THE WASP ..........................................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. THE WASP'S NEST.........................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. STRANGE FOEMEN ......................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. CROSSED CRIME .........................................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. CRIME RETRACED...................................................................................................12

CHAPTER V. THE CLOSED TRAIL..................................................................................................16

CHAPTER VI. THE WASP'S TOKEN .................................................................................................19

CHAPTER VII. CRIME MOVES AFIELD ..........................................................................................23

CHAPTER VIII. STEPS AGAINST CRIME ........................................................................................27

CHAPTER IX. FIGURES FROM THE DARK ....................................................................................31

CHAPTER X. THE LAW'S MISTAKE ................................................................................................35

CHAPTER XI. GLENN'S ADVICE.....................................................................................................38

CHAPTER XII. IN NEW YORK..........................................................................................................42

CHAPTER XIII. THE WAY OF THE WASP......................................................................................45

CHAPTER XIV. CROSSED SCHEMES ..............................................................................................48

CHAPTER XV. DOUBLE CAPTURE.................................................................................................51

CHAPTER XVI. CRIME'S TERMS.....................................................................................................55

CHAPTER XVII. THE WEB INFOLDS..............................................................................................59

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SHADOW MOVES.......................................................................................62

CHAPTER XIX. CRIME RIDES WIDE ...............................................................................................65

CHAPTER XX. THE WASP'S THREAT .............................................................................................68

CHAPTER XXI. WITHIN THE LAIR.................................................................................................71

CHAPTER XXII. FLIGHT OF THE WASP .........................................................................................74

CRIME was rampant in Manhattan. The fact was evident everywhere. George Ambril noted the symptoms as

he rode in the subway, where he watched passengers reading newspaper headlines over each other's

shoulders. The same was true when he took a taxicab from the subway to his apartment house.

Every traffic cop along the line gave the cab a thorough scrutiny, as though expecting to find it filled with

thuggish men armed with machine guns. The cabby, in his turn, was wary. He looked nervously at every car

The cops became apologetic when they saw George Ambril. He was a sleek, wellgroomed young man, with

a thin mustache and a bland smile; certainly not the sort who would defy the law. As for the cabby, he was

worried because he had such an elegant passenger. He felt it his duty to protect such a rider, and he pictured

When jitters gripped traffic officers and cab drivers in broad daylight, it was quite obvious that the present

crime wave had reached an unprecedented height. Anything might happen, anywhere, at any time, and the

The bland young man had a very good reason to preserve his pose of unconcern. He happened to know a

great deal about the crimes that had so far baffled the law. He knew the stories in back of the newspaper

There weren't any mobbies with machine guns; no bigshots who snarled orders at ugly hordes. Such stuff

belonged in the days of prohibition. Crime had gone streamlined, although the police did not know it. The

men who were doing the dirty work were smartlooking chaps like George Ambril, and their leader dealt in

There was money in crime. The Wasp had proven it; not for himself alone, but for all who served him.

George Ambril could testify to that fact, for he had made his share by serving his hidden master.

As the cab swung from the avenue and pulled up in front of a pretentious apartment house, Ambril gave a

Ambril wasn't even a New Yorker, nor were any of the others who served the Wasp. That was why their chief

was clever. He imported his workers, like Ambril, and showed them opportunities of which they made the

most. They were a bold lot, who could pull anything from stickups to murder, in firstclass style.

The Wasp told them how; they did the rest. For weeks, the police had been rounding up racketeers and

hoodlums and overlooking gentlemanly strangers of Ambril's ilk. By the time a worker had done his quota of

crooked jobs, the Wasp sent him out of New York. For the Wasp was too smart to miss a trick.

Like a giant octopus, he had Manhattan in his clutch and was extending his long tentacles to the distant towns

where his workers came from, showing those communities what crime could be when done in expert style.

As the cab halted in front of the apartment house, Ambril regretfully tossed aside a newspaper. He would

have liked to clip a frontpage story from that sheet; one that told of a recent bank robbery, where masked

Ambril had been one of the bank robbers. The police were still looking for the mob around the Bowery and

Entering his apartment, Ambril scanned the place with approval. It wasn't the sort of hideaway where police

would expect to find a member of the bank mob. In fact, it wasn't a hideaway at all.

Ambril had been living here for six months, finishing out a lease. He expected to stay another month, because

he was doing well as a cigar salesman, handling a highpriced brand which he placed at exclusive clubs and

There was a letter from the cigar company under the door. Ambril opened it, and frowned. It contained news

that the usual salesman would have liked. Ambril had been given a new territory, operating out of Cincinnati.

But he hadn't expected the appointment quite so soon. Still frowning, he wondered if the Wasp had heard

Very probably. The Wasp heard about everything, usually before it happened. Nervously, Ambril yanked

open a desk drawer and began to thumb through stacks of bills. He'd wanted another month to pay these up. It

wouldn't do to leave town with a lot of debts. Then, as Ambril's forehead relieved itself of wrinkles; his lips

Reaching for the telephone, he dialed a number. He gave his name when someone answered, and inquired if

Mr. Warrendon had returned to New York. Learning that Mr. Warrendon would be back this evening, Ambril

THE man who entered was of lighter build than Ambril, and younger in appearance. His manner was suave,

though a trifle forced. He introduced himself, rather formally, as Jack Prenter, and Ambril nodded when he

As the two faced each other, they looked very much alike; if they had been actors, Prenter could have served

"Have a drink, Prenter," suggested Ambril, as he opened a closet that contained a variety of bottles. "We're

Ambril paused, as Prenter glanced nervously toward the door. Then, in the same tone, he continued:

"Don't worry, Prenter. I always keep my voice low enough so that it won't be heard in the hall. I was phoning

"I'm going out of town," he said. "To Cleveland, to work in a branch office of the advertising agency. I heard

that you were going to Cincinnati, so I thought maybe we could travel along together."

"I get it," returned Ambril, smoothly. "You've heard from the Wasp. We're to do some road work on the

"At a town called Richmont," nodded Prenter. "I'll show you where the place is" he pulled a road map from

Ambril whistled softly. He hadn't told anyone that he had bought a new car. How word had reached the Wasp

so soon was a real mystery to Ambril, as well as new proof that the Wasp knew everything. While Prenter

was spreading the road map on the table, Ambril shoved the stack of bills in the drawer.

He was wondering if the Wasp had learned how far he had overdrawn his account. Such things didn't go well

"We can start tonight," Prenter was saying, "and stop over in New Jersey. Of course, if you want me to take

"Who said I'd want you to go ahead?" interrupted Ambril. "For that matter, what if I don't want to go at all?"

"It's all provided for," returned Prenter, smoothly. "I can wait until tomorrow noon. If you don't show up,

The words dropped from Ambril's lips like the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. Doubt as to

where he would be tomorrow meant further doubt regarding Ambril's entire future. He wondered if the Wasp

had crossed him off the list and was breaking the news gently, through Prenter. Ambril didn't want to be

When names were crossed from the Wasp's list, their owners were usually rubbed out. Ambril knew. He had

"I'll... I'll probably meet you tomorrow, Prenter," began Ambril, nervously. "I've a social matter to attend to

before I go. I have to see a chap named Herbert Warrendon. He's a wealthy man, Warrendon, the sort of

contact that the Wasp likes us to make. I wouldn't want to leave town without seeing him."

