cable, The Shadow heard the purr of a motor. He saw a red light turning on the road.

A touring car was swinging about; it had come from the direction of Riverport and had stopped when it had

reached the fallen mass of rock. The Shadow edged down the embankment completely out of view from the

A moment later, a powerful searchlight glared above The Shadow's head. It formed a glaring path toward the

The searchlight's rays scoured the surface of the river, pausing near the very spot where The Shadow's coupe

The searchlight clicked off. The Shadow heard voices at the guard rail. He distinguished words that came in a

"That was the fellow we were after, all right. He'll give us no more trouble. Come along back to the house.

Men boarded their car. Weaponless, The Shadow had no way to deal with these murderers who had sought

his life. Beyond the guard rail, he was unable to gain the road in time to board the rear of the departing car.

Rising to the guard rail, The Shadow watched the headlamps of the touring car as they weaved their way back

ON foot, The Shadow followed. He had an objective; that house which had been mentioned. There, even

should he find no clues, The Shadow could remain for the night. Crooks would be gone before he arrived.

The Shadow had been balked in his pursuit; nevertheless, he had thwarted criminals in their attempt to

eliminate him. He had heard the voice of one man who must certainly be a leader of the crooked band. The

Beneath the towering slopes beside the lonely road, a grim laugh quivered in quiet night air. Fierce, strident,

WITH his hearing of the voice beside the guard rail, The Shadow had formed a mental picture of the man

who had spoken. He had visualized a hardened face with stony lips and sharp, glinting eyes. The image that

The man who had sneered his evil glee was the hardfaced rogue who had steered Harry Vincent into trouble

the same man who had visited the Southern Garage in Riverport. He had followed The Shadow's car after

That man of crime had left no trail. When morning came, he was far from the deserted house near Riverport.

In faultless attire, a cane beneath his arm, he was riding in an elevator to the fiftieth story of a Manhattan

skyscraper. With a cigarette pursed between his sallow lips, he looked like a New York business man en

When he stepped from the elevator, the hardfaced man went directly to an office that bore the legend:

The door was the entrance to a suite. The hardfaced man entered a large reception room and spoke to a girl

who was seated at a desk. His lips were eased into a confident smile; his tone held but a slight touch of its

Politely, the hardfaced man tendered an engraved card. The girl read it; then picked up a telephone. She

"Good morning, Mr. Drune," said the girl. "Mr. Gordon Colgarth is here to see you."

HALF a minute later, Colgarth was closing a door behind him. He turned to face a grayhaired man who was

seated behind a large, flattopped desk. Windows beyond showed a panorama of New York's sky line.

Withered of face, the gray haired man studied his visitor solemnly. Colgarth delivered a hard smile.

Approaching the desk, the hardfaced man produced a slender stack of papers and planked them in front of

Drune. The grayhaired man thumbed the papers slowly. His withered face displayed a satisfied smile. Drune

"Good," he asserted, in a cold crackle. "Woldorf was worthwhile. You had trouble, though."

"Not much," returned Colgarth. "There was a chap who looked like he was covering Woldorf. I ran into him

Drune's crackled query was significant; his face showed an expectant gloat. Colgarth returned a hard grin.

"The truck left yesterday morning." continued Colgarth. "I met it at Westhampton and kept it there until

"Not quite. Some meddlesome stranger found out about the truck. He slugged Broddy and headed for

Westhampton in a car. I was lucky enough to head him off. I telephoned ahead and they gave him the blast.

That was your idea, Drune, having that charge set in the hill. It proved useful."

"I read about it," chortled Drune, tapping a newspaper on his desk. "Down in Riverport, they think it was a

"There was one lost," put in Colgarth. "They'll never guess it, though. That car was bowled down into the

Drune had swung about in his swivel chair. He was staring through a side window; his face appeared

reflective. Colgarth expected a question. Instead Drune turned around. He picked up Woldorf's papers.

"We needed these," clucked Drune. "They are worth the trouble that we took to get them. Woldorf had

ambitions. He could never have realized them. This stock gave him full control of one holding company; but

"Only a trifle. With other securities, with options, this should be worth ten millions. But Woldorf could never

"WE had three objectives," he asserted. "Woldorf's holdings were the first. They have been gained. Next will

"Which will be easy," stated Colgarth. "The Salamanders worked perfectly at Riverport. They can do as well

"After that," continued Drune, "we must obtain the securities that belong to the Cruikshank estate, in

"We can handle the Sheffield National Bank. Everything is arranged, Drune. The torches will be ready. The

dynamite will be on the railroad siding. We know that we can count on the Salamanders. There can be no

"Remember, Colgarth," he asserted, "one job is not enough. We must hold all the securities that we need. We

must control every company involved. That accomplished, we shall have a fiftymilliondollar proposition. I

can make Great American Power dominant. You say there can be no trouble. There was trouble."

Drune's query was a sharp one. It made Colgarth wince. The hardfaced man had no answer. His eyes

"I shall tell you why," asserted Drune, his crackly tone harsh. He leaned across the desk and glared at

Colgarth. "Because he traced everything, step by step. He knew that Woldorf was in danger. He learned that

the safe could have been removed from the hotel. He went to find out about the truck."

"No one?" queried Drune, with a quick interruption. He chortled an ugly laugh. "Do you call The Shadow no

Colgarth blurted the name. His hard lips quivered, then gained their stony front. Drune watched the man's

"You're right, Drune!" rasped Colgarth. "It was The Shadow! I should have known it, the way he handled

"So others have thought," reminded Drune. "They have invariably found themselves mistaken."

Rising, the grayhaired man exhibited hunched shoulders. Tightening a clawlike fist, he pounded hard upon

"Be sure of nothing, Colgarth!" pronounced Drune. "Nothing where The Shadow is concerned! Unless you

see him dead, an absolute corpse, you can not be sure that he is gone. Even then, he should be cremated; his

"You say The Shadow is buried in that river bed? Bah! He is as much alive as you or I! Earth, water, even

fire those are mere elements. The Shadow can conquer them. Those tons of rocks that river "

"Earth water " he repeated the words slowly. "They would not suffice. But fire might. Very well, The

Shadow shall have fire. We shall see, if he is still alive, whether or not he can withstand the same ordeal as

"You're taking too much for granted, Drune," scoffed Colgarth. "I admit that the meddler could have been

The Shadow. It was also possible that he escaped death. Nevertheless, we can forget him.

"The truck has reached New York. Every trail has been covered. The Shadow if he lives cannot even

guess the secret of the Salamanders. They are ready for their next duty, here in New York. Then to Sheffield,

where my estate will be our final headquarters. The spoils are ours, Drune. Fifty millions will belong to us."

"We must cash those millions, Colgarth," He reminded. "Do you think we can accomplish it?"

New alarm registered on Colgarth's hard face. Drune raised his head. Wagging a forefinger, he drove home

"Sooner or later, Colgarth, The Shadow will divine our game. We accomplished crime in Riverport. We shall

succeed here in New York and at your home city of Sheffield. With the Salamanders to aid us, our work is

"But The Shadow will remain a menace, if we permit him to stay at large. Even if we proceeded too rapidly

for him to overtake us, our venture will be threatened later. We have only one logical course, Colgarth."

Drune chuckled as he heard Colgarth's question. Tilting back in his chair, the power magnate spoke sagely.

"The Shadow will seek a trail," he predicted. "Very well. He shall gain one a trail that shall lead him

"Yes. Where disaster will overwhelm The Shadow. You tried earth and water, Colgarth. I shall use fire."

Colgarth's eyes shone in admiration of his evil partner's scheme. Then a question rasped from his lips:

IN answer, Drune opened a drawer of the desk. He produced a letter. Holding it between his hands, he eyed

"Yes," returned Colgarth. "In the Greystone Building. His name, however, was not listed."

"Yes, if he is as good as he is supposed to be. But The Shadow will find no clues there. You removed them,

Chuckling, Drune held up the letter. "Chester Woldorf wrote to Lincoln Breel," he reminded. "That is how

"Breel replied to Woldorf's letter," continued Drune. "This letter came from Breel. Woldorf never received it.

"Very well," concluded Drune, in a precise tone. "I shall replace the letter where I found it. The Shadow,

"Neither," returned Drune, with a savage chortle. "We shall hold crime until a definite moment. We shall

"Will be The Shadow's own arrival. All will be prepared for that occurrence. Our torches will be ready; our

"They will be at their station. Everything will move as scheduled, Colgarth. We shall gain our spoils; and

Leering, Colgarth thrust his hand across the desk. Drune received it with an iron grip. The pact was made.

Colgarth departed. Soon afterward, Drune strolled from his office. Clad in hat and coat, the power magnate

paused in the reception room. In a dry tone, he told the girl there that he would return within an hour.

In his pocket, Huxley Drune was carrying the letter that he had shown to Gordon Colgarth. Drune was on his

LATE that same afternoon, a pedestrian stepped aboard a taxicab near Times Square. In level tones, he

ordered the driver to take him to the Greystone Building. Glancing over his shoulder, the taxi driver caught a

The Shadow had returned to New York. Hours of investigation had produced the result that Huxley Drune

had expected. The Shadow had learned of Chester Woldorf's office at the Greystone Building.

As he rode along, The Shadow studied report sheets. Aided by competent agents, he had gained some facts

concerning Chester Woldorf. The man who had died in the Riverport hotel fire was something of a mystery

Wall Street men had known Woldorf. They had guessed that he had money, but had finally classed him as a

speculator. Only The Shadow had divined Woldorf's real purpose. The Shadow knew that Woldorf had been

acquiring securities that would give him control of important holding companies.

The dead man had posed as a speculator merely to cover his real activities. He had succeeded, in that game,

so far as the public was concerned. The Shadow knew, however, that crooks had learned of Woldorf's true

Men of crime had slain Woldorf to gain his holdings. But of what sort were those holdings? Oil mines

Any one might be the answer. So might a host of others. The Shadow knew only that Woldorf had sought

mastery of some specialized field, that the dead man, though shrewd, had been honest in his efforts.

There was a chance that the riddle of Woldorf's purpose could be answered through a visit to the office that

ARRIVING at the Greystone Building, The Shadow entered the lobby in a leisurely fashion. Apparently, he

The Shadow noted the man behind the cigar stand. As he made a purchase and paused to light a cigar, he

observed the elevator starter; also the operators of all the cars that were waiting with opened doors. Well did

Satisfied that no agents of crime were watching, The Shadow entered an elevator and rode to the eighth floor.

When he stepped from the car, he waited a few moments, then chose a stairway that led up to the ninth.

Reaching the corridor above, he studied various closed doors. Sure that no lookouts were posted, he

The Shadow produced a ring of skeleton keys. His first choice was the right one. Probing the lock of 906, The

Shadow was rewarded by a slight click. He turned the key and entered the office. Closing the door behind

him, The Shadow pocketed the keys and produced a heavy automatic pistol. He laid the weapon upon a

The Shadow doubted that there would be a surprise attack in this welltenanted office building. Nevertheless,

Daylight was fading. The windows, however, still produced sufficient light for The Shadow to make a search

without betraying his presence by turning on the electric lights. There were two places that called for

Five minutes was all that The Shadow required to complete his preliminary search. In that time, he found

nothing of consequence. The desk drawers contained pencils, blank stationery and paper clips. The filing

Either Woldorf or some other person had cleared this office of all telltale contents.

The Shadow removed the drawers from the desk. Peering into the hollow, he saw something white. It proved

to be an envelope, stamped and postmarked, torn open at the top. The envelope was addressed to Chester

The Shadow removed the letter from the envelope. He unfolded it and read a brief, scrawled note:

Studying the letter, The Shadow promptly gained its full meaning. He had been right. Chester Woldorf must

have held control of important companies. To strengthen his position, Woldorf had sought some arrangement

A logical procedure. Every one knew of Lincoln Breel, wizard of finance, whose contacts were many and

He had gone into retirement, apparently soured with the world. But those who knew Breel held their doubts.

SOME day, it had been predicted, Lincoln Breel would come out from retirement and begin a new campaign

of finance. It was believed that Breel had acquired key stocks that would give him dominance in certain fields

No one, however, had hazarded a guess as to Breel's particular specialty. When it became known, it would

From one riddle, The Shadow had arrived at another. He still had no clue regarding Woldorf's plans. He knew

only that they must be identical with those that Breel had undertaken. That, however, shifted the mystery

What Woldorf, dead, could not answer, Breel, alive, could. At present, however, Breel was still absent from

New York. The postmark on the envelope the date on the letter both showed the correspondence to be

A soft laugh issued from The Shadow's disguised lips. A supersleuth, The Shadow had seen another

The deduction was plain. Had Woldorf received the letter, he would certainly not have misplaced it. Nor

would he have gone to Riverport, for the letter stated that he would not hear from Breel when he reached that

Woldorf had written Breel. Convinced that the financial genius would be interested in his terms, Woldorf had

The Shadow knew the answer. Some man behind the game of crime. There could be only one reason why the

rogue had not kept it. He had planted it in this very office as bait for just such an investigator as The Shadow.

Though The Shadow did not know the identity of Huxley Drune, he clearly traced the supercrook's game.

He knew exactly what Drune wanted. That was a visit, by The Shadow, to the home of Lincoln Breel.

Pocketing the letter, The Shadow stowed his automatic beneath his coat. He left the office and took an

elevator on the same floor. He had no further need to look for spies. He knew that the master crook would

In the lobby of the Greystone Building, The Shadow entered a telephone booth and put in a call. He gave

instructions over the wire. Facts were to be assembled promptly; all available data concerning Lincoln Breel

must be gained by agents and sent through to their chief. With such at hand, The Shadow would prepare his

EARLY evening found The Shadow in his sanctum the hidden abode that served him as headquarters in

New York. Beneath a bluish lamp, longfingered hands opened a sixbynine mailing envelope. From this,

Agents had done well. From Mann, an investment broker, The Shadow had gained accurate facts concerning

Lincoln Breel. The financial wizard's home was a secluded brownstone mansion in a block on the West Side.

Breel, it appeared, had chosen that locality because the houses close to his were untenanted. Breel had no

It was known generally that Breel had gone to the Adirondacks, but no one could give the location of his

obscure hunting lodge. Breel had not returned from his trip to the mountain region; but his arrival was

expected. Breel was accustomed to go and come as he chose, with no set announcement of his plans.

There were three servants at Breel's home; all were old retainers who had been in his service for many years.

From Burke, a newspaper reporter, The Shadow had a report that tabbed closely with Mann's. In addition, he

found a photograph of Lincoln Breel. It showed a heavybrowed face distinguished by a Vandyke beard. The

Shadow studied the flowing hair above the forehead; he noted every detail of the countenance.

The Shadow had seen Breel in the past; he remembered the financier's precise manner of speech in addition

to these facial characteristics. The photograph enabled The Shadow to improve his recollection of Breel's

appearance. A soft laugh whispered in the darkness above the shaded lamp. The Shadow picked up the

Soon, a light glowed elsewhere in the sanctum. The illumination showed The Shadow's hawkish features

reflected in a mirror. Set against the lookingglass was Breel's photograph. The Shadow opened a makeup

Dab by dab, feature by feature, The Shadow changed his countenance. Long fingers pressed waxlike

substance against the hawklike face. Molding his face, The Shadow built up the contour of his forehead. He

added constructive touches to his cheeks, filling them, tapering their shape to resemble the outline of Breel's

With spirit gum, The Shadow added a goatee that was a perfect replica of Breel's. His final touch was a wavy

This required rearrangement; artfully, The Shadow perfected the final feature of his disguise. He lifted the

DETAIL for detail, The Shadow's physiognomy matched the distinguished face of Lincoln Breel. Had The

Shadow chosen to visit Wall Street in this disguise, Breel's own friends would have passed the word that the

Wall Street, however, was not The Shadow's goal. His destination was to be Breel's own home, where

servants, instead of friends, would believe that their master had returned. As Breel, The Shadow saw

Schemers would be watching for The Shadow. Unquestionably they were covering Breel's home. Battle with

a cordon of crooks would produce no material gain for The Shadow. His desire was to enter the trap while

watchers maintained their vigil; to keep them lulled and waiting while he had time to learn all that was

Through this clever process of deception, The Shadow could arrive at Breel's home openly. By fooling

Breel's own servants he would be able to go through the house as he chose. The Shadow was planning craft

The light clicked off beside the mirror. A final laugh quivered through the sanctum. The Shadow was

departing amid total darkness; within the next hour he would be at his goal. The Shadow had prepared a game

Well had The Shadow planned; but he had not yet learned the full extent of Drune's machinations. Clever

Due to circumstances unknown to him, The Shadow was adding to the danger that awaited. In using craft

instead of stealth, The Shadow was playing straight into the hands of Huxley Drune.