Prenter gave a halfdoubtful nod. Watching him carefully, Ambril was trying to analyze the fellow's actual

thoughts, when another knock came from the door. Ambril hesitated; then answered it. A telegraph

"Probably from Warrendon," remarked Ambril, after he closed the door. "I phoned him awhile ago "

The telegram had come from the envelope as Ambril tugged it. His eyes toward the yellow paper, Ambril was

riveted by what he saw. Instead of a usual telegram, the paper was plain yellow. In large typed letters, it bore

The message had no signature. Attached to it was a filmy thing that fluttered loose as Ambril eyed it. He

Stuffing the message in his pocket, Ambril walked from the apartment, with Prenter following him. When

they reached the street, Ambril beckoned stiffly to a cab; then, turning to Prenter, he said jerkily:

"Here's the check for my car. You'd better take it from the garage. I may meet you tomorrow, Prenter."

"I hope so," replied Prenter, suavely. "Good luck, Ambril, wherever you're going!"

THOSE parting words were an encouragement to George Ambril, as he rode to the Hotel Trentine. He felt

The message that Ambril had received was a summons to meet the Wasp in person, a privilege that came to

few. Until he received the fake telegram, Ambril had never even guessed where the Wasp's lair was.

Probably Prenter didn't know, but would like to learn. To Ambril, it meant that the Wasp still considered him

as useful, and would give him a chance to redeem himself for violating the strict rule of keeping within his

budget. Nevertheless, he was shaky when he alighted from the cab at the Hotel Trentine.

Oldfashioned, conservative, the Trentine impressed most visitors as a place of calm. Not so with George

From the moment that he entered the lobby, he felt himself under the surveillance of watchful clerks and

bellboys. Riding to the eighth floor, Ambril noticed that the elevator operator was burly, powerful enough to

Along the eighth floor were doorways lining the corridor that led to Suite 810. Behind any of those doors

might be watchers, ready to close in upon the hapless man who was answering the summons of the Wasp.

At the door of 810, Ambril hesitated; then realized that the mere act might produce suspicion. Summoning

Automatically, the door swung inward. As Ambril stepped into a sumptuous living room, the portal closed

behind him. Ahead was another door; he approached it, his footsteps hesitant. The door opened as he neared

it; mechanically, Ambril continued through, to a smaller room, that ended in a curtained alcove.

There were no lights in the room. Only the gloom of dusk pervaded it; an ominous glow, like the fading of

human hope. Halfway across the room, Ambril halted, fascinated by a stir of the darkpurple curtains.

He was in the lair of the Wasp, that fearful abode where few but the owner had ever entered.

What happened to those who came here was a mystery. The thought was fearful, even to George Ambril, who

Then, as the very silence of the lair drove him almost to the point of frenzy, Ambril saw the curtains part.

From between them stepped the strangest human creature that the visitor had ever beheld.

PERHAPS the dusk, coupled with Ambril's feardistorted vision, made the Wasp appear more grotesque than

he actually was. One thing was certain: as Ambril stared, he understood why the Wasp had chosen his strange

Crime's overlord was a human wasp. His body was long, thin at the waist. His legs were long, like an insect's;

For all that Ambril knew, those bent shoulders might have hidden a pair of transparent wings, completing the

As for a head, the Wasp had a large one that actually dwarfed his long, lean frame. His vision blurred at first,

Ambril saw this monster only as a wasp; then, as the Wasp approached, he discerned a face which was

Distorted into a grimace that seemed permanent, the Wasp's features wore a livid gloat that impressed Ambril

with their evil menace. The expression told why the Wasp had dealt unmercifully with those whom he chose

to class as prey or enemies. The contortion of the face made it coarse and ugly a shock, even to the visitor

When he spoke, the Wasp's tone sounded like a drone, a basso rumble that might well have been an insect's

buzz magnified a thousandfold. Yet every word drilled home to Ambril, particularly as the tone carried

"You knew my rules," droned the Wasp. "All who serve me must be ready for whatever duty I command.

They cannot afford to jeopardize the positions which they occupy in the eyes of the world. By placing your

self in debt, you are not ready for the service which I have arranged. What excuse have you to offer?"

It was several seconds before Ambril could find his voice. In those seconds, he did some quick thinking. He

The terse reply won the Wasp's approval. His rolling drone turned to a lowbuzzed laugh. Advancing, he

clamped a hand upon Ambril's shoulder. At the touch, the bland man shrank away, stifling an involuntary

Perhaps the Wasp was using some electric gadget to produce the sensation; possibly it was a product of

Ambril's own imagination. One thing was certain: Ambril was impressed. He shrank from the sting, and the

Purposely, the Wasp had turned his back toward the window, which was shaded with a slatted Venetian

blind. Marred by the blind, the sunset produced an eerie twilight which made the Wasp's leering face appear

Straining to make out those distorted features, Ambril realized that his own countenance, turned toward the

"Might I inquire" the Wasp's tone had a probing buzz "just how you intended to pay your present debts?"

"I was going to borrow some cash," admitted Ambril. "This evening... from a friend "

He halted, without naming the friend. The Wasp supplied the name in a sharp tone:

Ambril nodded, more nonplused than ever. There was no use trying to hide anything from the Wasp.

Apparently, the criminal overlord kept tabs on all who served him. It might be that he had heard from Prenter,

Still, Ambril felt relieved. He had told the Wasp the truth. He hoped that it would count for something, for

Ambril had a sinking feeling that he and the Wasp were not alone in the gloom of this room. It seemed that

watchers were close, prying from nooks and alcoves, ready to snatch Ambril as a victim should the Wasp

Evidently, truth did count with the Wasp; not as a matter of principle, but merely as a gauge to determine the

THE bigheaded man sidled away, to stop, his thin body crouched, while he rubbed his hands together in an

"Herbert Warrendon!" The Wasp pronounced the name with a sneer. "Why borrow money from a man so

wealthy? Since you know him well, Ambril, you can follow a better course. Visit Warrendon this evening,

"Instead" the Wasp whisked his hand into the dim glow, displaying a bright object at his fingertips "take

this! It is a duplicate key to Warrendon's wall safe, behind the hunting picture in his den.

"There, you will find a sealed envelope marked 'Options.' Take the envelope, but nothing else. Go to dinner

with Warrendon, and after you leave him, bring the envelope here. Wait!" The Wasp raised a pointing finger,

He laid his hand upon Ambril's shoulder. This time, the Wasp's touch carried no sting. Piloting his visitor

through the outer room, the Wasp stopped at the outside door and buzzed his final words close to Ambril's

"If you get the envelope," spoke the Wasp, "pause to light a cigarette when you leave the house with

Warrendon. It will be a signal to others. They will enter later, break open the wall safe and rifle it. Do you

Ambril understood. He was still nodding when the door dosed behind him. The robbery, happening while he

was with Warrendon, would be a perfect alibi for Ambril. But the Wasp was not willing to trust the precious

Tonight meant promotion for George Ambril. He probably would not have to join Jack Prenter tomorrow.

Ambril had met the Wasp; that was enough to place him in the select circle. Henceforth, he would rate as one

of the crime master's lieutenants. He would be among the chosen few who received orders directly from their

Ambril was smiling congratulations to himself when he reached the street. He might have lost his smile, had

In the thick gloom of the inner room, the Wasp was making a telephone call. His eyes had a catlike gleam

"Hello." The Wasp's buzzing tone was modified. "Is this Miss Velma Corl?" Then there was a moment's

pause; the eyes shone brighter and the tone sharpened. "I am sending Ambril to Warrendon's, as planned...

Yes, Velma, you can post the others. And remember, they are to watch for any false moves on Ambril's part...

In speaking to Ambril and Velma, the Wasp had not mentioned the nature of the options that he wanted from

Warrendon's. That was a matter that the Wasp considered his own concern; but there were other men who

THOSE others were a group seated at a table in the grillroom of the exclusive Cobalt Club. They were the

directors of Consolidation Metals, a corporation on the verge of bankruptcy, a fact that they were not

"If Herbert Warrendon has those options," spoke one, "we can pull through. Provided, of course, that he will

sell them. I talked to Basil Gannaford today. He says that he can refinance our corporation if we can show

"Warrendon will sell," put in another. "He'll want a real profit, of course, because that's his business. He

specializes in quick buys. They say he never has less than fifty thousand dollars on hand at his home."

The voices carried to a corner table, where two men were dining. One was New York's police commissioner,

Ralph Weston, whose squarish face wore a shortclipped mustache. The other was the commissioner's friend,

Lamont Cranston; his features were hawklike, so calm that they resembled a mask.

Mention of fifty thousand dollars brought a brisk gesture from Weston. The commissioner nudged his friend

across the table, but the result was merely a leisurely response on Cranston's part.

"Hear that, Cranston?" undertoned Weston. "Such gossip is the sort that criminals overhear, to their

Cranston's expression became quizzical. Evidently he hadn't caught the conversation from the other table.

"They're talking about Herbert Warrendon," continued the commissioner. "They say he keeps fifty thousand

"More than that, generally," responded Cranston, in a bored tone. "Fifty thousand dollars is small change for

"Of course." Cranston gave a slow glance at his watch. "I was thinking about dropping in on him later. I

"If I could talk to men like Warrendon," he said, "it would help our battle against crime. Warrendon and his

sort are natural targets for criminals. Rumors of easy money have been responsible for recent crimes. This

Cranston interrupted the commissioner's harangue with an appropriate suggestion.

"I'll drop in on Warrendon," he proposed. "I can tell him that I expect a friend in half an hour. You will be the

friend, and when I introduce you to Warrendon, you can express your opinions, commissioner."

Weston accepted the offer eagerly. He urged Cranston to start at once. As the leisurely man strolled from the

grillroom, the commissioner could hardly curb his impatience. He had reached the point where he actually

So had Lamont Cranston. He knew how far talk of wealth could carry in New York. Like Weston, he was

looking for the perpetrators of the huge crime wave that had swept Manhattan; but in a different way.

Outside the Cobalt Club, he stepped into a waiting limousine. Calmtoned, he gave the chauffeur an address

near Warrendon's house. The chauffeur did not notice that a taxicab followed as soon as they set out. Nor did

he observe Cranston in the rear of the limousine. The chauffeur was paid to keep his eyes ahead.

Cranston's leisurely pose was gone. With smooth speed, the hawkfaced passenger was sliding a secret

drawer from beneath the rear seat. From the drawer he extracted a black cloak, a slouch hat, thin gloves, and

Soon, Cranston was blotted from sight. The cloak was over his shoulders, the hat on his head. The automatics

were stowed in special holsters; he was drawing on the gloves. His new garb practically rendered him

Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow, master of darkness. Forth on a chance trail, The Shadow would

Tonight's events might lead to a further crossing of their paths; to a time when they would come face to face

IN his most dapper style, George Ambril stepped from a cab and approached the front door of Herbert

Warrendon's pretentious brownstone home. Ringing the bell, he glanced about and smiled into the darkness,

They were there, those friends. They were watching from cars parked along the street. The cars that they had

brought were old ones; the sort that thugs would use. The occupants, too, were roughly dressed, but their

One man noted the discrepancy and reminded the others of it, soon after Ambril had entered Warrendon's

"We're supposed to be hoodlums, for the benefit of Warrendon's servants," the spokesman said. "Remember:

"Hey, guy!" interrupted a voice in back. "If we're going to act tough, why don't you talk that way?"

"You can depend on me," chuckled the spokesman, "in due time. For the present, we can be ourselves. As I

was saying, our task is merely to overpower the servants, so that they can testify later that hoodlums were

A blotch of darkness had moved between a street lamp and the parked car. None of the disguised crooks

observed it. If they had, they would not have classed it as a human form. The blotch was scarcely more than a

Beyond it, however, was a cloaked shape that blended with the darkness of a house wall. The Shadow,

arriving on foot, had stopped by the car where he heard the voices. Talk was ended, but The Shadow had

Vanished thugs fitted with The Shadow's own theory. Police roundups had failed because crooks were of a

new and unsuspected ilk. Not thugs but persons who passed as gentlemen were the members of the masked

mobs that had torn Manhattan wide apart. The Shadow suspected that these workers had been imported; but

From the conversation in the car, The Shadow could gain no clue to the actual identity of the criminals; but

he decided to let that matter wait. What he had learned, was that these men intended to invade Warrendon's

The Shadow's natural course was to be on hand to greet them in his superb and unique style. Finding out who

As yet, The Shadow had not heard of a master crook who called himself the Wasp. Nor had he heard of

George Ambril. At the present moment, the latter fact was more important. Unless The Shadow moved

The Shadow did move swiftly, but with certain necessary detours. He kept to the gloom, which forced a

roundabout course; furthermore, he stopped to check on another car, which contained a second load of silent

After that, The Shadow headed for the rear street, where he contacted the cab that had followed the limousine

from the Cobalt Club. Having sent the limousine home, The Shadow intended to use the cab in an

He owned the cab, as well as the limousine; the cab driver, Moe Shrevnitz, was one of The Shadow's secret

agents. Unlike Stanley, Cranston's chauffeur, Moe figured often in running battles against crooks.

Moe had parked near a corner, as any hopeful cabby would, looking for a fare. From his vantage point, he

That settled, The Shadow undertook to enter Warrendon's house. The task proved simple enough. An

MEANWHILE, a slow, but tense, drama was unfolding within the Warrendon mansion. Seated in a small

reception room, George Ambril was receiving the apologies of a polite servant named Hector.

It appeared that Mr. Warrendon had not expected Mr. Ambril so soon, but Hector promised to go upstairs and

Hector had hardly started up the stairs before Ambril was at the door of the reception room, peering avidly

into the hall. He knew where Warrendon's den was at the back of the library on the ground floor. Gauging

the time that it would take him to go there and return, Ambril set himself an extra task.

On the other side of the hall was a side door leading into the house, an excellent route for the crew to use

later; in fact, the very way that they would surely try. Ambril decided that an open door would help matters as

Instead of darting for the den as soon as Hector was out of sight, Ambril made for the side door and carefully

That done, Ambril moved across to the den. He turned on the light and closed the door behind him, leaving it

very slightly ajar. Glancing at the pictures that lined the paneled walls, he tried to pick out the hunting scene

One picture showed some hunting dogs; another, two men trudging along a road, with guns. A third depicted

a fox hunt in active progress. It was probably the one that the Wasp meant, but when Ambril tried to move

the picture, it didn't budge. So he tried the other two, which cost him valuable time, since they were tightly

Returning to the fox hunt, Ambril used new tactics. Instead of tugging at the picture, he used a sliding

process. It finally slithered upward under pressure, and showed the door of a little wall safe; stout, but not

Fumbling in his pockets, Ambril found the key. It fitted the lock. He was turning the key triumphantly when

Wheeling, Ambril saw Hector on the threshold. The servant had returned; not finding Ambril in the reception

room, he had noted the light from the crack of the den door. Hector was more than a faithful servant: he was a

wary one. He had armed himself with one of Warrendon's canes before coming in to accost Ambril.