IT was exactly nine o'clock when a taxicab stopped in front of Breel's old mansion. All was silent on this

obscure Manhattan street. One spot alone was free from darkness. That was the top step of the brownstone

There, servants had turned on a brilliant light. The glare testified that they expected their master hourly. The

light was to The Shadow's liking. It offered him an opportunity to display his guise to watchers from the

As the taxi rolled away, The Shadow ascended the steps. He was carrying a suitcase; he placed it beside the

door. Turning half toward the street, he removed a pair of gloves and began to reach in his pockets as if

The glow from above the doorway shone directly upon The Shadow's face. It showed the detailed features of

The Shadow showed annoyance at being unable to find his key. He thrust his gloves into his pocket. He

shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the door. With short jabs, he pressed the doorbell, in impatient

The Shadow had almost felt their presence. With sidelong gaze, he had spotted a vacant house across the

street, where shuttered windows tilted outward at a trifling angle. Behind those shutters were men of crime,

The Shadow gave no inkling of his knowledge. He had chosen to play the part of an unsuspecting man

The front door opened. A servant eyed The Shadow, then bowed in welcome. Entering, The Shadow handed

the suitcase to the servant, then turned to another menial who had also arrived at the door. The second servant

"Carry that suitcase upstairs, Yocum," ordered The Shadow, in a precise, but shortclipped tone. "Place it in

"And you may go, Tobias," added The Shadow, to the second servant. "I shall be in the strongroom, where I

THE SHADOW walked to the rear of the hall. Reaching an alcove, he paused before a heavy door. This time,

In the report concerning Breel, The Shadow had not only learned the names and descriptions of the financier's

Breel had a strongroom on the ground floor. It housed a large safe that probably held Breel's private fortune.

The Shadow expected a task with the strongroom door. The fact that Breel was willing to leave the house in

charge of his servants was proof that both the strongroom and its safe would be formidable.

The Shadow had deceived the servants completely with his disguise; but he had dismissed them abruptly

because he did not want them to watch his efforts at the door of the strongroom. He knew that they would

Picks clicked softly within the lock; but the door did not yield. The Shadow had encountered a formidable

obstacle. This barrier required patience. Once in the strongroom, The Shadow would have time to dally with

the safe. For the present, however, he had to remember the servants. Their possible suspicions could not be

Close against the door, The Shadow continued his probe. One pick was working. Deft fingers pressed. The

pick failed to hold. Carefully, The Shadow started to repeat his maneuver. He stopped abruptly as he heard a

Stepping from the alcove, The Shadow listened at the foot of the stairs. He heard the voice of the two

The Shadow thrust his face past the post at the bottom of the stairs. He called up to the servants.

"Very well." The Shadow spoke testily as he pocketed his picks. "I shall answer it."

THE SHADOW showed no haste as he ascended the stairway. At the top, he saw the open door of a lighted

room and knew that it must be the study. In dignified fashion, he walked past the servants. At the doorway,

Apparently, Breel seldom closed the door; but The Shadow decided to do so. Chances were that this call

Burbank, The Shadow's chief contact man, knew that his chief had gone to Breel's. To talk with Burbank, The

Despite The Shadow's caution as he turned the knob, the latch clicked sharply. The sound did not trouble The

Shadow. The two servants had gone downstairs; they could not have heard the sound.

A telephone was resting on a desk beside a curtained window. The receiver was off the hook. The Shadow

A harsh chuckle sounded from the receiver. It carried a gloating tone. That chortle was issued by Huxley

Though The Shadow did not know the identity of the master foe, he recognized at once that he was in direct

The Shadow had a way to learn. That was to continue his role of Breel. Impatiently, he demanded:

Drune's answer was raucous in its glee. Avoiding all mention of his own name, Drune expressed a fiendish

"You found my bait," came Drune's triumphant crackle. "You are The Shadow. You were crafty, to play the

part of Lincoln Breel. But therein lay your own folly. You, The Shadow, gave away your game. It was

"Breel is dead. His life was ended three days ago, by my own hand. His body lies buried deep beneath his

hunting lodge. When you entered Breel's house tonight, I knew you for The Shadow."

A pause; then with evil emphasis, Drune added: "You have served my purpose well. You came as Lincoln

Breel; you shall die as Lincoln Breel. Servants will bear testimony to the fact that Breel returned to New

York. You are trapped. I heard the click of the door that locked your prison. Earth and water did not doom

A CLICK followed Drune's prophecy. The Shadow was standing with a dead receiver in his hand. He

clattered it upon the hook. He swung toward the window and hauled back the curtains. Massive iron shutters

showed beyond the glass. The Shadow knew that the master fiend had seen to it that they were clamped on

The Shadow reached the door. The knob spun uselessly in his hand. Another of Drune's devices. Arranged for

Breel but never used. Murder in the Adirondacks had made it unnecessary in Breel's case. The selflocking

The door was massive, heavypaneled, as formidable as the barrier that blocked Breel's strongroom on the

floor below. It was an obstacle that no one man could conquer barehanded. It stood between The Shadow

For, already, shouts were proving Drune's prediction that fire would be The Shadow's foe. From below came

the frenzied shrieks of Breel's servants. They were giving the loudlunged alarm in one wailed word:

FRANTIC footsteps pounded on the stairs. The Shadow heard beating fists against the heavy door. Voices of

The Shadow waited until the hubbub subsided. Then, in loud, testy tones, he answered:

"No time, sir!" It was Yocum who gasped the cry. "The fire is everywhere, Mr. Breel "

There were scudding footsteps. The other two servants were fleeing downstairs. Yocum blurted something

about getting aid. The Shadow heard him dash away. With their last chance for escape, the servants had been

A hissing crackle told The Shadow that the servants had not exaggerated the menace. The odor of smoke was

heavy through the crack beneath the door. The Shadow realized that incendiaries had been posted in the

empty houses that adjoined this one. Paid "torches," they had fed the flames with oil.

Breel's house was doomed. Despite its stone walls, it was a fire trap, with wooden beams, laths that would

flame like kindling. Its fate would soon match the destruction that had overwhelmed the hotel in Riverport.

The Shadow had waited in hope that the servants might effect a rescue. He had entered this house as Breel.

He had intended to depart in the same guise, to prove his contempt of Drune's prophecy. That chance was

With quick hands, The Shadow plucked away his false beard. He tugged the puttylike mold from his face. He

THIS room contained no object that could be used as a batteringram to smash the door. Drune knew it: that

was why he had fully depended upon the trap. But The Shadow, himself, had dispatched a useful item to the

He turned to the suitcase that the servant had carried upstairs. Deliberately, The Shadow placed the flat bag

From the bag, he produced a black cloak that he immediately slid over his shoulder. He lifted a slouch hat

The Shadow then picked up thin, black gloves and laid them to one side. From a little pocket at the side of the

One bottle contained a black powder that resembled graphite. Stepping to the door, The Shadow poured a line

of powder along the opening at the bottom of the barrier. From the second bottle, he added a thin stream of

The last bottle held a colorless liquid. Uncorking it, The Shadow blobbed the entire contents along the line of

mixed powder. Wheeling, he crossed the room. Crouched behind the desk, The Shadow muffled his head in

A sudden blast shook the room. The air shivered as it compressed and coughed a puffing echo to the

explosion. When The Shadow arose, he sniffed a pungent odor that was stronger than the oily smell of the

The heavy door was loose upon its hinges, halftilted into the room. It was a barrier no longer. Springing to

the door, The Shadow wrenched an opening. He pressed outward into the upstairs hall.

The Shadow had come prepared to blast his way into Breel's strongroom, if all other devices failed and

entrance would have proved necessary. Trapped in the study, he had made use of the chemical powders that

he had brought for another purpose. The Shadow had offset the snare devised by Drune.

Volumes of smoke were pouring upward from the floor below. His head muffled deep in folds of his black

cloak, The Shadow groped his way downward. He was taking the outlet that Breel's servants had utilized; but

Even through the black cloth of his cloak, The Shadow could see licking tongues of flame, devouring the

Outside, alarms were clanging; sirens had joined with a wail. Manhattan fire engines were arriving; but even

THE ground floor was an inferno when The Shadow reached it. The whole front of the house was ablaze with

fire. Crackling from the other direction told that the rear of the building was a furnace. One spot alone offered

temporary security. That was the alcove in the very center of the house, where the door of the strongroom

The Shadow retreated to that refuge. He placed his hand upon the knob of the strongroom door. He

wrenched. The door swung inward. Firelight, vivid everywhere, gave The Shadow a complete view of the

The Shadow's laugh came strident amid the crackling of devouring flames. His sinister mirth was significant.

As at Riverport, a safe had been removed under the cover of a terrific fire. The strongroom had been opened

while The Shadow was still trapped in the study. Drune's henchmen had come, carrying Breel's own keys.

Outside, clangor told that no criminals would have dared to leave by any door. The Shadow knew their only

route. They had come through the cellars, from one house to another, until they had reached Breel's. Their

Beneath the stairway was a door, also protected in this alcove. The Shadow ripped the door open; he saw a

stairway to the cellar: He, too, had a route to safety. Through keen deduction, The Shadow had gained his

chance for escape. Stumbling through the smoke, he descended, yanking the door shut behind him.

Fierce flames hissed; a burst of fire swept the alcove. A wall tumbled; blazing beams covered the very spot

where The Shadow had been, but moments before. Sizzling, crackling, the fire roared like an angry monster

Free from the fire's wrath, The Shadow had reached the bottom of the steps. There was smoke in the cellar;

from the cloudy mass, flames were rising to consume wooden bins and boxes. The blaze, however, had not

The stone floors offered pathways. The Shadow groped through sweeping smoke. He knew that the cold air

His head enveloped in his cloak, The Shadow continued through the smoke. Despite his upraised arm, with

its folds of cloth, he could sense the thickness of the oily cloud about him. Suddenly, the atmosphere cleared.

The Shadow had passed through the smoke. He was near the outlet that he knew existed. The Shadow

Off to the side of the cellar was an opening in the wall. It was a passage leading to the house next door.

Flames, shooting sparks, showed that the adjoining cellar was ablaze. The outlet offered hazard. But it was

FRAMED against the glow of the passage were enemies, perhaps the strangest that The Shadow had ever

They were men, attired in bulky garments that looked like diving suits. Above their chunky shoulders were

round helmets with glass fronts, through which peered glaring faces. In this distorted scene, they had the

There were eight men in the group. Each was provided with a hose line that came through from the adjoining

cellar. Just as divers are equipped to fare to the ocean's bottom, so were these interlopers protected against

Massive gloves formed a portion of each uniform. With clumsy hands, these brawny invaders were setting

down a heavy iron box. It was Breel's safe, that they had lugged from the strongroom on the floor above.

The fireproof men had heard The Shadow's approach. They had stopped their departure in order to meet the

They were human Salamanders, these foemen of the flames. Like mythical creatures who could live in fire,

they had no fear of the blaze about them. Drune, the master crook had chosen fire as the cover by which he

could accomplish robbery. He had also devised equipment that enabled his henchmen to do their work with

The Salamanders had removed the safe from the Riverport hotel. They were carrying off Breel's strongbox

in the same bodily fashion. They were capable, however, of a different duty. They were ready to fight any

Odds were with the Salamanders. They could defy the flames. The Shadow, unprotected against the roaring

fire, was confronted by a double menace. The blaze was behind him; the Salamanders stood in front.

With clumsy hands, the human monsters were drawing pipelike torches from belts at their waists.

Thickgloved thumbs were fumbling with catches that topped the strange weapons. The Shadow could guess

FROM above, a crackle told that minutes of safety were few. The ceiling of the cellar was yielding to the fire.

Already, the stairs from the ground floor were on fire. The Shadow could see bright tongues amid the smoke

Venomously, two Salamanders were advancing; another pair were ready for the march. Creatures of doom,

they intended to drive back The Shadow at close range; to force him to a corner where either flame or

In coming from the upstairs trap, The Shadow had found another mesh, more desperate than the one that he

EVEN in this moment of complete desperation, The Shadow chose a course. He took the choice that no other

would have accepted, a return to the flames. Closerange battle with the Salamanders would have been

Whirling about, The Shadow plunged into the smoke at the front of the cellar. Beams fell, blazing. Flames

licked from the stacks of burning boxes. The smoke, itself, was blinding. Yet The Shadow leaped forward,

Escape was impossible up the steps. They were a mass of flames. The Shadow, however, had not intended

flight. As he reached the front wall of the cellar, he turned. From his cloak, he whipped a pair of automatics.

Smoke obscured the Salamanders; but they gave signs of their deliberate advance. Long jets of flame roared

from their blowtorches, jabbing through the smoke, blindly seeking The Shadow as a target. Those singeing

The Shadow had understood the reason for the prompt advance that the Salamanders had made. Their

blowtorches could work only at close range, within a radius of about twelve feet. The Shadow, through his

quick dart, had placed a full twenty feet between himself and the icemen. Through that strategy, he had

The Shadow jabbed shots with his automatics, firing toward the fiery jets that sought him as a target.

Somehow, his bullets seemed futile. The smoke the weaving firelight all distorted The Shadow's vision.

Moreover, only two of The Salamanders had led the advance. Despite their fireproof suits, they did not care

to come beneath a mass of falling timbers. Two thrusts of withering fire jets were advancing in the face of

The Shadow's shots. A few seconds more, those blasts would sweep The Shadow's wall.

Suddenly, one fire jet stopped. The Shadow had scored a hit. One Salamander clipped, he aimed grimly for

the other, pumping bullets through the smoke. The jet ceased; then began again. The second Salamander was

THE SHADOW ceased his fire. He waited amid terrific heat, close against the wall, one cloaked arm raised

to protect his stinging eyes. He realized why his shots had not been accurate. Blinding smoke had

One Salamander down, the other had wavered. When The Shadow had ceased firing, the surviving

Salamander had been ready to believe that his torch had found the victim or that The Shadow had succumbed

to the flames. That Salamander was returning to the others, to tell them that there was no need to stay.

Huddled in the smoke, The Shadow lingered, undetermined how soon he should proceed in the direction of

the Salamanders. His decision was forced by the blaze about him. A roar sounded in the cellar; the entire

stairway gave. A huge sheet of fire, the entire mass tumbled sidelong toward The Shadow. With it, beams

The Shadow took the only possible course. He hurried through the smoke, toward the rear of the cellar,

seeking the Salamanders in preference to the hot flames. Sparkshooting woodwork crashed about him.

One burning beam glanced from his shoulder. Half staggering, The Shadow stumbled clear of the smoke and

They were through the opening to the next cellar. Five were lugging Breel's safe; two were hauling away the

This pair saw The Shadow as he sprawled. They reached for their blowtorches. They were too late. The

Dropping their comrade, the two Salamanders leaped beyond the five who carried the safe, showing speed

despite their clumsy garb. The Shadow fired twice; again, his smarting eyes handicapped him. The

Salamanders had shifted, to present a broad side of the safe toward The Shadow. The bullets from The

Two cartridges were all that remained in that gun. The Shadow whipped up his second automatic. He did not

use it. As he aimed, a huge beam fell between him and the Salamanders. Blazing sparks formed a curtain;

The seven Salamanders were gone. The Shadow was caught in a seething oven. Even the stone floor was

scorching. Flames from the adjoining cellar told that the Salamanders had departed through another pit of

RISING, The Shadow followed. He stopped short at the opening in the wall. The Salamanders had gone from

sight. The next cellar was an inferno. Prompt death faced The Shadow. For a moment, he stood motionless,

A peculiar hissing hissed steadily at The Shadow's feet. Blinking as he peered downward, The Shadow saw

the Salamander whom he had shot with a chance bullet. The man's body was half beneath a burning beam.

Grasping the clothy shoulders, The Shadow dragged the Salamander to one clear spot beside the wall. The

rogue was dead; the reason for his deflated uniform was explained. It involved that steady hiss.