Sight of Ambril's face, with its gloss changed to an ugly expression, was all that Hector needed. With a shout

that carried through the house, the servant made a lunge into the den. He turned his head as he shouted,

hoping that Warrendon would hear. In that moment, Ambril drove in, to meet Hector's lunge.

The swinging cane missed Ambril's head, but Hector made up for the slip. He was thwacking hard, as they

reeled out into the hall. The blows that Ambril partly warded knocked the confusion from the crook's brain.

He was beset with the sudden thought that overpowering Hector wouldn't be enough. The servant could still

Dodging wide of Hector's strongest stroke, Ambril yanked a revolver from his pocket and jabbed a shot

straight for Hector's heart. It was luck, not good aim, that felled the servant.

Astonished at his own deed, Ambril saw Hector coil before him, dead. Out of the echoes of the gunshot, he

Swinging, Ambril saw Warrendon's face, a pudgy one, almost as white as the collarless shirt that the man was

wearing. At the same moment, masked men surged through the side door that Ambril had unlocked. To the

killer's mind flashed the thought of his own alibi. It came first. He waved toward the masked men.

"They murdered Hector!" shouted Ambril. "Look out, Warrendon, or they'll kill you, too!"

At that moment, a door shot open just across the hall. Against the light of a little pantry, Ambril saw another

figure; one cloaked in black. Thoughts of an alibi sped from Ambril's mind, as he recognized the newcomer

A CROOK by nature, schooled in the service of the Wasp, Ambril could not forego this chance to down

crime's archfoe. He had luck with him again, for his revolver was almost aimed. His frenzy gave him

Seldom had The Shadow been in such a tight spot as at this moment, when Ambril's gun took its last jog

Then, as The Shadow made a desperate shift, the roar of half a dozen guns beat Ambril to the shot. Flayed by

a deluge of bullets, the killer jounced high, his gun hand jerking upward as he completed pressure on the

trigger. The bullet from Ambril's revolver zimmed inches above The Shadow's head.

Ambril had seen The Shadow, but his pals from outside hadn't. They had heard Ambril put the blame on

They had been told to handle Ambril if he tried a double cross. Aiming for Ambril as he wheeled to meet The

They were masked, those roughly attired thugs, as they surged into the hallway intending to handle crime in

their own way. They wanted to overpower Warrendon; to rifle his wall safe and complete crime in a way that

would suit the Wasp. But their surge ended under a double attack from the flanks.

Warrendon was leaping in from one side, with a puny automatic that he had brought downstairs with him.

The Shadow was coming from the other direction, seeking closerange battle. He was swinging his

automatics, to drive the first crooks back upon the others a better method than gunfire, at the outset of the

Crooks reeled, shooting wide. Those in back fired uselessly, as they dodged the men who were falling back

on them. The Shadow's big guns aimed, ready to drop hapless crooks with bullets before they could get away.

Warrendon was on him. Still thinking that Ambril was a friend, Warrendon mistakenly took The Shadow for

a foe. The odds that The Shadow had gained over the masked crew were gone, as he flattened beneath

The cloaked fighter's shots had gone as wide as theirs. Out of this new situation, the Wasp's masked invaders

THEY lunged as they aimed, those masked marksmen of the Wasp, and they were greeted with a real

surprise. It came in the shape of Herbert Warrendon, a portly missile that hit them crosswise before they

Flat on his back, The Shadow provided the only answer. Warrendon was half upon him, when he doubled his

knees and drove both feet against the fellow, sending him on his way. It was dangerous for Warrendon, but

The Shadow knew that Warrendon's life depended on his own. By helping himself, he might help Warrendon

The leading thugs missed Warrendon when they fired. Their guns were above his level when he struck them.

By the time they aimed again, The Shadow had a human shield. Rolling across the floor, he hoisted Ambril's

It seemed that a dead man was delivering the spurts that issued from the gun muzzle. Many types of

opponents would have fled at such a sight. The recoils of the automatic jogged Ambril's body into imitation

Glassy eyes were staring, dead lips wore a grotesque smile, as the head bobbed back and forth. But The

Shadow's present foemen were not the type to be deceived by such an outlandish illusion.

They had slain Ambril themselves, and they promptly recognized The Shadow's ruse. But with such

recognition, they also realized the folly of keeping up this battle. A corpse was stopping their bullets short of

The Shadow. Defensively, they were safe for the present, but only because the dead weight of The Shadow's

One man, serving as leader of the masked mob, blasted a shot from the side door. The fellow was too ardent

to remember that he should disguise his cry. His command for departure was given in a cultured tone, such as

Warrendon failed to notice the discrepancy. The portly man was scrambling on hands and knees, seeking

shelter from the shots that whizzed above his head. His ears heard nothing but the gun bursts. Even when the

firing stopped, he thought he still could hear the airsplitting sounds. Safe in the doorway of his study,

Battle was finished, as suddenly as it had begun. The rapid exchange of shots had taken place during the

comparatively few seconds that Warrendon needed for his mad crawl. Masked men were piling out through

The Shadow was coming up from the floor wielding a smoking automatic, as he let Ambril's body tumble

Had the crooks stayed on the ground, they would have suffered heavy losses, with doubtful chances of

eliminating The Shadow. Ordinary thugs would have handled the risk; but not these men. They were not

gunners by profession; not the sort to hurl themselves blindly into a path of fire. They were willing to give,

To Warrendon's eyes, it looked like a rout, with The Shadow triumphant. But Warrendon was wrong. The

Shadow's fire had been as hasty as that of the opposition. He had tried to scatter his enemies, hoping to pick

Their primary purpose in every crime was to keep their identities concealed. They were choosing flight, to

abide by that stringent rule. Except for two groggy men who had been cudgeled by The Shadow's gun strokes

and a third who had received a bullet in his gun arm, the crew was practically intact.

By the time The Shadow reached the side door, to aim along an outer passage to the front street, his enemies

were out of sight, dragging their stumbling pals with them. They were getting back to their cars, hoping to

Pausing, The Shadow fired two quick shots straight upward. Hard upon the echoes, he delivered a weird,

outlandish laugh that reverberated from the brownstone walls that lined the narrow passage. The taunt, like

the shots, spurred the masked men into more rapid flight; but the sounds actually offset the chances for a

The Shadow had dispatched a signal to Moe, in the rear street. Obeying the summons, the speedy cabby

whipped around to the front, reaching Warrendon's door to find The Shadow waiting for him. Boarding the

cab while it was still in motion, The Shadow pointed out the corner that the fugitive cars had rounded.

WITHIN a few blocks, the cars were sighted. Spying the cab behind them, the gunmen opened a fire which

The Shadow promptly returned. The range was too long for accuracy, but the shooting suited The Shadow.

The crooks were marking themselves as fugitives; in his turn, The Shadow was establishing himself as their

pursuer. Should police patrol cars be encountered, they would take up the chase, along with The Shadow.

Some cool head in the front car must have recognized the folly, for the firing ceased suddenly. Trying to

outdistance Moe in the straightaway, the mobsters soon learned that they were being tagged by a special

highgeared cab that could keep up with them. The fleeing cars began to round corners, hoping to shake off

Their new policy was a mistake. Moe slashed corners, hopped protruding curbs, in a most spectacular style.

He was gaining at every turn; a few more blocks, and The Shadow would have the range. Abreast on a

oneway street, the fleeing cars offered a double target for The Shadow's coming fire.

In a last, desperate effort, the Wasp's men tried to reverse their course. They thought that by heading back

As the cars took a corner clumsily, the occupants heard The Shadow's strident mockery, along with the roar

Still abreast, the cars were holding to the straightaway as the cab loomed behind them. Half from a window,

The Shadow was taking steady aim, urging Moe to close the gap, only a few yards more. Moe was doing it,

Taking a crossing side by side, the crookmanned cars nearly collided with a large automobile that was

rolling in from the right. To avoid them, the driver of the big car yanked his machine to the left, turning the

wrong direction on the oneway street. He cleared the passing cars, but shoved his huge vehicle right into the

The cab performed a whirligig spin, as Moe jammed the brakes and twisted the steering wheel. A stop on

such short notice seemed impossible, but Moe managed it despite the cab's mad sway.

He couldn't avoid a crash, but he lessened the impact. The cab leaped at the big car like a small beast

attacking a large one. It jolted as it sprang, cutting its lurch as fenders locked at an angle.

It was the cab that took the brunt. Built light for quick pickup, it couldn't wreck the massive vehicle it hit. The

cab's hood telescoped, as the radiator smashed back upon the motor. Braced against the steering wheel, Moe

Doors crumpled; the rear seat crackled. The Shadow was pitched to the floor. That was the last Moe saw of

him for the next two minutes, while men were springing from the big car, to reach the halfwrecked cab.

Moe gave a bewildered blink as he recognized the car that he had struck. It was the official car belonging to

Police Commissioner Weston. The men who were asking if Moe had been hurt were Weston and his

chauffeur. Slowly, Moe shook his head; then, catching a whisper from the rear seat, he nudged in that

A man sagged from the door as Weston reached it. He looked groggy, but his pose was a pretense. The

Shadow lacked his hat and cloak; he had disposed of them while on the floor. In his present guise, he was

"I was on my way to Warrendon's," explained The Shadow, in Cranston's style. "I stopped elsewhere on my

way, and Stanley had trouble parking the limousine. So I took this cab, hoping to reach Warrendon's ahead of

FINDING that Cranston was not hurt, Weston invited him into the official car, leaving Moe to get the

wrecked cab to a garage. They went on to Warrendon's, where Weston found a scene that amazed him.

Police cars had just arrived; the front door was wide open. Inside, the commissioner was greeted by his

Swarthy of countenance, stocky of build, Cardona was a veteran of the force, always prompt to reach the

scene of an important crime. With Warrendon giving coherent testimony concerning the deaths of Hector and

Ambril, it wasn't long before Cardona had pieced a complete story which was so plausible, that its incorrect

Actually, Cardona was not to blame for his faulty reconstruction; Warrendon's testimony was the stumbling

block. The portly man knew only half the real story, and unwittingly led the law astray.

"They came in there" Cardona pointed to the side door "a mob of them, all masked. Hector must have

opened the door when they knocked. They forced him into the den and made him pass over the key to the

"A duplicate key," inserted Warrendon. "One that I lost a few weeks ago. Hector must have found it while I

Weston was too busy listening to note the slight change of Cranston's expression. The Shadow was picturing

"I heard Hector shout," continued Warrendon. "So did Ambril, who was there" he pointed toward the front

of the hall "in the reception room. Ambril reached them just as they shot Hector. He must have snatched the

Warrendon paused to mop his broad forehead with a silk handkerchief. He shook his head sadly.

"Poor Ambril," he said. "Hector died stopping the attempted robbery. Ambril was killed seeking vengeance

on the assassins. He made a bad mistake, as I did later, when he took the man in black for an enemy."

The exclamation came from Commissioner Weston. In response, Inspector Cardona provided a wise nod.

"The Shadow," said Cardona. "He was after the mob. They put the blast on Ambril before The Shadow could

save him. They'd have gotten Warrendon, too, except for The Shadow. He drove them off."

"And followed them," added Warrendon. "I heard cars speeding away while I was calling headquarters."

Commissioner Weston nodded slowly. Officially, he didn't like to recognize The Shadow. As Weston often

argued, The Shadow might be anybody, until the blackcloaked fighter's identity became actually known.

Still, The Shadow's handling of certain cases left little room for doubt; and this was one such episode.

It never occurred to the commissioner that his friend Lamont Cranston could be The Shadow; least of all, on

such an occasion as this. Weston didn't connect the fleeing cars with the masked men who had sped from

He regarded them merely as speeders who had forced his big car into a collision with Cranston's cab. By all

common sense, Cranston himself had been coming to Warrendon's; not going away from there.

In nodding his acceptance of Warrendon's testimony and Cardona's summary, the commissioner did not give

a further thought to Cranston, until his friend remarked that he intended to go home.

Using Warrendon's phone, Cranston called the Cobalt Club and summoned his limousine, which had returned

there. When the big car arrived, Cranston entered it and rode away. He stopped briefly at the garage where

Moe had taken the wrecked cab. But his purpose was not merely to learn how the cabby had fared.

From the cab, The Shadow took the cloak and hat that he had left on the floor. Thus regaining the garb that he

The limousine was heading toward the Holland Tunnel, the route to Cranston's New Jersey residence, when

"I've changed my mind, Stanley." The tone was Cranston's. "I think I'll stop off and see a friend who lives at

AT that moment, Cranston was no longer Cranston, except for his voice. He was The Shadow, fully cloaked.

It had an address that Cranston had written while calling the Cobalt Club from Warrendon's. The Shadow had

The Shadow had looked up the address of George Ambril, to find it listed as Martillo Apartments. Elsewhere

in the book, he had found the address of the apartment house. So far as the law was concerned, Ambril was

Simonpure; but The Shadow was definitely sure that the dead man had been the spearhead of tonight's

Ambril's frenzy in aiming for The Shadow had been a giveaway. In addition, The Shadow saw flaws in

Masked men were merely entering at the moment when Ambril shouted that they were to blame for Hector's

death. Ambril had sought an alibi; the others had accepted it as a double cross. The Shadow knew.

Therefore, The Shadow was seeking to retrace crime through the one man immediately responsible: George

Ambril. Through such a lead, the cloaked investigator hoped to find a trail to crime's real head, an unknown

The Shadow was already thinking in terms of a hidden plotter whose followers knew him only as the Wasp!

THE Martillo Apartments were quite expensive, for the building stood in a restricted neighborhood. The

building itself was not large, but the apartments were commodious. Vacancies were always filled with very

On this particular evening, the superintendent was showing an apartment to a very attractive young lady, who

The inquirer was a blonde, whose bluish eyes carried an innocent stare. Her dress was tasteful as well as

expensive; when she learned that the apartment would be rented furnished, she showed her first sign of

"Of course, we can put in other furniture," the superintendent explained hastily. "As it now stands, the

apartment was arranged as a bachelor's quarters. Mr. Ambril, the present tenant, is leaving tonight. We can

The superintendent paused. He hadn't yet learned the young lady's name. Nor did she give it at this moment,

for she was busy looking about the apartment, as if picking places where she would like the new furnishings

Through the halfopened door of the apartment came the distant tinkle of a telephone bell.

"Someone is calling my office," he said, apologetically. "I'll be right back, miss."