The Salamander's suit was of asbestos cloth, much oversized. It was rubberlined; the air hose, also of

asbestos, kept it inflated under ordinary conditions. The Shadow's bullet had punctured asbestos and rubber;

Nevertheless, air was still issuing through from the hose. It was cool air, that sizzled from the bullet hole. Off

in another house, the Salamanders had a portable aircooling plant, that provided them with air, not only

fresh, but constantly cool. They were protected against heat as well as suffocation.

The helmet was a metal framework, covered with asbestos cloth. It had not lost its bulk. Fumbling at the neck

of the helmet, The Shadow found a tiny lever. He pressed it the helmet came open. The Shadow saw a

Tugging the helmet free, The Shadow pulled at the Salamander's uniform and stripped it from the dead man's

body. The fire was encroaching upon this last spot of refuge. The heat was stifling; it was with difficulty that

His hands were in clumsy gloves. The Shadow found trouble in clasping the spot by the bullet hole. At last he

gripped it and twisted asbestos and rubber into one tight mass, which he held firmly with both hands. The fire

Keeping a firm hold on the punctured portion of the suit, The Shadow followed the route of the Salamanders.

His eyes could see clearly through the glass. He entered the next cellar and picked his way through a tumbled

The Shadow reached another cellar by following the line of the hose. In this house, the ceiling was still solid;

All seemed secure until The Shadow saw a motion of the hose ahead of him. It was moving forward, rapidly.

The Salamanders had reached their base a cellar free of fire. They were hauling in the loose hose to drag

THE hose tightened suddenly. As The Shadow groped to another fumefilled cellar, he could feel the steady

pull. Suddenly, it stopped. Off ahead, the Salamanders had begun to wonder. The Shadow knew the questions

The Salamanders must have guessed the answer. Until this moment, The Shadow had been conscious of a

hiss behind his ears, the working of a safety valve that prevented overpressure from the air that was

continuously pumping through. That hiss ceased. The suit dropped loosely from The Shadow's shoulders. The

air supply had ended. The Salamanders had kept up pressure in hope that their comrade was still alive. They

had known, though, that he could not march through to follow them. That was why they had tugged the hose.

The Shadow could not go on to meet them. Entrenched, the Salamanders would be ready with scorching

flame, once they had blocked the path. Without the air supply, the asbestos suit would smother its wearer.

The Shadow's one chance was to try escape from this house, two doors away from Breel's.

Divesting himself of the Salamander's suit, The Shadow again groped through the smoke. He was looking for

a stairway, like the one at Breel's. He found it and gained an unlocked door at the top. His path was lighted by

Drune's torches had seen to it that there would be fire here. They had made a long route of fire to cover the

The blaze, though furious, formed a shell about the inner walls. The woodwork had been oiled. The stairs to

the second floor were greasy; but the flames had not commenced to lick them. No longer encased in a

His speedy action was necessary. As he reached the top of the stairs, flames licked the bottom. With a roar,

the fire came ripping upward, dashing devastating tongues along The Shadow's trail.

Smoke was everywhere; but The Shadow found a doorway. He pressed into a rear room of the house and saw

an outlined window. With sweeping arm and shoulder, The Shadow smashed the glass. Coughing, he crawled

through to an outside sill, lowered himself to full length and dropped to a courtyard beneath.

The entire block was burning. Fire engines were parked by a rearstreet hydrant when The Shadow reached

it. Pausing in one sheltered spot that the ruddy glow of flames did not reach, The Shadow looked along the

The Salamanders had gone. There was no chance to overtake them. Creatures of fire had escaped with their

AN old roadster came along the street. It stopped abruptly near where The Shadow stood. Firemen shouted

angrily at the occupants, who growled in return. The firemen maintained that the roadster had no business

coming through this thoroughfare; the men in the car argued that they had no other route. The roadster was

As the car backed up on the sidewalk, almost at the spot where The Shadow stood, The Shadow sprang

forward to the rear bumper. The car had no rumble seat. Its rear section was a large luggage compartment,

The Shadow opened the luggage compartment, while the driver still argued with a fireman. Twisting forward,

The Shadow wriggled into the ample space. He let the container close above him but stopped it before the

The roadster jolted from the curb. The Shadow lay motionless within, puffing the air that came from a crack

at the bottom of his hiding place. Even this poor source of air seemed tinged with ozone. It was reviving

The car rode a few dozen blocks, then jounced upward on a ramp and rolled to a standstill. Growling men

were climbing from the front seat. The Shadow could hear their muffled voices; but he made no move.

He had weakened from his ordeal. His only course was to rest. When the men had gone, however, The

This scarcely improved The Shadow's condition. He was in an atmosphere tinged with the odor of gasoline.

Bare walls, dimly lighted, proved that the two men had left their car in a large public garage. Nevertheless, as

AFTER fifteen minutes, The Shadow resolved upon departure. He crawled from the roadster, steadied

himself upon the stone floor. He carefully noted the license number of the car; that done, he picked his way

through clustered automobiles and found a side door to a darkened alley. Stopping outdoors, The Shadow

At last, a whispered laugh sounded in the darkness beside the silent garage. The Shadow's tone carried a note

of triumph. The Shadow had done more than escape Drune's trap and the power of the Salamanders. He had

One reason only, could have brought that roadster along the street where fire engines were at work. The two

men in the car were henchmen of the master crook. Like others, they had been ordered to cover the departure

The Shadow had ridden with minions of crime. He had marked their car; he would remember this garage.

When crooks came here again to get their roadster, The Shadow would be prepared to follow on their trail.

REPORTS Of the fire dominated the next day's headlines. Throughout New York City, eager readers

devoured newspapers as hungrily as the flames had consumed the fuel of the night before. The blaze at

Lincoln Breel's had been one of the most startling in the history of Manhattan, excepting, perhaps, the

Only the heroic efforts of competent fire fighters had averted a holocaust. Successive alarms had brought out

hordes of fire engines. Roaring flames had almost obliterated the block where Breel's house had stood; the

firemen had fought valiantly to prevent the conflagration from spreading throughout the entire neighborhood.

It was obvious that the fire had been of incendiary origin. Flames had begun in half a dozen houses almost

That was the baffling point. Insurance men were puzzled. The houses in Breel's neighborhood belonged to

half a dozen different owners; none were heavily insured. The fire was classed as arson; but no one had

It was known that Breel had suffered financial losses in the past; also that he had counted upon regaining his

wealth. Probably, Breel had been working on some scheme that might have brought him back to Wall Street.

ASSUMING that Breel's plans had failed, there was sufficient reason to suppose that the financier was

disappointed with life. Men sometimes find curious ways to end a thwarted career.

Breel, always a man with dreams of grandeur, could have decided to imitate the Vikings of old; to consign his

Breel had been away from home. He had returned unexpectedly to New York. No one knew of his activities

just previous to his arrival at his house. Breel, himself, could have been the incendiary who started the blaze

The fire had begun immediately after Breel's arrival home, so the servants said. Moreover, Breel had

answered a mysterious telephone call. That pointed to paid helpers; "torches," who might have aided Breel in

Most significant was the report that concerned the door of Breel's study. The servants testified that Breel

seldom closed that door; they added that it had no key. Yet Breel had shouted that the door was locked; and

the servants had found it in such a condition. It seemed that Breel had deliberately cut himself off from aid.

There was mention of a muffled explosion that had come soon after the fire. That episode could well have

marked Breel's suicide. It silenced the objectors who claimed that no man would have consigned himself

alive to flames. The final theory held belief that Breel was dead, a suicide, before the fire reached his study.

Breel had wanted no rescue. That was why the job had been so thorough. Crazed, the financier had seen to it

Such stories intrigued the public. The morning newspapers began them; the evening journals snatched up the

theme and played it up with huge headlines. By midafternoon, the later editions had dug up old stories of

famous fires in past years. They ran photographs of fire bugs who had previously alarmed New York. Breel's

Any one might turn incendiary, so the newspapers claimed. They classed the craze with kleptomania. Any

man, thwarted in life, might turn hostile toward the world and use fire to impress his hatred. The burden of

TWO men were pleased most highly by the rumors that the press had accepted. Fellow conspirators in crime,

they were chuckling over a stack of newspapers as they sat in an office high above Manhattan. Those

connivers were Gordon Colgarth and Huxley Drune. They had joined in conference at the power magnate's

"It worked better than we planned it, Drune," commented Colgarth, in his harsh tone. "Everybody has fallen

"Absolutely," agreed Drune, dryly. "We should express our thanks in memory of The Shadow."

"To trap The Shadow, yes. But not to have him come there as Breel. That was his own idea."

Drune paused to chuckle. Leaning on the desk, he added: "The Shadow's own idea. A most clever one, to

come as Breel. A plan, however, that worked doubly to our advantage. No one will ever look for Breel's body

up in the Adirondacks. Nor will concern be expressed when Breel's safe is not discovered in the ruins of his

Colgarth arched his furrowed brow in questioning fashion. Drune smiled and spoke an explanation.

"Breel's supposed madness," stated the master crook, "has made every one the authorities included

believe that he possessed no wealth. Therefore, his safe will not be regarded as important. We, alone, know

the value of Breel's holdings. In fact, we know their precise value, for we have them here with Woldorf's

From a desk drawer, Drune produced two bundles and thwacked them upon the desk. Colgarth displayed an

"We are ready," declared Drune, "for our third campaign. We need the stocks that are in the Sheffield

National Bank, held there for the Cruikshank estate. How soon will all be ready in Sheffield, Colgarth?"

"Right to the dot. Give me pencil and paper, Drune. I'll show you how it stands."

RECEIVING paper and pencil, Colgarth drew four squares in a line, numbering them from one to four. He

"This is the old garage," he stated. "It is empty, ready to be torn down. The truck went in there this morning.

The aircooling system is hooked up. The passage is finished, underground, straight to the foundations of the

"This is the Sheffield National Bank," he said. "It is strongly barred; but its interior is old. It will burn like

tinder, once the fire starts. It is protected by an elaborate sprinkler system that "

"Which suits us exactly," interposed Drune, "provided that you have made the right arrangements."

"I have," returned Colgarth, promptly. "The water tank on the roof has been filled with gasoline. We did that

job a week ago, at night. All that I have to do is plant a potassium bomb, set to go off at the required hour."

"Yes. The bomb will be packed in combustible material. I tested one like it. The heat will quickly melt the

amalgam in the nearest sprinkler. That will mean gasoline, not water. Every sprinkler in the place will open."

Colgarth had settled the matter of the bank building. He tapped the third square in the row.

"This is the old depot," he remarked. "A sore eye to the citizens of Sheffield. They have petitioned often for

its removal; but the railroad has kept on using it as a freight station. You should see that depot, Drune. Low

"A block of stores," he explained, "with cheap apartments on the floors above. Well tenanted, as I should

know, for I own the block. I couldn't risk fixing the water tank; some one might smell the gasoline after the

fire reaches the apartment house. But Broddy and a crew put all the fire hydrants on the fritz throughout that

"Not in Sheffield. My home city boasts one of the worst fire departments in the State. Pipe lines are never

SUMMARIZING his statements, Colgarth lifted his pencil. Ignoring the first square, he tapped those that

"The bank. The depot. The apartment block. All in twenty minutes. Two hundred tenants in those apartments.

Picture the confusion, Drune. The bank building will be forgotten. The whole onehorse fire department will

"Meanwhile, we can blast the bank's foundations. Our tunnel will carry us straight into the vault. Leave it to

me to grab those Cruikshank securities and put a lot of phony stuff in place of the ones we need.

"I am a director in the bank. I have the necessary keys. The only list of the Cruikshank holdings has been

destroyed. No one will suspect a robbery has been accomplished. Best of all, I shall not be seen about town

"Yes. We will bring the truck to my country house, five miles north of Sheffield. You can await us there,

"On a siding near the old depot," replied Colgarth. "It came in this afternoon, in a steel box car. It won't be

"Yes. It is an advance shipment to a local quarrying company. They do not know that it has arrived. The

"Broddy will handle that at dusk. He is in charge of the garage. He will lift whatever amount is needed."

"At the blast furnace," replied Colgarth, "off in the woods to the west of town."

Drune nodded, as though recalling the terrain. He picked up the securities stolen from Woldorf and Breel. He

"I shall go to Sheffield with you," decided Drune, looking steadily at Colgarth. "There is one thing that you

have forgotten. I had intended to stay here in New York; but I think it best to accompany you and attend to

Colgarth looked puzzled, and then snapped a logical question: "Why bring up The Shadow? We finished him

"True. That was because he was on a oneman job. But he has followers and we must be prepared to handle

"Go to it," accorded Colgarth. "Suppose we meet at six o'clock and start for Sheffield in my car? We can

"After we reach Sheffield at eight. The bank stays open until nine. I'll stop off and leave it when I make a

"The ones still here in New York? Don't worry. I'll call them. If they start before seven, they will arrive in

Hands stretched across the desk. Men of crime joined hands in an evil clasp. Plans for the third campaign

The pair had forgotten The Shadow. They believed that he occupied the fiery grave that the public had

conceded to Lincoln Breel. Because of that belief, Drune and Colgarth had formed their plans too well.

Their last detail, regarding the coverup men, had paved a route by which The Shadow could again oppose

IN their frenzied search for details that concerned the fire at Lincoln Breel's, the New York newspapers had

failed to gain a most important item. That was not surprising, for the occurrence in question was one that

A new man had taken a job as a car washer at the West Side Garage, which was located near Eighth Avenue.

Car washers work principally at night, particularly in garages that depend chiefly on overnight storage. The

Hence the new man, applying for a job early in the morning, had been told to wait around until night. The

West Side Garage had happened to need an extra car washer. The manager was willing to give the new man a

Old hands at the garage predicted that the new man would not last long. All through the day, he had lounged

about the door of the garage, smoking cigarettes that hung downward from his droopy lips. His face was

listless; he seemed to lack the slight amount of ambition that even a car washer should possess.

The regular employees circulated the rumor that the manager had been on a "bender" the night before; that he

was so blearyeyed in the morning, he would have hired any "punk" who had asked him for a job. Certainly,

the dull appearance of the new car washer bore out the theory that the manager had made a poor choice.

By seven o'clock in the evening, the new man had become too lazy to even light the cigarette that he had

thrust between his pasty lips. He was leaning against the wall beside the door, his shoulders slouched, his

eyes half closed, when two men entered and walked toward a roadster that was parked in back of a coupe.

THE new hand gazed lazily about, to make sure that no other employees were watching him. Slowly, he

came to life; he shambled through the garage and came close to the roadster. One of the two men was at the

wheel of the light car. The other was about to enter the coupe, in order to move it from the roadster's path.

"All right, punk," growled the man beside the coupe. "Get a move on. We ain't staying here all night. We're in

The man flashed a sheet of paper. The car washer eyed it and nodded. Listlessly, he entered the coupe and

pushed aside a small satchel that was lying on the driver's seat. He pressed the starter; the motor thrummed,

"Say," growled the man beside the car, "what do you want us to do? Shove that crate out of the way?"

The starter whined again; this time the motor throbbed steadily. Gears clashed; the coupe went jerking

forward, to stall again near the garage door. The man on the floor joined his companion in the roadster.

"What a dumb cluck," growled the man at the wheel. "Did you hear the way he jammed them gears, Jing?"

"Yeah," responded the second man, gruffly. "But don't worry about that goof. Keep an eye peeled to see who

The roadster zipped from the garage. The driver gave a guffaw when he saw the car washer still trying to start

the coupe so as to reverse it to the place where it had been. The roadster turned toward Eighth Avenue. Jing,

"Sloopy" grunted in satisfied fashion. He slowed to make the turn into Eighth Avenue.

Back at the garage, the shabbydressed car washer had changed his tactics with the stalled coupe. The motor

thrummed instantly when he pressed the starter. The trim car glided backward, then darted forward without a

Eyes gleamed as a firm hand meshed the gear into high. The coupe swung out into the street. Its driver, no

There was a whispered laugh within the confines of the coupe; a token of the driver's actual identity. The

This coupe was The Shadow's own. He had sent it to the garage last night. Today, after talking himself into a

job at the garage, he had found an opportunity to move the coupe in front of the roadster. Thereby, The

He had looked over the two men who had brought him to the garage last night. He had lulled them into

thinking that they were unwatched. Finally, The Shadow had taken up the trail of Drune's two minions.