Ambril's apartment was on the third floor. By the time the superintendent had entered the automatic elevator

to go down to the first floor, the blonde had lost her baby stare. She was at Ambril's telephone, dialing a

A buzzed tone came from the receiver. It was a voice that the blonde recognized. Briskly, she identified

"Velma Corl," she undertoned. "I'm up at Ambril's. The call just came to the superintendent; he's gone

Apparently, Velma was to have ten minutes. She smiled when she heard the Wasp's reply. The call to the

Whoever he was, the caller would keep the superintendent thoroughly occupied with questions about

vacancies, rentals, various services, and all the other odds and ends that might interest a prospective tenant.

Finishing her call to the Wasp, Velma began new operations. Her redlacquered fingernails had the speed of

tiger's claws, as they went through Ambril's belongings, scattered about the apartment. Like claws, they were

seeking what they wanted; swiftly, Velma was snatching up every bit of evidence that might link Ambril to

Her choice was clever. Velma did not disturb a single item that related to Ambril's regular occupation. She

left most things as they were, to cover the fact that the place had been ransacked, which was easy,

What Velma wanted were names and addresses; letters and memos relating to persons who served the Wasp.

Literally, she was cutting Ambril's name off from the organization, so that no trace of his double life would

The bills were important. A flock of them would show that Ambril had lived beyond his means and therefore

might have aligned himself with men of crime. Checking the bills as she stuffed them into a handbag, Velma

Tomorrow, these bills would be off the books because of money delivered through friends of Ambril, who

Velma wasn't worrying about future problems; they could be handled by the Wasp. But she knew quite well

that this present work was highly important. It was the equivalent of destroying evidence which, if found by

VELMA was pleased because she had been the first to reach Ambril's. She had not worried about getting here

before the law; her problem was The Shadow. Velma hadn't been very far from Warrendon's when the battle

When The Shadow pursued the fugitives, Velma had seen the chase go by and had reported promptly to the

Wasp. Her chief had therewith ordered her to make this visit to Ambril's apartment.

Her work complete, Velma was stepping toward the door of the apartment, when she heard a clang from the

elevator. Whipping clear about, the blonde made a quick trip across the living room, through the door to

From the open bag where she had thrust the bills, she pulled out a small snubnosed revolver.

As she crouched in darkness, Velma's entire figure quivered; not with fear, but with eagerness. She had

become a jungle cat, anxious for prey, hopeful that this adventure might bring her an opportunity to kill. A

creature of the Wasp, Velma Corl had learned to hate all persons who might interfere with schemes of crime.

Footsteps told that persons from the elevator were going to another apartment. Disappointed, Velma stirred

toward the living room, when a chance sight caused her to crouch again. Through the crack of the door, she

Velma remembered a stairway beside the elevator. The blackness must have come from that direction. It had

waited, lurking, because of the persons who left the elevator; again, it was on the move. Its creepy approach

reminded Velma of oily smoke; it might be any monstrous thing, but certainly not a human figure.

Momentarily, the blonde was unnerved; then she understood the illusion. She had mistaken the shadow of the

entering figure for part of the form itself. What she saw now was no longer a mere shadow, cast ahead. It was

Already through the door, the weird investigator was approaching Ambril's desk. A glowing lamp showed

The Shadow in full detail; above the muffling collar of his cloak, Velma could make out the upper features of

a hawkish profile. Not enough to identify The Shadow, for the brim of his slouch hat partially obscured the

What Velma noted most was a pair of burning eyes that reflected the glow of the desk lamp. Eyes that were

probing for the very sort of evidence that Velma herself had stolen from this apartment. Of all persons, The

Shadow was the one who could suspect that Ambril was a crook; that measures had been taken to cover up

Aiming her revolver deliberately, Velma pushed the muzzle through the crack of the bedroom door. She had

a direct bead on The Shadow as he stood beyond Ambril's desk, his gloved hands fingering papers that lay in

Velma's blue eyes took on a fiendish glitter. Her pose was murderous; her hand kept steady aim, while her

This was the time to close the trail. It was Velma's chance to see that The Shadow would never meet the

Wasp, to engage him in personal duel. Pushing her hand forward, Velma shoved the door a trifle wider

without disturbing her aim. Her gun pointed straight for the heart of her cloaked target, the murderous blonde

The aim was perfect. No matter how swiftly he moved, The Shadow could never have flung himself from the

VELMA saw a swirl of black as she fired. The Shadow had heard the creak of the door; sensing a menace, he

His sideward dive was too late. The only thing that saved him was the action of his left hand. His fingers

There wasn't time to fling the lamp toward Velma; her aim was undisturbed. But the lamp itself served The

Shadow's purpose. It was heavy, constructed entirely of metal, from its squatty base to its mushroomshaped

shade. As The Shadow tried to scale the lamp, it tilted through sheer weight, coming upward as he grabbed.

The very accuracy of Velma's aim was the thing that spoiled her death thrust. Coming straight toward her

tonguing gun, the lamp top received the bullet with a clang. Ricocheting from the metal, the slug skimmed

Madly, Velma fired more shots, which ripped the mahogany frame of Ambril's desk. She was starting out

through the doorway, trying to locate The Shadow on the floor; but this time, Velma's own effort was belated.

Hearing a mocking laugh, she recoiled as The Shadow appeared suddenly from the wrong side of the desk, a

Frantically, Velma dashed for the darkened bedroom before The Shadow could obtain a good view of her

face. He saw the fluff of blond hair, heard the horrified scream that the girl gave. In that cry, however, The

Shadow detected trickery. Once captured, Velma would claim that her shots were a mistake; she would deny

Her shriek was a buildup to that later alibi. Velma hoped that it would win The Shadow's sympathy and

thereby cause him to withhold his fire. It happened, however, The Shadow did not fire; as she fled Velma

thought that her ruse had succeeded. Actually, she was rendering her position more hopeless.

Rising from the floor, The Shadow was starting a silent pursuit, planning to trap the blonde in a room which

had no outlet. He recognized that Velma had come here to cover up Ambril's past; he knew, too, that she had

The Shadow wanted to capture the feminine assassin alive; she was one person who could talk, and provide a

As at Warrendon's, The Shadow's purpose was blocked by a misguided effort on the part of a new arrival.

Halfway across the living room, The Shadow was flanked by an assailant who flung himself fiercely upon the

fighter in black. The man was the building superintendent, returned from the ground floor.

Hastening at the sound of gunfire, the superintendent reached Ambril's apartment just as Velma gave her

shriek. Seeing the girl in flight, with The Shadow beginning armed pursuit, the fellow took it that Velma was

the person in the right. Believing that he was rescuing a helpless woman, he put real ardor into the fray, as he

Together, they reeled across the room, knocking over the desk, along with chairs that they encountered on the

way. Boxed in the other room, Velma heard the sounds of the furious struggle and saw a chance for escape.

Still carrying her gun, she darted out through the living room, toward the hallway.

She had no chance to aim for The Shadow. He was flinging the superintendent aside and was swinging from

a corner, to aim a gun at Velma. The girl was in the living room before The Shadow was full about; but

Ahead was the automatic elevator, its lights shining through a little window in the steel door. Yanking the

The Shadow fired a warning shot to stop her; his bullet flattened itself against the door. Then Velma was

inside the elevator, starting down, still hoping that the superintendent would delay The Shadow.

Velma's ally was totally out of the fray. He was sitting in a corner of Ambril's living room, the remnants of a

chair wrapped around his neck. The superintendent was wondering how a tornado had managed to get into

the apartment house. That was all he could remember of his struggle with The Shadow.

CHOOSING the stairs as a quick route to the ground floor, The Shadow counted upon overtaking Velma. He

had hardly turned toward the steps, when two men in uniform sprang for him. They were policemen, on their

The shot that The Shadow fired at the elevator caused him some immediate trouble. The officers had heard

Pulling their revolvers, the cops met The Shadow. He straightarmed one, swung a gunweighted fist at the

other's jaw. Valiantly, the officers rallied, shouting for others to join them. During brief seconds, there was a

whirl of blue and black, as police uniforms seemed to mingle with The Shadow's cloak.

Out of that melee came The Shadow, leaving the officers sprawled and dazed, trying to find the guns that

they had lost. Headon, The Shadow met a stocky man in plain clothes coming from the stairs. They collided,

The Shadow had encountered Inspector Cardona. Though Joe still believed that Ambril was a victim of

crime, he had decided to come over to the dead man's apartment. In Cardona's estimation, crooks might have

been seeking Ambril, as well as Warrendon. Like The Shadow, Cardona had come to look for clues.

Having met The Shadow in the past, Cardona avoided the mistake that the officers had made. Letting The

Shadow continue down the stairs, Joe shouted to the bluecoats, told them to grab their guns and follow.

Joe was conscious of a rumble from the elevator and knew that The Shadow must be after someone who had

The rumble stopped before The Shadow reached the ground floor. Hurrying out to the street, the

blackcloaked fighter saw a car swing around the corner; he glimpsed a blondhaired girl beside the driver.

Not having Moe's cab, pursuit was out of the question; nevertheless, The Shadow sensed that battle was not

Wheeling about, he saw another car coming up, guns poking from its windows. Already in darkness, The

Shadow could have dropped deeper and nailed those amateur gunners when they came along. Instead, he

made a sudden drive back into the doorway of the apartment house. The crooks fired, too late to reach the

The Shadow's swift drive was all the more remarkable, considering that he met a human obstacle just within

the door. The obstacle was Joe Cardona, coming out to make himself a target for the sharpshooters in the

Flattening the ace inspector, The Shadow crouched low, while riddling bullets demolished the door of the

apartment house. When the hail had passed, The Shadow made a quick departure just as the stumbling

In blocking off Cardona from harm, The Shadow had given up his opportunity to deal with the men who

covered Velma's getaway. The Shadow's trail to the Wasp was closed; but he still hoped for clues that would

lead him to the hidden master crook. He knew, however, such clues might be very frugal.

AS Cranston, an hour later, The Shadow stopped at the Cobalt Club, where he found Commissioner Weston

in conference with Inspector Cardona. The commissioner told his friend about the new angle in the

The law still considered George Ambril as innocent. Cardona's search of the dead man's apartment had

produced nothing of any consequence. Even more remarkable was the opinion concerning Velma Corl.

She was classed simply as what she represented herself to be a young lady who had called to look at an

apartment. The fact that Ambril's apartment was the only vacancy, made it natural enough that Velma should

In his report, Cardona stated that the building superintendent thought The Shadow had fired shots at Velma.

That, of course, was ridiculous, in Cardona's opinion. He decided that The Shadow must have fired at some

thugs, who were lucky enough to escape in the elevator. He took it for granted that the missing blonde, a

Naturally, Cardona didn't expect her to return. Whoever she was, she had probably had enough of the

Cardona's theories were sensible enough, considering the gun fray that had taken place, later, in the street.

Again, Cardona insisted upon including The Shadow in his report, and Commissioner Weston offered no

When the inspector had gone, Weston remembered something that he promptly mentioned to his friend

"I believe that we were right," declared the commissioner, solemnly. "That talk we heard this evening, here at

Cranston showed immediate interest; something that he rarely did, when Weston talked. Encouraged, the

"Warrendon brought back some valuable mining options from his trip. He told me that they were worth much

more than he paid for them. It may be that those raiders were paid to get them."

"I don't know." Weston shrugged, in response to Cranston's question. "We must seek the answer tomorrow."

"I asked Warrendon that question," replied Weston. "He suggests that we go with him to see Basil Gannaford,

the business counselor who hopes to reorganize Consolidation Metals. Gannaford can certainly tell us the

"Consolidation Metals needs those options, and Gannaford advised them to borrow all they could, to buy

them. Whether or not someone was trying to block the sale, is a question. It may be that the crooks knew

nothing whatever about the options, and were merely after Warrendon's cash. I don't like to commit myself,

Reaching in his pocket, Weston brought out a memo pad and made a note to call Cardona in the morning, so

that the inspector could go with them to Gannaford's. Replacing the pad, Weston found something else and

"Ambril's wallet," remarked Weston. "I should have given it to Inspector Cardona. It contains nothing but a

Removing the items mentioned, Weston showed them to his friend. Reaching for them casually, Cranston

was careful that Weston did not note his eyes. The Shadow's gaze showed a sudden gleam of interest.

The Shadow was intrigued by the owner's license that gave the make of Ambril's car. The car was a new and

expensive model, according to the license card, and its plates had been issued very recently. The fact

"Was Ambril going on a trip?" inquired The Shadow, casually. "Did Warrendon say anything "

"Ambril was taking over a Midwestern territory for a cigar company," explained the commissioner. "That is,

he had the offer and intended to try it for a while. He was to leave for Cincinnati tonight."

"I would say so, considering that he was starting so late. But it really doesn't matter, Cranston."

IT did matter, although The Shadow did not press the point. Ambril's purchase of a new car indicated that he

would certainly have intended to motor to Ohio. The fact that he was leaving late at night could be regarded

Mere indications, these, but enough to furnish The Shadow with a potential trail, considering that he had

The Shadow passed the business cards back to Weston, along with the owner's license, which promised to be

an important clue. The commissioner was rising, as he put the items back in the wallet; hence he failed to see

A tiny object fluttered to the table and lay there, a transparent wisp that only the keenest eyes could have

Weston was gone when The Shadow plucked the object from the table and held it to the light. He identified it

immediately as a wasp's wing, an odd thing for a New Yorker to be carrying in a wallet full of business cards.

A soft laugh issued from Cranston's lips; a tone so low that it was scarcely audible. The mirth was The

Shadow's. To his eyes, the wasp's wing was a token of identity, symbolizing the master hand that had ruled

Out of a strange medley of adventures, The Shadow had obtained proof that pointed to the actual existence of

THE offices of Basil Gannaford occupied a high floor of the Wall Street Trust Building, a great skyscraper in

Once inside, however, visitors were confronted by a rather remarkable scene. Gannaford's offices spread over

the entire floor and were partitioned into many sections which bore the names of diversified companies.

A man of high finance, Gannaford had taken ailing enterprises under his wing and made them pay, to the

How Gannaford managed it was no mystery. He was quite willing to divulge his system. He stated that he

had applied the chainstore method to various enterprises, thus lessening the overhead of each individual

As an example, one office bore the title "Purchasing Agent." The man who handled that department was the

buyer for all the companies that Gannaford controlled. Similarly, he had combined selling forces, research

departments, and other groups, until all the corporations were somewhat interwoven.