THE trail led northward on Eighth Avenue. The roadster reached Broadway and continued along that

thoroughfare. The Shadow recognized that the two crooks were bound for some destination outside of New

This was proven finally when the roadster neared One Hundred and Seventyeighth Street. It headed for the

Across that massive span, where lights twinkled high above the Hudson. Into New Jersey, then along a main

highway. All the while, The Shadow's car continued with the same traffic that carried the roadster. Confident

As yet, The Shadow had no definite knowledge of the final destination. He believed that the coverup men

were on the way to some new scene of crime. How far their goal might be from New York how soon they

Crime had first begun in Riverport, hundreds of miles south of New York. Crime had then come to the

Whether the third crime would be the last was something that did not concern The Shadow. He was banking

upon the one possibility that he could find the new scene soon enough to balk the deeds of evil workers.

Twenty miles outside of New York, The Shadow allowed the roadster more leeway. He knew this highway;

there were no important side roads within the next ten miles. Traffic had thinned considerably; The Shadow

Coming to a small settlement, The Shadow slowed his speed. He observed a gasoline station on the near side

of a dirt road. Beyond was a lunch wagon. Its lights showed the roadster parked in front. The crooks had

The Shadow pulled into the filling station. In drawled tone, he ordered the attendant to fill the gas tank.

IN a manner that befitted his shabby garb, The Shadow shambled to a corner where a pay telephone was

located. There was no one else in the service station; The Shadow was free to make an important call. He

gave the operator a Manhattan number. Half a minute later, a quiet voice responded over the wire.

The Shadow had reached his contact man. His conversation with Burbank, however, did not concern the

crooks whom The Shadow had followed. In whispered tone, The Shadow gave an order:

"Arrived from Texas twenty minutes ago," returned Burbank, in a methodical tone. "Crofton has shipment at

"Instructions," voiced The Shadow. "Transfer shipment to autogiro. Crofton to remain ready for new call."

Leaving the service station, The Shadow paid for the gasoline and started his coupe forward. He passed the

lunch wagon slowly; as he guided the car with one hand, he used the other to open the satchel beside him.

From it, The Shadow produced cloak and hat. Halting the car beside the highway, he donned the garments.

He then proceeded forward, his rate of speed no more than fifteen miles an hour.

Cars were roaring past the slowmoving coupe. The Shadow watched each automobile's approach in the

mirror and checked again when the car had swished past. Soon he saw one coming up behind him with the

The Shadow was right. He recognized the license number when the light car whizzed past. Jing and Sloopy

The Shadow had turned on the bright lights of the coupe. He waited until the roadster had swept past a bend;

then he clicked his lights to dimmers and jabbed the accelerator. The coupe showed an instant pickup.

He gained sight of the roadster's taillight within the next two miles. The crooks, had they looked back, could

hardly have connected the car behind them with the coupe that had been loitering along the highway.

The expedient of brightening and dimming the headlights, while simple, was sufficient to lull the men ahead.

It was necessary to stay closer to the roadster while connecting highways were near at hand. The crooks kept

At intervals, he closed up toward them, sometimes with bright lights, on other occasions with dim ones. The

pursuit continued. The coupe's speedometer registered the distance of sixtyone miles from the George

As The Shadow was closing in on the roadster, he saw its taillight slacken speed. The Shadow slowed; he

watched the light bob from view. Moving ahead, he came to an old highway that cut off at an angle to the

right. The coupe's headlights showed a sign that indicated the town of Sheffield as being four miles away.

USING a road map by the glow of the dashlight, The Shadow formed an immediate conclusion. The crooks

had certainly headed for Sheffield, for they had taken the direct route to that town. There was another turn

off, a mile farther on, not quite as short as this one. The Shadow decided to use the second road.

He gave the coupe the gas. The car developed speed that it had not previously showed. All during this chase,

The Shadow could have passed the crooks at any time, even though they had been driving the roadster to its

The Shadow covered the mile to the next road in a space of fifty seconds. Jamming the brakes, he wheeled

Few drivers would have dared to travel over fortyfive along this battered highway. The Shadow urged the

The lights of Sheffield showed ahead. The Shadow knew the town as a city of more than thirty thousand

inhabitants the focal point of a quarrying district. Though a railroad center, Sheffield was isolated from the

The Shadow's road joined the one that the roadster had taken. As he slackened speed, The Shadow knew that

he had beaten the crooks to the town. The road became the main street; The Shadow took time to study the

On his right, The Shadow saw a decrepit building that looked like an old garage. Past the garage was a

narrow street; then a pretentious oldfashioned structure that bore the name "Sheffield National Bank" above

its wide doorway. A clock indicated a quarter of nine. The bank was open for late business.

The next building beyond the bank was a squatty stonefronted structure with a wooden superstructure that

Looming above the roof was the beginning of a long train shed, chiefly of wood. A sign said "Freight Depot";

Through an alleyway next to the freight depot, The Shadow saw a line of railroad tracks that ran parallel to

the main street. Those were the yards of the railroad that served the city of Sheffield.

Just after the freight depot, The Shadow came to a business block. This consisted of one large building, at

least thirty years old. It was constructed of brick and wood. The ground floor showed store fronts, while the

As he neared the end of the block, The Shadow saw an important cross street. He decided to wait before he

reached it, as the roadster was nearly due. There was a vacant space by a fire plug. No policemen were in

sight. The Shadow pulled his coupe to the curb, turned out the lights, then watched from the cover of

THREE minutes ended The Shadow's vigil. The roadster rolled up and passed the coupe. Its occupants did

not even glance toward The Shadow's car. As it neared the crossing, the roadster pulled to the center of the

main street. A traffic light showed red; the roadster intended a left turn as soon as the light changed.

The Shadow eased the coupe from the curb. Another car had moved up in back of the roadster. The Shadow

joined the line. The light turned green. The Shadow swung left with the cars ahead.

Though he had gained no inkling of the fact, The Shadow had viewed the scene of contemplated crime. He

had studied the very buildings that had appeared as squares on Colgarth's numbered diagram. Drune, the

master of crime, had given his approval to a campaign of destruction. The Shadow, alone competent to

forestall evil, had unwittingly left the very place where trouble was due to break.

Nevertheless, The Shadow still had his trail. The roadster was heading westward from Sheffield. The Shadow

had lessened speed; but he was keeping the car ahead in view. Caution was necessary. The roadster was

taking to a highway that lacked traffic. The Shadow let the other car ride ahead.

He still had a way to trail the roadster. The road was hilly, with curves. By watching far ahead, The Shadow

could see the tiny lights of the crookmanned car. The gleam bobbed in and out from strips of woods. The

There came a space of blackness. The lights did not reappear. Rounding a bend, The Shadow saw a dirt road

to the right. He caught the glimmer of a taillight, a path of brightness beyond it. The roadster had turned off

Extinguishing his own lights, The Shadow made the turn. The wheels of the coupe joggled roughly on the dirt

Guided entirely by the red spot ahead, The Shadow sped the coupe through the darkness. His daring brought

him close behind the roadster, just before it took a bend in the road. The Shadow had reached a vantage point.

Close behind the roadster, he was able to drive by the glow of the other car's lights. His coupe, however, had

become invisible. Like a ghost car, it was trailing the roadster; the blanketing darkness of the woods

ALL was well for half a mile. The two cars crossed another dirt road; forty feet behind the roadster, The

Shadow was sure that the soft purr of the coupe's motor had not been heard by the men ahead. When trouble

The two cars had traveled no more than a hundred feet from the crossing when a glare illuminated the road

behind them. Brilliant headlights bathed both the coupe and the roadster. The Shadow's machine was caught

A third car had suddenly entered the game, moving in from the crossing that the two machines had passed.

IN his dealings with dangerous adversaries, The Shadow preferred quick action. Speedy in battle; accurate in

marksmanship, The Shadow had frequently conquered heavy odds when events moved swiftly. His greatest

tests came when emergency was slow to arrive. Such a condition gave foemen time to think.

The Shadow had entered a snare that troubled him more than the trap at Breel's. Almost at the end of a trail,

his plans had gone wrong. The Shadow had counted upon complete stealth tonight; he had been profiting by

the fact that crooks believed him dead. Without any warning, his actions had been exposed to the enemy.

The roadster was going to a rendezvous. The men in that car had been summoned to join their evil chiefs. The

masters of crime had taken a precaution. They had posted a followup car at the borders of their domain.

That third car, deliberately set to make sure the roadster was not followed, had found the dark coupe upon the

Given time for deliberation, the men in the third car would guess that The Shadow was the driver of the

coupe. Crooks had believed The Shadow dead on other occasions. They were always prompt to recognize his

One course was immediately possible. The Shadow expected to see the third car leap ahead to overtake him.

That would mean battle with the trailers; afterward a fight with the crooks in the roadster, who would come

back to join the battle. Such a happening would give The Shadow chance to deal with two groups separately.

The third car; however, failed to close in upon The Shadow. It simply matched the coupe's speed.

The Shadow pressed the accelerator more firmly. He began to gain upon the roadster. Instantly, the car ahead

Trying other tactics, The Shadow slowed almost to a standstill. The roadster slackened accordingly; the third

The men in the roadster had noted the coupe by simply looking into their mirror. The lights from the third car

Crooks were playing with The Shadow as a cat would play with a mouse. If he sought to overtake the car

ahead, the car behind would close in before he could overwhelm the men in the roadster. If he waited for the

car in back, it would not come to him. Nor would the roadster flee and open the road ahead.

CALMLY, The Shadow resumed a normal speed. The other two cars matched him with exactitude.

The dirt road was following an upward slope. The Shadow was content to keep along it. He knew that he was

being taken closer to his goal. That was well for the present. Later, however, it could mean a definite trap.

Analyzing the situation, The Shadow knew definitely that there had been no communication between the car

ahead and the car in back. Nevertheless, the two machines were acting in accord.

That meant one thing only. This precaution was a usual plan. Crooks had their instructions in advance on how

There was a chance that it might lie at the rendezvous the goal that The Shadow sought. There would be

other criminals there, to swell the numbers of the band. At the same time, wise crooks would be wary about

bringing an enemy straight into their own camp. It was quite as likely that the trap would be encountered

One mile had passed. The three cars were high upon the hillside, continuing on beneath the trees. The

Shadow could feel a rising urge for action; one that he repressed. He realized well that the average man in his

He calculated that the crooks had counted upon that fact. Whatever the trap, a clever schemer had devised it.

The Shadow was confident that he would recognize the snare when he encountered it.

HIS first inkling that the spot was close by came when the roadster slightly decreased speed. The slope had

lessened; the car ahead would logically have gone faster. As The Shadow slowed slightly, he noted in the

The roadster's headlights showed a slight turn to the right. As the car passed it; The Shadow observed a road

that went left from the curve. Immediately afterward, the roadster jogged more speedily; the car in back,

The crooks were giving him a chance to duck away. The roadster was going to the right; if The Shadow went

to the left, only the third car could follow. That would mean a single group of enemies. The opportunity was

the very sort that would appeal to a man in a dilemma. In fact, the opportunity was too good. The Shadow

The Shadow had reached the fork. Deep ruts to the left offered inviting tracks along which to guide his car.

Lights were unnecessary. The road to the left was bait. Nevertheless, The Shadow took it.

Had The Shadow stopped to take up double battle, crooks would have been prepared. His policy was to draw

them off their guard. By entering the trap, he could accomplish that important act. Wisdom merely told The

The roadster's lights had given The Shadow a fortyfoot glimpse of the rutted road. That was the full distance

that he drove. He could feel the ruts pulling the front wheels to the left, through absolute darkness. The

SOFTLY opening the door of the coupe, The Shadow listened. He heard the slight throbbing of a motor. The

third car had extinguished its lights. It was creeping into the road that he had taken. There was no sound of

the coupe; no flicker of light among the trees. The front car, too, had stopped.

They supposed that he was still in the coupe; that sooner or later, he would turn on the lights. If he did that,

enemies would surge upon him in the darkness. Perhaps the trailing car would smash down upon his coupe.

If The Shadow lingered in the dark, crooks, too would have the benefit of the gloom. They could attack, en

There was a third course: to drive ahead in darkness. The Shadow knew that his foemen must certainly

recognize that such was possible. Therefore, he decided that to drive ahead would mean a completion of the

snare. Waiting in their darkened car, crooks were hoping that The Shadow would push the coupe onward,

Standing on the left running board, The Shadow reached across the wheel and pulled the hand throttle on the

dashboard. The coupe's motor quickened its rhythm. The Shadow adjusted it to a moderate purr.

Pressing the clutch pedal with his left hand, he used his right to pull the gear shift into low. He shifted his

right hand to the clutch pedal. Slowly, precisely, he let the pedal move upward from the floor.

The action brought the car into gear. With a slight jolt, the coupe moved forward. The ground was level; the

car reached a speed of five miles an hour. There was no need to handle the steering wheel. The ruts were

Swinging outward, The Shadow gripped the handle of the door. As the car rode slowly ahead, he clamped the

door shut noiselessly. He hung free, ready at any instant to drop to the ground beside him.

He could see nothing; not even the opening of the road ahead, for the sky was clouded, as dark as the

overhanging trees. The Shadow had even extinguished the dashlight. The interior of the coupe was a mass of

The road sloped slightly downward. The whining coupe moved faster. The front wheels gave a sudden

jounce. Instantly, The Shadow dived sidewise to the ground. He struck sandy soil; his feet slid past an edge.

Gripping at rocks, The Shadow checked his rolling. He could feel a swish; he heard a mechanical screech as

An instant later, the car was gone. The sound of its motor had vanished. Seconds seemed interminable; at last,

from somewhere far below came the thwack of a tremendous splash that brought long echoes from the steep

walls of a stony pit. The coupe had plunged a full eighty feet into the deep, stagnant waters of an abandoned

The Shadow was on the fringe of the cliff. He had acted instantly when he had felt the warning. As he

crawled to firmer ground, he could hear the throb of an approaching motor. The men in the third car had

heard the splash. They were confident that the coupe's driver had gone with the car into the quarry.

They had moved up behind the coupe, knowing that its fall would tell them when they had reached their

limit. They wanted to peer down into the pit; to assure themselves that The Shadow had made no miraculous

RISING from hands and knees, The Shadow was drawing an automatic. He expected men to come on foot,

with flashlights. He was preparing to give them a surprise. Instead, the driver of the car was the one who

The fellow suddenly switched on the lights, to spot the edge of the quarry. Headlamps and taillight were

sufficient to show the outline of the car, forty feet short of the quarry's edge.

The car was still coasting forward; the glare of its headlights showed The Shadow. Instantly, the cloaked

The front of the car afforded The Shadow his only possible cover. Shouts were coming from the moving car;

guns were bristling from windows. Revolvers spat wildly in the night. Thuggish marksmen were too late.

Five in number, they saw The Shadow dropping in front of the moving car; the sedan's advance was giving

The unarmed driver snarled an oath. He saw a chance to beat The Shadow's game. He had thirty feet in which

to do it. The Shadow was only a few yards away. Gripping the wheel in readiness for a sharp turn, the sedan's

Whipping from the path, The Shadow jabbed quick shots from his automatic. He aimed for the steering

wheel, to cripple the thug behind it. That crook out, the sedan could not continue.

The Shadow could again use the radiator as his entrenchment. In his closerange aim, The Shadow was

accurate; but his leap was delayed too long. As his .45 zimmed its third quick shot, the fender of the sedan

Staggering, The Shadow reeled sidewise. He sprawled and lost his guns. He was clear of the sedan's path; he

lay flat on the road, was in darkness off to the side. But bullets were biting the gravel all about him. The

Savage shouts had sounded from the car as crooks stabbed wild shots that were ineffective because of the

sedan's motion. As The Shadow rolled to hands and knees, groping to regain a gun, he heard shouts change to

The sedan had not stopped; nor had it veered. The driver had slumped without the knowledge of the

marksmen who accompanied him. His foot had slipped from the accelerator; but the car was in highgear. On

The thug beside the driver was grabbing for the steering wheel. He gained it; the car swerved left on the edge

of the cliff. A door burst open; one frenzied crook made a dive for the ground. He was the wisest of the lot.

Though its left wheels held to solid ground, the sedan's right tires slipped over the stony edge. The car was

With a slow, outward motion, the sedan took a sidewise plunge. It was gone from the brink, the lights

obliterated. Long shrieks became trailing wails that ended in a splash more violent than the thwack of the

The sedan had carried four crooks as cargo to the fate that they had sought to bestow upon The Shadow. The

PICKING the exact spot where he had seen the crook fall, The Shadow found his foeman in the darkness.

Too jittery to offer resistance after his narrow escape from death, the crook subsided to the turf. His thought

of fight was gone. He feared the fate that had overwhelmed the others. Whipping the fellow's belt from his

waist, The Shadow rolled the prisoner on his face and doubled his legs upward. With the belt, he formed a

Carrying the prisoner well away from the quarry, The Shadow placed him against a tree. Producing a

flashlight, he looked about for his automatics. He found them, extinguished the light, then returned along the

A motor throbbed its presence. The Shadow recognized the jerky sound. Sloopy and Jing were waiting; they

had heard only the sounds of gunfire. Sloopy was peering from beside the wheel, growling because he could

not see through the dark. The roadster's dashlight offered a small glow within the car.

"It was The Shadow," decided Sloopy, in a gruff tone. "Couldn't have been nobody else. Thought they

A muffled cry from Jing. Sloopy turned. He saw gloved hands from the dark, over the right door of the

roadster, yanking Jing from the car. As Jing sprawled outward, Sloopy caught the gleam of fierce eyes. A

Yanking a revolver, Sloopy jabbed shots into the darkness the darkness where sounds of a scuffle told him

that Jing was meeting disaster. Echoes followed Sloopy's three shots. All was quiet beside the car. Leaning to

"You all right, Jing?" was his query. "Hope I didn't plug you, while I was getting him. It was The Shadow "

A dying groan answered from the ground beside the roadster. The tone was Jing's. As Sloopy winced, a

sinister laugh sounded at his very elbow, on the left side of the car. Coughing an oath, Sloopy swung about.

VISELIKE hands gripped Sloopy's throat. Choking, the crook dropped his gun He subsided, sidewise, to the

seat beside him. The Shadow came aboard the roadster. By the dashlight's glow, he bound and gagged Sloopy

Jing was dead. The Shadow had twisted him toward the car. Sloopy's shots had finished his pal. By rounding

the back of the roadster, The Shadow had completed his victory. Carrying Sloopy as a prisoner, he started the

Should this road lead nowhere, The Shadow intended to question the man beside him; to make the prisoner

One mile farther on, The Shadow skirted the side of a hill. He paused to study a distant glow against the

clouded sky. A puff of flame rose suddenly, then disappeared. Darkness replaced the shortlived beacon.

This road led to a blast furnace. The Shadow had recognized the flare from the faroff chimney. The furnace

was one that worked at night; most observers would not have given it second thought, for such plants were

He was seeking a supercrook who used fire as the means to cover crime an evil master of death, who

controlled the Salamanders as henchmen. A blast furnace would be useful to those rogues as a proving

The flare puffed anew. It was from somewhere along this old road. The Shadow drove the roadster forward,

THE puffs of flame that guided The Shadow were proof that something was afoot at the blast furnace. Master

crooks were at their isolated headquarters. Drune and Colgarth had completed their plans for crime; while

The two rogues were seated in a small, stonewalled room that looked like a crude office. They occupied

battered chairs; near them was a desk, with a telephone. A single incandescent light illuminated the chamber.

He was bound hand and foot, that captive. Stolidly, he met the glaring gaze of the men who held him

helpless. His face showed grimness; his lips remained unopened. He was ready to defeat all efforts that might

The prisoner on the floor was Harry Vincent. The Shadow's agent had survived the hotel fire at Riverport. His

present plight, however, was as great as when Gordon Colgarth had consigned him to the smokefilled cellar.

Colgarth, himself, was emphasizing that particular fact. In harsh tones, the hardfaced man was speaking to

"We know your name, Vincent," came Colgarth's rasp. "We know why you were at Riverport, watching

Colgarth paused to see if he had scored a hit. Harry's expression did not change.

"The Shadow is dead. Look at these headlines." He picked up a newspaper from the desk and pointed to

largetyped words. "They say that Lincoln Breel died in a New York fire. They lie. We rubbed out Breel

"It was The Shadow who died instead of Breel. He was finished by the same men who carried you from the

Riverport hotel. We figured we might make you talk. That's why I shoved you down into the cellar. But The

Harry did not betray the worry that he felt. He had no recollection of how he had been brought from

Riverport. His hurtling trip into the hotel cellar had left him senseless. He could recall traveling in a bumpy

truck; a final arrival in this stonewalled room. Since then, he had been a prisoner, confined to this one place.

HARRY feared that the crook's words were correct. Harry knew The Shadow's ability at disguise. He could

picture his chief arriving at Breel's, not knowing that the man whom he impersonated had been murdered

"You gain nothing by silence," insisted Colgarth. "We're giving you a chance, Vincent, because we don't

want any interference in the future. You worked for The Shadow, so it's a bet that there are others like you.

"Maybe you're thinking that we didn't get The Shadow, that we want you to squawk so we can find him.

That's not the game. The Shadow is dead, I tell you. He'll stay dead. You can't help him."

Harry remained unimpressed. Colgarth fumed. He was about to rasp new statements when Drone stopped him

Until this moment, Drune had said nothing. He had simply eyed Harry with a cunning gaze. Drune's shrewd

look had made Harry feel positive that the older man was the senior partner of the criminal pair, more

When Drune spoke, his tones were a dry crackle, persuasive because of their careful emphasis.

"Perhaps, Mr. Vincent," stated Drune, "we should clarify this situation. We know your name, thanks to

papers that were on your person. You, however, have not heard ours. I am Huxley Drune, president of the

"Possibly you have never heard of my company? That is not astonishing. Great American Power has not as

yet come into the limelight. It was founded upon prospects rather than actual assets. Great American Power

There was an insidious touch to Drune's prediction. The master crook paused to indulge in a dry smile.

"Our prospects," continued Drune, watching Harry steadily as he spoke, "depended upon three acquisitions.

First" he tapped his left thumb with his right forefinger "important securities held by Chester Woldorf.

HARRY stared. He had guessed why Woldorf had been murdered; but he could not understand how the hotel

safe had been lifted. He tried to connect it with his own peculiar delivery from the fire. He wondered how any

"Second" Drune was tapping his left forefinger "we needed securities owned by Lincoln Breel. I,

personally, saw to Breel's death at his lonely lodge in the Adirondacks. Later, we set his home ablaze. We

removed the safe that was in his New York residence. We now possess Breel's holdings."

"Our third and final acquisition," he stated, "will be securities that belong to the Cruikshank estate. Those

stocks are in the Sheffield National Bank. We shall remove them tonight. I might remark that we shall

"This gentleman," he remarked, "is Gordon Colgarth. He is highly esteemed in the town of Sheffield. He

owns property in the city. He is a director of the Sheffield National Bank. His residence is a country estate,

with a delightful old colonial mansion. It is located several miles north of Sheffield."

Drune's persuasive tone had become almost gentle. Colgarth blinked, then showed a hard smile. Puzzled at

first, he realized that Drune was using the best tactics. By telling all, the master crook was making an

Drune leaned toward the prisoner. Steadily, each word emphatic, he came to the climax that he wanted.

"We have killed," announced Drune, "whenever necessity compelled us. We have been ruthless, purely

through policy. Tonight, one hundred or more persons may perish. Useless persons, who will die only

"The Shadow was a threat. Therefore, we slew him. Previously we had permitted you to live, because we

thought you might prove useful. Colgarth has already expressed that fact. I need not dwell further on the past.

"The future concerns the three of us. Whether you live or die depends entirely upon your own choice.

Tonight, Colgarth and I shall possess all the holdings that we need. Our wealth, through proper manipulation,

"There will be a stir in Wall Street. One, however, that will excite no suspicion there. The only person who

might link our gain with crime are others like yourself. Men who once served The Shadow. We are willing to

grant you life because we know that you can offset the efforts of such persons."

Tilting his head in a speculative fashion, Drune spoke pleasantly of the future.

"You will live in comfort, Vincent," he declared. "Let us say in luxury. You will be a prisoner, yes, but good

behavior will grant you privileges. You will, of course, provide us with the names of all persons who might

"We shall watch such persons. If they do nothing against us, we shall ignore them. If they trouble us, we shall

let you warn them. Unless they persist despite your warnings, we shall not harm them.

"They are your friends, Vincent." Drune lowered his gaze and smiled benignly toward the prisoner. "You can

be their benefactor, by keeping them out of trouble. Your work accomplished, you shall have wealth our

DRUNE stopped. His withered face tilted to one side. His eyes beamed; his lips showed a mild smile. Harry

"What about it, Vincent?" queried the junior partner. "You've heard Drune's terms. They're fair "

"Come, Colgarth," he suggested. "Let Vincent deliberate alone. We may grant him a few minutes to make his

Colgarth nodded. He followed Drune toward a door at the front of the room. The two stepped through into a

passage. Drune closed the door. He chuckled softly as he and Colgarth stood in the darkness of the passage.

"That talk," remarked the master crook in a tone that was complimentary to himself, "can be classed as the

"You handled it great," whispered Colgarth. "There's only one question, though."

Drune's reply was an insidious croak. To Colgarth, it signified more than words. Drune was denoting evil

"So you fell for it?" chuckled Drune. "Well, Colgarth, if you swallowed my story, Vincent probably will."

"The fact that Vincent and those others all come into the class that I mentioned mildly persons whom we

must necessarily eliminate. Once Vincent has told us the names of all who served The Shadow, we shall do

"He will be our final victim. Come, Colgarth; we have given him sufficient time to consider my false offer.

Drune opened the door and stepped into the lighted office. He approached Harry and smiled in kindly

FOR the first time, Harry showed an expression. Looking up at Drune, he delivered a contemptuous smile.

Words were unnecessary on Harry's part. His disdainful look showed that he had seen through Drune's false

His eyes bulged from their sockets. His teeth showed fanglike, yellow and ugly against the duller hue of his

parchment face. Clenching his fists, Drune turned to Colgarth, whose hard face showed harsh anger. Drune's

game had failed. He was ready to vent his spite upon the prisoner who had defied him.

"We shall do without Vincent's knowledge," snarled Drune. "His death will mean one more meddler gone.

"Right," rasped Colgarth. He hauled forth a revolver and jabbed the muzzle toward Harry. "I'll give him

"Wait!" Drune's firm hand gripped Colgarth's arm. "This prisoner does not deserve so comfortable a fate."

With a leer, he added: "The Salamanders saved him from death by fire. We shall consign him back into the

Bravely, Harry Vincent heard the promised fate. He was ready for his ordeal, although he had no hope of aid.

Harry believed The Shadow dead; his chief, so he thought, had perished in a tomb of fire.

Despite the horror of such death, Harry felt triumph in the thought that he was to end life like The Shadow,

DRUNE snapped a command to Colgarth. The latter yanked open the door and shouted a summons that

echoed along the stony corridor. Harry heard the pace of approaching feet. Two brawny, roughclad men

The men nodded. Harry was hoisted upon husky shoulders. Helplessly bound, he felt himself being carried

through the darkened passage. The men made a turn at a corner. They came to a large door; one carrier

A fierce glow struck Harry's eyes; with it came a crackling roar. A blast of heat swept from the doorway. As

the men descended steps, Harry sniffed fumes amid the burning temperature. His captors strode twelve paces

forward, then dropped Harry to the floor against a wall. His eyes were straight toward the glow.

Directly in front of Harry was a pit thirty feet wide. It extended fifteen feet to a wall. That pit was a bed of

fire, an open furnace that matched all descriptions of hellish depths. Coals were banked high, almost to the

Looming from the wall at the left was a huge tube that evidently led to a chimney. Harry heard a whirring

sound; flames roared as a suction pump drew them crackling toward the tube. Fumes and smoke were sucked

Harry recognized that this must be a converted blast furnace. He guessed that the sudden suction had carried a

Such was necessary in order to free the room from fumes that no human being could survive.

HARRY'S two captors had gone. Despite the pressure of the heat, Harry glanced to the right. He saw that the

right end of the pit ended a few yards short of the wall. Harry saw grimy hands and bare, sweaty shoulders.

Stripped to the waist, three stokers were at work in a shallow pit. They were hauling out ashes from beneath

Large cans of ashes were stacked at the right wall, on a level with the path where Harry lay. It required tons

of coal to feed the fiery pit. Harry was puzzled as to the purpose of so large a bed of flame. He was to learn

the reason for it; but before the answer came, he was suddenly impelled to watch a happening at the wall

A short section of the wall was rising upward, like a curtain. Harry had taken it for stone; he realized that it

must be thin steel, fronted with asbestos that matched the dullish color of the solid wall.

The raised curtain revealed a ledge of sixfoot width. The ledge was some four feet deep; behind it was a

High above the flaming pit, Drune stood like a gloating sentinel. His glare focused upon Harry; the prisoner

Wavering fumes from the pit added distortion to Harry's view. He saw Drune as a demon, the controller of

Drune's arms were waving in command. Stokers swung huge shovels, to hurl streams of coal across the fire.

Flames roared their welcome to the fuel. Hungrily, they turned the coals into an added blaze. The suction

Again, Harry saw a mass of fire shoot up through the chimney. Fumes cleared and gave a better view of

Harry looked to the left. Coming through a door was Gordon Colgarth, flanked by two of the strangest

creatures whom Harry had ever seen. They looked like undersea divers, clad in bulky suits with glassfronted

It was Harry's first sight of the Salamanders. He understood, at last, how he had been carried from the

toppling, fireswept structure of the old hotel in Riverport. These asbestossuited workers were the servitors

who made crime possible for Drune and Colgarth. Harry guessed correctly that there must be other

More than that, he understood the reason for the huge bed of fire that lay before him. That pit was the practice

ground wherein the Salamanders tested their ability. The flames of the open furnace made as hot a fire as any

The Salamanders moved onward. Colgarth stopped. Reaching the spot where Harry lay, the monstrous

henchmen stooped and picked up the prisoner. Hoisting him high between them, they turned toward the fire.

Drune's hand was raised to halt them. The Salamanders waited, holding Harry, stretched face upward. They

Harry could see nothing but the high stone ceiling. He could feel the heat of the furnace; he could smell its

sulphurous fumes. He heard a whirred puff as the suction pipe operated. For a moment, the heat lessened; the

THE crackle beneath Harry's back was ominous. Tongued flames were sweltering, though their upward lick

did not reach the prisoner, who was borne seven feet above. Step by step, finding solid footing upon the live

Lowering their arms, they placed Harry, face upward, upon a ledge. Six feet above the fire, Harry lay like a

victim upon the altar of a Moloch. Drune, glaring down, represented the fiend who was prepared to deliver

Increasing fumes cleared as another blast roared up into the chimney. Turning, the Salamanders marched out

through the fire. They joined Colgarth at the door, as he waved for them to hurry.

Harry saw the Salamanders removing their helmets. He guessed that they were leaving with Colgarth upon

Stokers hurled new coals upon the fire. Flames licked the wall below the ledge. The fire was ready for its

victim. Drune reached to a niche beside him and drew slowly upon a long, stout, wooden lever that was fitted

There was a grating sound by Harry's shoulder. Looking inward, the prisoner saw the wall inch forward

below the rail. It pressed slowly outward. It encountered Harry's shoulder. Harry felt himself move toward

the pit, while hidden machinery clattered in response to Drune's slow, steady pull upon the lever.

The fire master was gloating. Stokers showed leers upon their sweaty faces as they watched Harry's slow

approach to the flames. They were proper henchmen for a fiend like Drune. The stokers took it that they were

Within the coming minutes, Harry Vincent was destined to lose his balance; to plunge downward toward the

whitehot coals. The fire was sufficient to burn any unprotected human to a crisp within the time space of a

Harry tried to buck the moving wall. The attempt was useless. He was at the edge. One bound elbow was

The fumes were bringing spasmodic gasps from Harry's lips. He managed barely to turn upon his left side

facing the wall. The move prevented him from falling; but it meant only a short postponement of the final

Drune paused a moment with the lever to gloat at Harry's plight. The stokers shouted glee that was drowned

Triumphantly, he looked toward the stokers. Two of them were gesticulating their mad joy. The third

With a wild, unheard shout, the third stoker pointed across the fire. His companions stopped their gestures to

At the door by which Colgarth and the Salamanders had departed stood a figure of vengeance. The lurid,

redorange light of the fire showed The Shadow. His blackclad form was weird against the reflected

crimson that tinged the wall. His eyes were burning with a glow that matched the fire's coals.

Gloved fists held automatics. One weapon was directed toward Drune's balcony; the other covered the stokers

DRUNE snarled. The stokers dived away. Automatics spat bullets before a crook could gain a gun. Slugs

clanged the wide posts of Drune's protecting rail. Other bullets sizzled the wall where the stokers had been.

The three underlings were taking to a doorway below, to get out of range from The Shadow's covering guns.

Drune was alone. Twisting backward into a narrow outlet, he had found luck with him. He had escaped The

Shadow's first bullets. He was under cover in his exit, except for his extended right arm, which bent from

The Shadow could not aim for Drune's clutching hand. It was protected by the steel rail of the balcony. As his

last deed before flight, Drune intended to give the final tug that would thrust the wall six inches farther

The Shadow aimed between the rails of the balcony. He took the only target possible, the wooden lever that

projected upward in full view. Bullets whistled in a swift barrage. They splintered the wooden rod, just as

Drune gave his last pull. The weakened lever failed. It snapped off in Drune's fist.

Promptly, The Shadow sidled to the left. He gained a new position one that gave him an angle from which

The master crook foresaw the maneuver. Too late to pull a gun of his own, he took another course. He made a

hasty scramble off through his outlet, just as The Shadow gained the aim he wanted. A .45 spoke half a

second too late. Drune had gone to overtake the fleeing stokers; to make a dash for distant safety.

The Shadow looked toward Harry Vincent. He saw his agent prone and motionless, on the very outward

portion of the ledge. Though the pressing wall had stopped, Harry was in a forced position.

The slightest waver of his body would cause him to lose his balance. Groggy from the fumes, Harry was

holding on to life through sheer instinct. At any moment, he might lose his slender balance.

Rescue was imperative; yet between The Shadow and his agent lay fifteen feet of roaring, freshcoaled

The Shadow saw the ash containers at the end of the short passage that fronted the fire bed. Swiftly, he

One of those ashfilled cylinders was almost a twoman burden; yet The Shadow hoisted it as easily as if it

had been empty. He swung to the center of the low front that ran along the pit. With a lunging motion, he

Flames wavered; they lashed the sides of the ashy path and fought to lick up through the surface. The Shadow

hurled more ashes; these went farther than the first. They spread halfway across the gap separating The

Another heave sent chunky ashes to a distance of twelve feet. The Shadow gave a final toss and sprayed the

The chimney roared. Flames swept across the ashy path and formed a flare as they roared through the suction

tube. Again, the ashy path lay clear and gray. Fumes had departed. The Shadow sprang across the low barrier

SLOWLY, each step steady, he found his footing in the furnace. Haste would have spelled his doom. So

would delay. The Shadow was using the process of the Oriental fire walkers, who tread barefooted through

beds of flame. Their secret was a burnt charcoal surface, with feet toughened by an alum solution.

The Shadow had chosen ordinary ashes, with leather underfoot. His protection was greater; but he was daring

Five steady paces. Eyes ahead. The Shadow saw Harry's body waver. Almost pausing, The Shadow made

three short strides, timing his steps to the minimum, counting upon Harry's fall. Forward went The Shadow's

As Harry, gasping, toppled from the ledge, strong arms were there to snare him just below the brink. Gauging

his approach to perfection, The Shadow had gained advantage through Harry's sudden relax. He had no need

He had caught his falling agent tightly; turning, The Shadow swung Harry across his shoulders. Stooped

The return was doubly dangerous. Fire had licked up through the ashes. Certain spots were unsafe. The

Shadow's strides were zigzagging ones. With the burden of double weight, he needed absolute surety in

footing. Any one of his eight steps could mean doom for himself and the man he rescued.

Steady steps served The Shadow; but his deliberate progress produced another sort of danger. At any

moment, the suction tube was due to draw another withering blast of fire across the failing path of ashes. The

Salamanders had not feared such puffs of flame; but The Shadow was not equipped to withstand one. Each

THE SHADOW reached the front edge of the pit. He stamped a scorched shoe upon the low stone barrier.

With an upward, forward spring he swung his other foot past the edge, down to the stone path beyond.

Quickly, he leaped entirely clear from the fire's edge and rolled Harry to the solid floor beside the wall.

Leaning back, The Shadow drew a lungful of fresh breath. He had been forced to breathe with caution amid

A tremendous roar came from the defeated fire. It was the expected suction of the automatic chimney, four

seconds too late to ensnare The Shadow. Flames rose and ripped in one wild sheet that lashed across the path

of ashes. The chimney howled as it delivered a puff like those that had served The Shadow as his beacon.

That surge of fire obliterated the ashy path; but its destroying force found nothingness. The Shadow had

NEW vigilance was The Shadow's move immediately after his rescue of Harry Vincent. He had witnessed the

full evil of Huxley Drune. He knew that the supercrook might return once he had rallied his scattered squad

Standing above Harry Vincent, The Shadow drew the automatics that he had replaced beneath his cloak. He

Satisfied that crooks were not returning, The Shadow put away one gun. While he held the other, he raised

Harry from the floor and started a journey through the outer door. The furnace blasted a puffy roar as its

Cool air seemed frigid in the passage. The contrast was so staggering that The Shadow was forced to ease

Harry to the floor. Two minutes passed, while The Shadow watched the brilliant doorway, ready in case

enemies should appear. The air became reviving. The Shadow stooped beside Harry.

There was no need to cut Harry's bonds. The Shadow broke them with hard tugs; for the cords had become

scorched. Harry's hands showed blisters; so did his neck; but his face had been away from the fire. His

Harry's ordeal had been a long one; but he was showing signs of slow recuperation. Producing a

handkerchief, The Shadow ripped it in half and used the portions to bandage Harry's hands. Slowly, Harry

moved; finding himself free, he tried to rise. The Shadow prevented him. He eased Harry against the wall.

Whispered words reached Harry's ears. Tones of encouragement that came like a voice within a dream. Harry

realized that he had been rescued; he recognized the tones as The Shadow's. It was unbelievable; so much so

"Drune," spoke Harry. "Huxley Drune the man above the pit he runs the game. Gordon Colgarth he met

Harry mumbled. The Shadow urged him to continue. In response to the commanding whisper, Harry spoke

"Woldorf Breel both murdered" Harry paused; his breath came in a choke "there will be other crime

HARRY'S tone subsided. He was sinking back with a tired sigh. The Shadow roused him violently. With a

"I was a prisoner," he recalled. "They kept me in a room like an office. Chairs there a desk a telephone.

Harry gulped as he leaned forward. He could see the vivid glow from the furnace room. He heard a puffing

roar from beyond that door. His nerves began to buckle. Harry sagged backward. The Shadow gripped him.

The strength of that clasp restored Harry's fading confidence. He rallied as The Shadow drew him to his feet.

The Shadow led the way along the passage. He reached the end away from the furnace room. He guided

The Shadow had entered from the other direction, through a doorway that he had found when he reached the

building that housed the blast furnace. He knew, therefore, that Harry must have been brought from the

opposite end of the passage. The Shadow wanted to locate the office that Harry had mentioned.

Using a flashlight, The Shadow found the door. He opened it, discovered the hanging light and turned it on.

He saw the desk; placing Harry in a chair, he picked up the telephone. A few clicks of the receiver hook

brought a response from the operator. In careful tones, The Shadow gave a New York number.

Harry had told The Shadow where crime was due. It would strike in Sheffield, with the Sheffield National

Bank as its goal. The Shadow knew that crooks would again use fire as their main weapon. Given time, he

"Autogiro to leave at once," he instructed. "Make landing at the airport near Sheffield, New Jersey. Await

The Shadow had made plans for the mysterious shipment that had come from Texas. Crofton had by this time

transferred it to the autogiro at the Newark Airport. He would have the autogiro at the Sheffield Airport

There was a chance that crime would strike before the ship arrived. The Shadow must warn the authorities in

Sheffield. He clicked the receiver to recall the Sheffield operator. There was a halfminute delay; then the

The line was dead. The Shadow clicked the receiver hook twice, then jounced the telephone upon the desk.

Drune's work. The master crook had rallied his men somewhere outside. They had cut the telephone wire.

The Shadow turned to Harry for more facts. Revived, the rescued agent gave them.

"Colgarth left with two Salamanders," stated Harry. "The rest are probably in Sheffield. Colgarth has a

THE SHADOW nodded. He could picture the country estate as the new headquarters. A stronghold to which

The Shadow had not encountered Colgarth and the Salamanders; but he had heard a car pulling away from

one side of the blast furnace while he had been stowing the roadster in the woods beyond the building.

It was time for quick action. First, to make sure that Drune was not still about; after that, to reach Sheffield

with the utmost speed. The Shadow had formed an instantaneous picture of the situation. The old garage as

headquarters for the Salamanders; the Sheffield National Bank as the building to be burned.

More than that, he recognized what Harry had meant by a hundred lives in danger. The Shadow remembered

the old freight depot; the apartment house beyond it. As clearly as if he had Colgarth's diagram in front of

The call to Burbank had been important; but it would be useless if the blaze began too soon. The warning to

the Sheffield authorities had been The Shadow's alternate move; Drune had tidily balked it. The Shadow's

The Shadow paused long enough to add new cartridges to his halfemptied automatics. Producing an

additional weapon, he handed it to Harry. With a sharp order, The Shadow clicked off the light, then used his

When they reached the chilly outdoors, The Shadow extinguished his torch. Clutching Harry's arm, he drew

his companion through the darkness. They groped past trees; The Shadow found the roadster. He turned on

Without ceremony, The Shadow hauled the crook to the ground and rolled him close beside a tree. He

motioned Harry into the car, then took the wheel. The motor hummed as The Shadow pressed the starter. The

Harry gripped his automatic as he heard The Shadow's order. The Shadow was driving with one hand,

gripping a .45 with the other. He turned on the lights; they showed the road ahead. Harry realized that if they

encountered an ambush, The Shadow's plan would be to run it rather than delay the dash to Sheffield.

HARRY'S guess was right. Nevertheless, he had by no means pictured the full extent of The Shadow's

The Shadow knew that Drune had remained with three henchmen; but they were probably the poorest fighters

in his band. Otherwise, they would not have been delegated to their job as stokers. Furthermore, they had

Knowing The Shadow's prowess, doubtlessly amazed by the fact that he had reappeared, Drune would be too

wary to attempt a hurried ambush with three inferior underlings as his only backers. There were others upon

Drune and his minions, driving away in a car, would keep on until they reached the crossing of the two dirt

roads. There, they would expect to find a sedan manned by five sure marksmen. Drune, knowing The

Shadow's skill at stealth, would naturally suppose that he had maneuvered past the sedan. The master crook

would not jump to the incredible belief that the sedan was at the bottom of the old abandoned quarry.

Not finding the sedan, Drune's only move would be to deploy his three stokers. The ambush would be a

forced one, not at all to Drune's liking. Much as he wanted to hold back The Shadow, he would be thinking of

The roadster roared along the road. Harry gripped the braces of the raised top. He could foresee a quick, sure

ride through any early ambush. He did not know that The Shadow was accomplishing another purpose. By

his terrific speed, The Shadow was lessening the space of time that Drune would have for preparations at the

They whizzed past the rutted road to the quarry. Down the long hill; then The Shadow pressed the clutch

pedal and turned off the ignition. He turned the key on again, a few moments later, but the motor did not

The lights went off; the roadster coasted silently in darkness. The last glimpse along the road had shown The

Shadow that they were past the bend, rolling on a straight stretch to the crossing. Only the creak of the car's

springs gave token of the approach. Even that sound ceased as the roadster struck a smoother piece of road,

"Ready," whispered The Shadow. "Aim to the right. Thirty degrees forward. Three shots "

A pause. The Shadow was aiming similarly to the left. The roadster creaked slowly onward.

Simultaneously, The Shadow and Harry each discharged three rounds. The shots ripped from each side of the

YELLS sounded from the left. A motor roared as its driver jabbed the starter. Lights clicked into view. A

taillight formed a target less than fifty feet away. The Shadow gave Harry a quick command:

Leaning across the wheel, Harry used his right hand; The Shadow fired with his left. They were at the center

The other machine had been waiting, headed away from the crossing. It shot forward with terrific speed,

darting madly toward a bend. There was not a single answering bullet. The occupants of the car had chosen

The Shadow did not halt. Instead, he threw in the clutch. The motor throbbed; The Shadow drove the roadster

The master of crime had lain in wait, his minions ready with their guns. Had they scented the roadster's

The Shadow had decided that Drune's car would be headed away, ready for flight if the ambush failed. He

had called for fire to both sides, so the enemy's car would surely be a possible target, on whichever road

The shots from the night had totally surprised the crooks. Drune had instantly supposed that his location was

known. He had jumped to his other plan; a speedy trip to Colgarth's. The absence of the coverup crew in the

sedan had made Drune qualmish. He wanted a bigger band before he dared The Shadow's power again.

The Shadow had let Drune go. Quick shots had not been sufficient to stop the master schemer's departure.

Moreover, The Shadow had seen a double purpose in Drune's flight. Drune wanted to draw The Shadow on a

The roadster was at the highway. The Shadow gave full speed along the paved road. Roaring, quivering at

every jolt, the light car was riding at its limit. The steering gear was old; the wheel gave a warning shimmy

BOUNCING over a final hill, the roadster came in sight of Sheffield. Neither The Shadow nor Harry noted

the outspread twinkle of the city's lights. Their eyes were captured by a greater glow.

A mammoth torch glared red against the sky. The light showed a mass of billowy black smoke. It made a

brilliant outline of the building from which the fire issued. The hour of crime had arrived.

The Sheffield National Bank was ablaze. Sprinkled gasoline had done its work. Flames were raging from the

roof, licking the water tank that contained gallons more of gasoline. Fanning winds were sweeping the flames

The center of the little city lay full in the fire's path. Destruction had begun despite The Shadow.

IT was a fiveminutes ride to Sheffield. Five mad minutes, at The Shadow's furious clip. Not one second

The flames from the bank building had appeared with such suddenness that the origin of the fire could not be

held in doubt. Here was a holocaust more terrible than that which had destroyed the hotel in Riverport; a

It was nearly eleven o'clock, a late hour for Sheffield. The fire had begun without a warning; its swift sweep

was the sort that would produce chaos. Panic was due in the doomed city. Only quick and efficient work

could avert it. The Shadow intended to do his utmost, although he knew that the evil had struck too soon.

His one preparation against this new thrust by fire depended upon his autogiro's arrival. It was less than half

an hour since The Shadow had called Burbank. Crofton would not reach Sheffield within the next twenty

minutes; he would halt at the airport, a few miles south of town. By the time The Shadow could gain his ship,

Hence The Shadow swung straight into town, trusting to the bare hope that he might gain some opportunity

to organize whatever firemen he found. Sirens were screeching when he arrived; two fire engines were

The only chance was to convince the fire fighters that their task was useless; to send them scurrying to warn

the people in the apartment house beyond the depot. Soon the scorching flames would be there. Scores of

As The Shadow swung to the curb beside the fire engines, a horn squawked from the corner. A red

automobile skidded into view and rolled past the roadster. A brawny, beefyfaced man jumped to the curb.

The fire chief turned to view the highflung fire, which was licking the posts of the squatty watertank atop

the bank. He was ready to stride to the fire engines when a uniformed man came dashing toward him, waving

The fire chief met the newcomer; The Shadow recognized that the second man must be the chief of police.

QUICKLY, The Shadow grabbed Harry's arm. He had been about to order his agent from the car. On the

point of discarding his cloak and hat, The Shadow, too, intended to join the crowd that was gathering near the

Despite the shabby clothes that he wore beneath his cloak, The Shadow had a persuasive power that would

rally men to proper action. This meeting on the sidewalk, however, promised some important consequences.

"Will the water tank stop it," he bawled, to the fire chief, "or is it going to spread?"

"Chances are the tank is empty," shouted back the fire chief, above the hideous noise of the flames. The

The fire chief had not guessed that the water tank was filled with gasoline. Nevertheless, the man had spoken

sense. The Shadow waited, despite the loss of valuable seconds. He was sure that more news was due.

Neither had thought of consequences after the depot caught fire. They did not realize the fate that was due the

business block with its many apartments. Nevertheless, the police chief had brought a real idea.

"We can clear away that depot for you," he shouted. "We'll do it while you're fighting the bankfire!"

"Go to it!" barked the fire chief. "Only you won't have more than half an hour! How're you going to manage

"Dynamite!" snapped back the police chief. "There's a carload of it back of the depot! Inspected it this

Harry Vincent pointed suddenly. The crowd was shifting; men were darting suddenly across the street. The

fire chief was turning toward the engines, which were spraying futile streams of water against the bank

building; the police chief had dashed away to summon men. Neither saw the stir that Harry indicated; but The

The identity of the running men was positive. They were crooks who belonged to Drune and Colgarth.

Dodging out of sight, they were on their way to block the police chief's plan. They would be the first to reach

the dynamite car. Their cunning chief had figured out a possible move like this.

"Cover the garage," he ordered "Watch for Colgarth and the Salamanders, with their swag. Use caution."

AS Harry leaped out and slammed the car's door, The Shadow swung the roadster roundabout. He whizzed

As The Shadow reached the corner, he heard a clanging of bells; he gave his car the gas; it shot forward,

straight across the path of Sheffield's hook and ladder truck. The front fender of the truck skimmed the rear

More shouts, as the hook and ladder swerved to a stop. The Shadow did not pause. He swung his car straight

Above the car roared a mass of flames; chunks of masonry crashed from burning walls. Running the gantlet

safely, The Shadow reached the far end of the old train shed, in back of the depot.

As he sprang from the roadster, The Shadow heard a terrific roar above. Glancing up, he saw the water tank

topple. It burst into immediate blaze; fire jetted to twice the previous height.

Still partly filled with gasoline, the tank had given the flames a tremendous impetus. As a breeze swept across

the burning bank building, the fire became a tidal wave. A broad, crackling sheet, it swept downward to

The flames had begun their spread. The fire chief's half an hour had become a scant five minutes. The police

The Shadow had reached the gleaming railroad tracks behind the depot. The fire showed three policemen

hurrying from the other side. Gunshots barked suddenly from freight cars on a siding. The police stopped,

The Shadow saw the dynamite box car. It was alone on a siding that led into the old depot; but it was fifty

yards away. The Shadow recognized the car by the activity about it. A shifting locomotive had chugged up to

They were crooks, who had boarded the shifter, to put it to quick use. Word that the police were seeking

Men were leaping back, waving their arms; others were aboard the box car, ready with guns should the police

approach. The wheels of the shifting locomotive were moving. The engine was ready for a swift trip from the

Abandoning all cover, The Shadow sprang forward, an automatic in his right fist. The crooks on the freight

car did not see him coming; they were looking in the direction of the scattered police squad. The first thug

who saw The Shadow was one who stood beside the moving box car. He chanced to spy the cloaked figure

THE thug whipped out a revolver; he started an outcry. He never used his weapon; nor did his shout

materialize. With a mammoth leap, The Shadow was upon him. A cloaked arm drove a downward blow. The

As the crook fell, another challenger leaped toward The Shadow; this second crook was quicker with his gun.

He snapped a backhand sideswing that clipped the crook behind the right ear. The thug slumped, his trigger

Leaping across ties and rails, The Shadow reached the front of the moving engine. The locomotive was

increasing its reverse speed; it jounced, twisted, as it clicked across switches. The Shadow grabbed the pilot

Back against the locomotive's boiler, The Shadow clattered along the runway and reached the open cab.

Without any attempt at stealth, he sprang into view, to be met by two men who had heard his sudden arrival.

One was the crook at the throttle. He snarled as he saw The Shadow. The thug was holding a revolver ready

in case policemen should try to board the train. He aimed quickly at the cloaked invader. This time The

Shadow fired. His own aim beat the crook's. The man sprawled to the floor of the cab. The Shadow whirled

This brawny rogue was armed with a big shovel that he had used to stoke the fire box of the switching

engine. The shovel was descending with a terrific, vicious stroke as The Shadow turned. The Shadow's left

A shot could not have stopped that swing: but The Shadow's jabbing arm accomplished the deed. Like a trip

The thug snarled as he grappled for The Shadow's gun. Dropping the automatic against the jouncing floor,

The struggle ended. The thug twisted upward, outward, lost his grasp, then pitched headlong to the track

beside the clattering locomotive. As the crook thudded on the ties, The Shadow snatched up the .45 before it

From the cab's window, The Shadow could see the flames that had caught the freight depot, on the side

nearest the bank. The fire was rising; once it reached the top of the structure all would be over. The wind

would sweep the flames into the business block. Brief minutes were all that remained.

Firemen and police had just realized the danger, for The Shadow could see tiny figures dashing toward the

Tenants would not know about the menace before the fire struck. The whole block seemed doomed to

RABID shouts came from the box car. Crooks upon it had supposed that their pals had stopped the

This sudden start, that promised a return to the siding into the freight depot was something they could not

understand. Shouts were closer. As the locomotive gathered speed, a crook appeared on the ladder steps of

He saw The Shadow at the window of the cab. The crook aimed; The Shadow fired first. The thug lost his

New shouts were raised. Revolvers tongued shots; automatics roared from within the cab. Battle had begun

amid this mad return. Shots were almost useless, for the thugs were flattened on the car, and The Shadow's

head was bobbing at the locomotive cab. To The Shadow, the fray was mere byplay, to keep the crooks

The real result would come when The Shadow completed the bold, swift course that he had undertaken.

Every increased gain of the clattering locomotive was to his liking, for it led to the new outcome.

The Shadow was driving the dynamite car ahead of him, squarely into the depths of the blazing depot!

CROOKS controlled the yards outside the old depot. Deployed over a wide area, they had driven back

Sheffield's few policemen. A dozen or more all men like Sloopy and Jing these thugs were gloating as

they watched the flames surge up to the top of the depot. Roof and train shed were both ablaze.

It was the loud rattle of the shifting locomotive that made those outspread thugs turn about. By the lurid glare

of the fire, they saw the dynamite car coming toward them, shoved by the fastmoving wheels of the little

The Shadow had yanked the throttle wide. The shifter was driving its onecar train forward at nearly a

The fire's vivid light showed the men who fired from atop the box car. Other crooks leaped into action. Some

vainly tried to throw switches before the dynamite car arrived. Others, guessing that a foeman had captured

As the dynamite car ran the last lap into the station, a figure swung outward from the cab. A black shape

struck the ground, staggered forward, rolled, then came to a halt. Rising, The Shadow was ready with his

No crooks offered fire. All were ducking to cover. Eyes were riveted by the sight ahead.

THE dynamite car had reached the blazing train shed. The shifting engine was hurling it onward. Crooks

were leaping from the car, all except one. He clung in terror, fearful of the drop at such high speed. That thug

Locomotive and car covered the length of the train shed in three seconds. Outlined by the fire above, the

dynamite car hit a wooden bumper at the end of the track. The bumper was too frail to stop the impetus. The

The next obstacle was a thick brick wall, the buttressed inner end of the old depot.

A sweep of fire had risen over the top of the depot, all along the roof and train shed. A cataract of flame, it

was ready to descend; to clear the roof and swallow the whole depot in its clutches. Once that surge struck,

the fire would roar onward, unrestricted. The moment of the fire's triumph had arrived.

Full speed, the dynamite car crashed the thick brick wall. It smashed the buttress; halted; then telescoped as

All happened in a quarter of a second; yet The Shadow, watching, could sense a distinct instant that formed

A TERRIFIC explosion made the fire's roar seem puny. The fire that thundered from the doomed box car was

Splitting to fragments, the steel car vanished. With it, the shifting engine was shattered, twisted, broken into

chunks of hot and jagged metal. The concussion carried instantaneously. The ground trembled as the terrific

blast hurled the whole depot into fragments. Walls, roof and train shed went scattering in every direction.

All portions were hoisted outward. The front of the depot hurtled to the street. The rear of the train shed was

blown into bits that scattered all over the tracks in the yard. The unburned side of the depot was rocketed

against the walls of the business block; chunks of superstructure clattered the roofs of the apartments.

The whole flaming side of the depot was lifted backward, as if swept aside by a giant hand. The tidal wave of

fire was carried with it, thrown against the breeze, back upon the flames that rose from the Sheffield National

The huge roar of the mammoth blast was answered by the echoes of clattering windows and shattering

There was a sight, however, that held eyes amazed. Space had replaced the old freight depot. Low fragments

of masonry, a flattened surface of settled debris were all that marked the spot where the structure had been.

Flames writhed, a mammoth, windswept torch above the bank building. Caught anew by the breeze, they

took their old direction. Gobbling downward, they reached to the site of the old depot, hungrily seeking fuel

The Shadow's blast had isolated the fire. Nothingness lay in its path. The flames could never reach the

business block, where startled apartment dwellers had awakened, to show their staring faces at every broken

One task accomplished, The Shadow had another. Darkness had blanketed the spot where he stood, for the

flames had suddenly exhausted after their last surge. They had almost totally consumed the bank building; its

Skirting wide through the freight yard, he circled hurriedly to reach the old garage beyond the Sheffield

National Bank. The Shadow knew that Colgarth and the Salamanders must have timed their underground

entry at the very outset of the fire, for they had expected a complete holocaust that would divert attention

PAST the bank building, The Shadow cut straight toward the garage. He had a hundred yards to go. Crooks

from the freight yards had taken a shorter course. The Shadow saw the coverup men scurrying to give the

alarm. He had no time to battle with those underlings. His task was to stop the Salamanders first.

Before The Shadow had covered thirty feet, the far door of the battered garage burst open. A truck rocketed

into view; it cut toward the main street. The range was too great for The Shadow to halt the big machine;

The Shadow saw a man spring out from beside a building and stab futile shots at the escaping truck. It was

Harry Vincent; he had thrown aside all thoughts of caution. He was due for trouble before The Shadow could

Two thugs jumped into sight. They were coverup men, the ones who had been nearest to the garage and,

therefore, the first to reach it. They grabbed Harry; The Shadow saw them drag him, struggling, off beyond

The Shadow dashed onward. His cloaked shape was outlined by the waning fire in the bank building. Crooks

spotted their deadly foe and opened fire. The Shadow gave them no regard. He intended to save Harry first.

An automobile flashed past an opening between two buildings. Thirty yards distant; it was gone before The

Shadow could aim to stop it. Covering crooks were making a speedy getaway. Harry was again a prisoner;

The Shadow twisted to a halt. He heard the whines of bullets dispatched by the crooks who had tried to

pepper him at long range. They had failed to find their swiftmoving target. They had opportunity for better

aim when The Shadow stopped his dash; but they gained no chance to press their new advantage.

Close to the subsiding bank fire, the crouched crooks were visible to a man. The Shadow had whipped out

both automatics. He jabbed quickspurted shots as he turned in turret fashion. Each gun pumped alternately.

Three thugs sprawled in quick succession, while their pals fired wildly toward The Shadow. Weaving, fading,

he was an impossible target in that brief fray. Surviving crooks dashed for cover.

He knew that they were heading for a car. The roadster had been crumpled by the explosion. The Shadow

ROUNDING a building beyond the abandoned garage, The Shadow overtook three crooks who were

boarding a touring car. Two men dove away and fled past a close corner when they saw The Shadow. The

other tried to start the car; at the same time, he peered wildly, gripping a revolver as he looked for his

The Shadow came in from the other side of the front seat. Dropping his automatics, he pitched upon the thug.

He caught the crook's throat with one hand, the fellow's gun wrist with the other.

The thug choked as his hand lost its hold upon the weapon. Snapping the man up from behind the wheel, The

Shadow chucked him headlong over the door beside the driver's seat. The rogue thudded against the paving

Colgarth and the Salamanders had driven north in their truck; underlings had taken the same direction in their

car, with Harry as their prisoner. Instead of following, The Shadow wheeled the captured touring car across

Again, The Shadow was beginning a swift ride. He was bound for the airport south of Sheffield. By this time,

HARRY VINCENT'S struggles had ceased as soon as he had been placed aboard the crookmanned

automobile. The thugs who had trapped him threw him into the back seat, into the arms of another waiting

Threats of slugging guns had quieted Harry. Discretion was preferable to useless fighting. So long as he

remained conscious, Harry would have double opportunity; to seek a chance for escape and to learn facts for

The crooks were snarling as they drove along. With harsh epithets, they promised tough times for Harry. The

Shadow's agent maintained his composure. He knew that these rogues would not harm him unless he made

The car scaled a hill. It rode between brick gate posts and pulled around in back of a sprawly mansion. In the

darkness, Harry glimpsed white pillars as they passed the front. He knew that this must be Colgarth's colonial

The crooks jabbed revolvers into Harry's back. They forced their prisoner from the car and marched him to

the rear door of the house. One thug rapped with the butt of a revolver. The door opened; an uglyfaced

HARRY saw Drune and Colgarth rising, startled, from a table in a large living room. The pair had been

sorting the securities taken in the bank raid. Colgarth emitted a harsh exclamation to his henchmen:

"Things went sour," growled a thug. "The Shadow blew up the freight station and stopped the fire."

"So that was the explosion that we heard!" ejaculated Colgarth. "We thought it was the gasoline in the water

"That burned first. Then The Shadow grabbed the dynamite car. After that, he clipped about half of the

Drune waved an interruption. His eyes gleaming, the master crook had spied Harry in the background. Drune

"They were quite wise to come here," said Drune, dryly. "Look, Colgarth; they have brought us an old

Colgarth craned his neck. He saw Harry. His hard lips showed a vicious grin. He snapped, "You frisked

Nods indicated that the henchmen had deprived Harry of his gun. Colgarth rasped an order:

Harry's captors departed. Colgarth drew a revolver and motioned Harry to a chair. The Shadow's agent seated

himself calmly. Drune and Colgarth buzzed in conference beside the table; all the while, Colgarth kept watch

on Harry. Nods proved that the crooked partners were reaching a quick agreement.

The pair arose. Drune gathered up the stacks of securities, while Colgarth waited. Then Colgarth covered

Harry and ordered him toward the door. Harry walked out into the hall, where the four thugs were waiting.

Colgarth buzzed orders to the leader of the fourman squad. The men hurried off in different directions.

Colgarth marched Harry to a kitchen. He opened a door and pointed to a cellar stairs.

As Harry descended, Drune turned on a light at the head of the stairs. At the bottom, Harry found himself in a

squarewalled room, empty except for boxes along the wall. While Colgarth kept Harry covered, Drune went

ahead and entered another section of the cellar. A light gleamed when Drune found the switch. Colgarth

Drune was waiting for them. With a polite bow, he pointed to a lone chair in the corner. It was an invitation

for Harry to be seated. Harry accepted, while Drune and Colgarth remained standing.

Drune's actions were more insidious because of the rogue's mock courtesy. Harry remembered the previous

fate to which the master crook had consigned him. He expected something equally as undesirable as the fiery

"We congratulate you, Mr. Vincent," crackled Drune, with smiling lips. "Your escape from death was quite

miraculous. We assume, of course, that your chief, The Shadow, was responsible for your rescue. I presume

"We have learned that The Shadow spoiled our plans for the complete destruction of Sheffield. That,

however, does not cause us concern. Our one purpose was to divert attention while Colgarth and the

"Even the subterranean blast, by which they shattered the foundation, remained unheard during the roar of the

fire. It was an expert job. Colgarth completed in less than the estimated time. We have gained the final spoils

DRUNE'S smirk showed satisfaction with the past. His eyes glared suddenly as he began to speak of the

"We hold the wealth we want," declared Drone, "but we must protect it. Since The Shadow lives, we shall be

forced to evade him. Doubtlessly, you have told him why we delivered death to Woldorf and Breel; also why

we raided the Sheffield National Bank to gain the holdings of the Cruikshank estate? The Shadow has us at a

"To do that, Colgarth and I shall disappear. We possess sufficient funds to wage a relentless campaign against

The Shadow. We shall fight from every hiding place. Only The Shadow will know our identities; and no one

will believe him if he declares that Huxley Drune and Gordon Colgarth are criminals.

"For the world will class us as unfortunates. As unhappy victims, like Chester Woldorf and Lincoln Breel.

Colgarth, as owner of this mansion; I, as his guest, shall presumably perish. For you, Vincent, I decree the

In a trice, the whole cunning scheme flashed itself through Harry's brain. He knew why Drune and Colgarth

had buzzed in conference; why whispered orders had been given to thugs. The underlings had been told to act

Other fires had been attributed to incendiaries. The same would be the case here. By this time, the authorities

in Sheffield had guessed that the bank fire was intentional. When Colgarth's home broke out in flames,

No one would ever suspect Colgarth of having any connection with crime. Nor would Drune, a chance guest

As an answer to Harry's thoughts, a crackling noise came from above. It was the sound of fire, heard from the

kitchen stairway. Crooks had started blazes throughout the mansion. By this time they were taking to their

The situation matched the one in Riverport. It was like the fire at Breel's. Any person held here would be

trapped. There was to be one victim in this new conflagration. Harry was to be the man.

A wild impulse seized Harry. He tightened, ready to spring upon Colgarth, on a chance that he could down

the rogue and then battle Drune. If Harry died by gunfire, it would be better than the flames. In another

DRUNE had shrilled a crackly order. A door swung open in the far wall. Two by two, a squad of men were

entering. Six in all, they were garbed in puffy suits of asbestos, with grimy faces glaring through the fronts of

They were the Salamanders. They had been given word. They had come from a passage, to take charge of

Harry and hold him here while Drune and Colgarth preceded them through a tunnel that led to safety.

Harry saw formidable, gunlike tubes, projecting from clumsy, thickgloved fists. They were the fire guns

that The Shadow had encountered. Though Harry had never seen them in use, he recognized that they were

Drune and Colgarth withdrew from the space between Harry and the Salamanders. They stood close to the

door of the tunnel. A terrific roaring was apparent. By this time, the mansion must be entirely in flames. Soon

the flooring would collapse; blazing beams would drop. Then the Salamanders would depart, leaving Harry to

Drune's chuckle sounded amid the fire's roar. Colgarth held his hardlipped leer. They were waiting, that

pair, to enjoy Harry's plight. They were secure, here in the cellar of the flaming house.

Master rogues believed that they occupied a spot where even The Shadow could not reach them!

Viewed from the ground below the hillside, the fire produced the same torchlike effect as the flames at the

Incendiaries had done a thorough job. They had spattered kerosene all about the house. The men had started

As the fire roared away, a carload of crooks were looking back with glee. Billows of smoke were reflecting

The fleeing men took a side road to avoid persons coming to the hill. They knew that the fire must have been

seen in Sheffield. A distant clanging, dimly heard in the night air, told that fire equipment was coming toward

the burning mansion. Flames had practically ended at the Sheffield National Bank. Engines were no longer

Colgarth's house was isolated. No witnesses were present to eye the early stages of the fire at close range.

Long wings that ran from the main portion of the house were being rapidly consumed; for they were all of

The center of the house still stood; but the fire raged most furiously in that portion. Only the fact that the

The ground floor was solid, well constructed, directly above the portion of the cellar where Drune and

Colgarth held Harry prisoner. The flames had risen upward, consuming the upper stories with rapidity.

The woodenshingled roof was dropping into the interior of the mansion; but it was too light to complete the

devastation. The ground floor would not sag until the walls came inward. They were due to crumble when the

Once the mansion became a shell, complete disaster would follow rapidly. That time would be soon. The

Roads to the hill were roundabout. They handicapped all who sought speed on the ground. There was another

A THRUMMING was audible, off above the town of Sheffield. The drone was becoming louder, significant

of rapid approach. It neared the lighted zone above the burning house. Flames, enlarging, hurling their bright

An autogiro was outlined in the sky above the mansion. It was The Shadow's ship, arriving from the airport,

its master at the controls. The autogiro seemed to poise, motionless in the air, except for the whizz of the

Slowly, the autogiro descended straight downward. It was temporarily obscured by smoke that had risen

The Shadow had divined Drune's plan. He knew that both Drune and Colgarth would want the world to think

that they had died within their fire. There was a chance that they might still be close at hand.

There was a greater chance that Harry had been left to perish in the flames. That, more than thought of the

Witnesses, had there been any to view the scene, would have thought the pilot of the autogiro mad.

Smoke, twisted by the wind, uncoiled to show the autogiro hovering directly above the flaming house. Less

than a hundred feet intervened between the dropping ship and the high tongues of the devastating flames.

Rounded objects were dangling below the ship's wheels. One loosened; like a bomb, it descended toward the

flames. At fifty feet, the bomb exploded with a silent puff. A volume of powdery substance rained upon the

flames. The effect was instant. Blazing tongues succumbed; when they reappeared, their extent had

The Shadow released a second bomb. Again, the powder burst and scattered, this time at a closer range.

Flames withered. Only a few licks of fire lashed in a final effort. From forty feet above the roofless mansion,

The bomb puffed within the house itself. Powder blanketed every remaining vestige of the fire. Smothered

flames were gone. Brick walls stayed upright; The Shadow had arrived in time to prevent their fall.

FROM Texas, The Shadow had ordered these bombs of dust powder the latest and best devices invented

for fighting the merciless oilwell fires. He had foreseen battles with Drune and Colgarth, wherein fire would

The shipment had come promptly; but The Shadow had been forced to let it wait in Newark while he located

the scene of coming crime. Fire had struck in Sheffield while Crofton was still flying out from Newark.

But the autogiro had reached the airport soon afterward. It had been waiting for The Shadow, its bombs all

With smothering dust, The Shadow had conquered the new fire, the last thrust in the schemes of Drune and

Colgarth. Attacking from the air, he had found the center of the flames. To insure success, he had dropped the

There was no chance for the autogiro to soar upward. Dust had banished heated air, to create a vacuum within

the house walls. The space sucked fresh air downward, through the open roof. The autogiro was caught in the

Like the pull of a magnet, the air itself drew the ship to its descent. Blades spun madly, bending as they

resisted the pull. Despite them, the autogiro dropped within the flamescarred walls of the ruined mansion.

The Shadow had expected this descent; he had known that he could not prevent it. He was working only to

avert a total crash. He managed that task well. Air had settled like a cushion within the walls.

The space was ample; the way was clear, for the upper stories had completely fallen. The ground floor had

not yet weakened; its only fault was its irregularity, for it was heaped with masses of debris.

The autogiro quivered through the last twenty feet of the descent. It struck at an angle; one wheel bounced

upon a smoldering beam. For a moment, the ship was toppling; as it rolled forward, it righted. Braking it, The

WITH a command for Crofton to remain with the ship, The Shadow leaped to the baked house floor. Dust

was everywhere; only a few patches of smoking wood remained. There was light from the burning wings of

the house. By the fading glare, The Shadow saw the remains of doorways. At one spot, he saw a vacancy in

Hurrying there, The Shadow spied a flight of steps; below, he saw the glimmer of a light. The top steps were

burned. The Shadow cleared them with a leap. Stopping short, he saw a squarewalled room, that was

The wiring for that first chamber came from upstairs; and the fire had obliterated it. The Shadow could

The Shadow heard the buzz of voices. He had reached his goal. Drawing a brace of automatics, he crept

forward. Nearing the door in darkness, he saw shapes in the other room. He recognized the baggy figures of

the Salamanders. Formed in a semicircle, they were holding their fire guns to cover a corner that The Shadow

A crackly voice sounded. The ranks of the Salamanders opened. From between the grotesque creatures

stepped a grayhaired man whose withered face glared its malicious triumph. He, too, was looking toward

Edging across to the other side of the door, The Shadow saw Harry Vincent, facing the evil gaze of Huxley

The master crook had stopped. Easing back, The Shadow covered Drune. He waited, unseen; for the

The time for departure had arrived. Drune had stepped forward to crackle the words that would sound his

"THE fire has lessened," snarled Drune to Harry. "The walls have not fallen as we had hoped. That last crash

Drune was referring to the thump of the autogiro. He had heard it on the floor above. He had mistaken it for

"Nevertheless," sneered Drune, "fire shall be your mode of death. My decree stands. Blackened to a crisp,

Backing, Drune motioned to the Salamanders. The asbestosclad henchmen raised their fire guns. They

opened ranks, that Drune might pass. Once he was behind them, they would be ready for the order to blast

The Shadow started forward. He wanted the Salamanders to see him when he attacked. They would

remember that fight at Breel's. His presence would confuse them, better than shots from the dark. An instant

The shout came from Colgarth. Standing beyond the Salamanders, Colgarth was holding a wellpadded

briefcase beneath his arm. It was the precious bag that contained the stolen securities.

Colgarth, looking through the space between the Salamanders, had chanced to glance toward the outer door.

The Salamanders turned. They swung their heavy fire guns. Six in number, they sought to use their ungainly

weapons before The Shadow could down them with his automatics. The Shadow opened fire as the

THE SHADOW'S shots were speedy. The nearest Salamanders fell, like toppling puppet figures. Slugs

scarcely staggered them, because of their heavy garb; but each one tumbled as his punctured suit lost its air.

A suit withered, shriveled. Air hissed from the interior. Overloaded by a heavy helmet, each stricken

The Shadow bagged three Salamanders in a row. Two made clumsy leaps for the farther doorway. One of the

six, however, held his ground. His thumb was on the trigger of the fire gun. He had his chance to drive a blast

It was Harry Vincent who stopped the Salamander's stroke. Unbound, Harry had seized his chair from the

corner. He was driving forward as the Salamander thumbed the lever. Harry swung the chair downward, with

It was the force of the blow, not the result, that staggered the Salamander. His helmet was sufficient

protection to save his skull. Harry's stroke, however, was terrific. It shattered the chair and sent the

The fire gun puffed; a blast of flame seared forth. The Salamander's aim was altered. The scorching fire

As the Salamander rallied, The Shadow fired again. The Salamander's baggy suit deflated. His clumsy thumb

slipped from the lever. The weapon clattered from his fists and struck the floor.

Drune was diving through the far door, barking to Colgarth to follow. Colgarth obeyed; the last two

Salamanders joined the flight. They knew that the range was long for their fire guns. With their leaders in

The Shadow delivered one quick, stabbing shot, directly between the Salamanders. He had aimed for the

darting form of Colgarth, who was a few steps nearer than Drune. A cry told that The Shadow had clipped the

Harry was leaping forward. The Shadow thrust forth an arm to hold him back. One chance blast from a fire

gun would have spelled Harry's finish. The Salamanders must be met at long range.

By his action, The Shadow had saved his agent from a false move; but the Salamanders profited. They were

The Shadow sprang forward, knowing well that crooks had fled for safety. At the door, he halted, to rip quick

shots along a gloomy passage. Those shots would spur the flight of the Salamanders. The Shadow paused for

THE SHADOW saw a low, lighted tunnel, leading down through the slope. It was a route that offered outlet

somewhere down the hillside. The passage turned, a hundred feet away. Drune was at the bend. He stood

Drune was ready to inject a current that would dynamite the tunnel. It was a piece of evidence, that passage,

that crooks did not want the law to find. Drune was waiting for the Salamanders. In clumsy flight, they were

Colgarth had stumbled when the Salamanders passed him. He was closest to The Shadow; less than thirty feet

into the tunnel. He had lost the briefcase in his fall; he was groping for it as he rose. The Shadow dashed

Colgarth's right arm was dangling. He did not have a gun. Instead of offering fight, he turned and scurried

after the Salamanders, who had formed a twoman file, still dashing clumsily, handicapped in their asbestos

Drune saw The Shadow gain the briefcase from the floor where Colgarth had dropped it. With a savage snarl

In this moment, Drune cared nothing for Colgarth and the Salamanders. Nor did he care about the rescue of

Within the dangerous sector of the tunnel, The Shadow chose the quickest course. He had emptied one

automatic; he had three shots remaining in the other. Aiming the .45, he pumped three rounds above the

shoulders of the Salamanders. Every bullet found its lodgement in the stooped form of Huxley Drune.

Reeling, clawing blindly at the wall, the chief of crime still sought to pull the switch. Though mortally

wounded, he held to life, seeking by one evil effort to doom The Shadow with him. There was no time to

Gripping the briefcase, The Shadow made long strides back along the passage. As he reached the cellar, he

flung the briefcase ahead of him; with a dive, The Shadow rolled out into the room where Harry stood.

The Salamanders, like The Shadow, had thirty feet to go, in order to reach the other end. They had covered

less than twenty. Colgarth, faltering, had failed to overtake them. Drune, clawing blindly, collapsed against

As he sagged in a death throe, Drune found the switch and pulled it with him. His gasped cackle sounded

WITH a muffled roar, the walls and ceiling of the tunnel broke inward. Mined for its entire length, the

passage collapsed with a single blast. The Shadow caught one fleeting glimpse of Drune, sprawling headlong.

There were shrieks as the stony walls obliterated the view of the men. Lights were gone; not only in the

tunnel, but in the cellar room as well. Pungent fumes stenched from the tunnel. Groping away, The Shadow

clicked a flashlight and opened the path for himself and Harry to reach the stairs.

Huxley Drune, master of crime, had failed in his final effort. Clutched by death, he had done his best to finish

The Shadow. All that he had accomplished was the doom of his partner, Gordon Colgarth.

The Shadow had triumphed over fiends who fought by fire. He had conquered murderers and their

welltrained henchmen who could dare the wrath of devastating flames. Through smothering their own

The Shadow had forced the final battle. The menace of the Salamanders was ended.

WHEN The Shadow and Harry Vincent reached the floor above, they saw the autogiro against a dimly

flickering background. The burning wings of the house were almost entirely consumed. Spurts of flame were

Harry saw Miles Crofton by the autogiro. He heard his fellow agent report. Crofton had cleared a path across

the ground floor. It was a rough one; but the distance was great. It offered the ship a fiftyfoot path to the

The Shadow and his agents boarded the autogiro. Crofton had rolled the ship a dozen feet back from the

nearer wall. The Shadow started the motor; he waited while the propeller and blades gained top speed.

Outside, shouts told that people had arrived from Sheffield. A loud clanging marked the progress of fire

engines up the hill. Soon the burned mansion would be entered. The Shadow did not care to remain.

BRAKING one wheel, he started the autogiro forward. It spun about because of the unequal pressure. It

gathered speed by the turn, swung clear about, the ship rolling toward the wall at the other end of the house.

Ordinarily, the autogiro would have risen rapidly. Surrounding walls impeded its lift. For a moment, Harry

feared that the ship would crash the wall ahead. The air within the pitlike building was too restricted for the

Suddenly, the autogiro jolted upward. Its horizontal blades had cleared the level of the roofless walls. The

blades had clutched the outer air. They hoisted the ship's wheels over the blackened surface of the threatening

Astonished burghers from Sheffield stood gazing at the sight. Brief flames from the wings of Colgarth's

house gave them a view of the mysterious ship. They were totally amazed, unready to believe their senses.

To them, the autogiro might have been a phoenix that fabulous bird that ancients claimed could rise from

its own ashes, to soar away to a new existence. They gaped as the ship vanished suddenly into the night.

Staring vainly, they heard its motor hum off into the distance. The clanging fire engines arrived, to rouse the

few witnesses from their stupor. They began their tale, to listeners who scoffed their disbelief.

Firemen entered to search the ruins. They found the open path to the cellar. Descending, they made a

discovery that proved as amazing as the story of the autogiro. They found the bodies of the four dead

The fallen tunnel did not gain the attention of searchers. Its wreckage had been complete. The tunnel's mouth

looked like a side room of the cellar, where debris had fallen. The foundations had failed to withstand the

The autogiro was forgotten in the surprise at the discovery of the Salamanders. There would be no new facts

uncovered regarding the ship's presence in the vicinity of Sheffield. Crofton had landed at a deserted airport

which had long been no better than an emergency landing field. No witnesses had seen the autogiro prior to

Only The Shadow and his trusted agents knew the full story of the conquest. Flying the darkened autogiro

back toward Newark, The Shadow was silent at the controls. On the floor beside him lay the briefcase that he

Later, he would examine its contents. The heirs of Woldorf and Breel; the administrators of the Cruikshank

The Shadow's agents heard a grim laugh from their chief. The tone was the summary of the episodes that The

Shadow had undergone. He had striven for final conflict with the Salamanders. He had gained. Monstrous

The Shadow's laugh was an aftermath of talk that had once passed between Huxley Drune and Gordon

The supercrooks had talked of three elements earth, water and fire. They had agreed that The Shadow could

have survived the first two on the list. They had applied the third. Fire had failed to doom The Shadow.

Yet the crooks had still believed that fire could protect them. They had forgotten another element: air.

From the air had The Shadow come to gain his victory. To the air had he returned. THE END