The Shadow had often heard of Basil Gannaford, but he had never met the financial wizard. Gannaford's

specialty was pulling companies out of the red, and such businesses were not the type in which Lamont

Hence, when he called at Gannaford's in the morning, the leisurely Mr. Cranston had much to look at, while

On one office, painters were marking the name of "Consolidation Metals," which was flanked by an oil

company on one side and a steamship corporation on the other. Studying other doors, The Shadow readily

understood why the directors of Consolidation Metals were so pleased to have Gannaford take over their

The mere connection would make business. Gannaford could find new consumers and profitable accounts

right among his own industries. Recognizing this, The Shadow looked forward to his meeting with the

Commissioner Weston arrived, along with Inspector Cardona. Joining them, Cranston was ushered through a

door marked "Private." From a large inner office that contained half a dozen employees, they entered a door

Beyond was another door, marked "President." After a brief wait, the visitors were conducted through, into

the presence of Basil Gannaford himself. The directors of Consolidation Metals were also in the office, but

Physically, Basil Gannaford looked small, but that was not a disappointment. Visitors soon felt that they were

unduly criticizing his size, because he happened to be seated behind an enormous desk that made everything

Gradually, one came to regard the desk as part of Gannaford, and the effect was marked. Gannaford's mental

The Shadow recognized the illusion, and could feel its sway. By keeping a steady gaze on Gannaford, he

managed to gauge the man in better style than could the ordinary visitor. He found Gannaford a remarkable

Gannaford was elderly; his smile was friendly, his voice mild. His eyes had a keen glance, but they were

He had one pose, which he scarcely changed at all; that of leaning forward on his elbows, his chin resting on

his interwoven fingers. When he turned from one visitor to another, his head moved very slightly, for his eyes

GANNAFORD had finished most of his business with the directors of the metals company. He was ready to

talk with Commissioner Weston. Nodding his head toward a stack of papers on the desk, Gannaford gave the

"Warrendon's options," stated Gannaford. "He was here a short while ago, and sold them to us. We have you

Weston gave silent acceptance to the compliment, though it did not belong to him. Rather than bring up the

"About these options, Mr. Gannaford," he questioned, "who else could have wanted them besides yourself?"

"I did not want them," he corrected. "They were needed by Consolidation Metals to make the refinancing of

"No one," replied Gannaford. "Yet there are several companies that would have liked to acquire them."

"To put Consolidation Metals out of business," answered Gannaford, smiling at Weston's puzzlement. "The

simple fact is this, commissioner. Without these options, Consolidation Metals would have gone into

"They are all in the telephone directory," returned Gannaford. "You will find them listed in the red book,

under the head of 'Wholesale Metals.' But I doubt that it would help you, commissioner."

Patiently, Gannaford explained. He was like a professor, lecturing a class of one. As he put it, no metals

company would have tried to steal the options. Big business was not conducted in that fashion. The thing

struck him more as an individual purpose on the part of some criminal with a flare for underhand

"Once bankrupt, Consolidation Metals could be bought up for a song," declared Gannaford. "I might have

become a bidder myself. The same could apply to you, commissioner; or better, to your friend here, Mr.

Cranston, who, as I understand, has been quite fortunate in picking investments."

Cranston smiled at the compliment, which was the only thing to do, considering that it came from so able a

"Quite," replied The Shadow. "It means that, had the criminal succeeded in stealing the options, he could

have destroyed them, and later posed simply as a bidder for Consolidation Metals, with a chance of tripling

"Exactly!" agreed Gannaford. "Therefore" he turned his eyes toward Weston "your problem,

commissioner, is to find a worthy criminal. One who possesses both money and genius."

The thing struck Weston as an excellent point. After twisting the points of his mustache, the commissioner

"Could there have been a leak from this office, concerning the intended purchase of the options?"

"Possibly," replied Gannaford. "I must admit that I have left too much to my department heads and have not

kept contact with the lesser employees. I intend, in the future, to interview each new man "

Gannaford paused, his statements smothered by an increasing chorus of protests from the directors of

Consolidation Metals. They couldn't listen to Gannaford's acceptance of the blame. The fault was theirs; they

In trying to convince Weston of the fact, they had chosen the right man. Weston, himself, had overheard them

"I think that settles it," declared the commissioner, as he rose. "Thank you for the interview, Mr. Gannaford.

Especially your opinion that crime has a brain behind it; a man with money and genius. It is something that I

ALL during the sixtystory ride down to the street, Commissioner Weston was harping on the subject of

bigtime crime and the measures that must be taken to combat it. Inspector Cardona was an ardent listener,

The Shadow was no longer thinking in terms of Basil Gannaford and the financial wizard's opinions. He was

considering the case of George Ambril, the man whose past might furnish a lead to some hidden supercrook,

Leaving the commissioner, Cranston rode in his limousine to a rather squalid section of Manhattan, where he

When Cranston entered the shop, Stanley, the chauffeur, prepared for a long and patient wait. One of

Cranston's hobbies seemed to be watching the manufacture of handmade cigars, for he often stayed in that

Stanley did not know that his employer simply went through the cigar shop, and out a side door that lead to a

rear passage. Threading a course within the block, The Shadow eventually arrived at the basement entrance

He entered there as Cranston, but immediately became The Shadow, as he stepped into the darkness beyond a

Soon afterward, there was a sharp click in a pitchblack room. A bluish light gleamed upon the surface of a

polished table. The Shadow was in his sanctum, opening envelopes that contained reports from agents. His

Clippings first. There were bundles of them, all pertaining to crimes. Most of them were outoftown cases,

that The Shadow had ignored, for they were petty compared to heavy crimes in Manhattan. But those

The Shadow had learned definitely that the Wasp was sending workers on the road. The Wasp could be

Already, The Shadow considered his superfoe by the name that the master crook actually used. The wasp's

wing from Ambril's wallet had left no other choice. Just as The Shadow had gained his own sobriquet from

The Wasp could sting, with bullets that his followers delivered. George Ambril had felt such a thrust at

Warrendon's after delivering a sting to Hector. The Shadow had barely escaped a similar fate, on two

occasions in one night: first, when Ambril had been chopped down before he could trigger a fatal gunshot;

again, when Velma Corl had ruined a metal lamp with a shot meant for The Shadow's heart.

The clippings, however, would come later. For the present, The Shadow needed local data. He obtained it

from report sheets in other envelopes. The Shadow's agents had done good work. They had located the garage

Reports told that the car was gone, and named the man who had taken it: Jack Prenter. There was data on

Prenter, too. He worked for an advertising agency and had been shifted to the Cleveland office, where he was

The Shadow spread a road map on the table. He had a link, a definite one: Ambril's transfer to Cincinnati;

Prenter's new job in Cleveland. He traced the routes that the two might have taken in the same car. He listed

towns along those roads, calculating them all from a considerable distance outside of New York.

Next came the clippings. The Shadow weeded them out, while he referred to the list. He formed a scant group

of piles that related to towns along the chosen routes. Of those heaps, only one looked promising. The

clippings in that heap concerned a town named Richmont, too small ordinarily to be in the news.

THERE had been recent robberies in Richmont, and the town authorities were baffled. Richmont feared the

thing that had happened in other places: a major robbery culminating a series of minor ones. Comparing the

clippings with others from the past, The Shadow foresaw that Richmont was ripe for a large payoff.

Lesser robberies had totaled considerable profit to the perpetrators, when the sums were added; but if these

deeds were maneuvered by the Wasp, the final blow would have to be a large one. The Shadow was gaining a

Unquestionably, the master crook imported men to New York, used them for city crimes, then sent them to

the sticks to aid in other illegal deeds. His flow of criminal talent kept up a steady stream, increasing in

Gauged by previous experience, the final robbery in the town of Richmont would be far more baffling to the

The Shadow's forefinger rested on the map, squarely upon the town of Richmont. His other hand reached up,

to click off the bluish lamp. Complete darkness filled the sanctum; with it, came the weird tone of a strange

Ghostly in tone, ghoulish in the echoes that repeated it, The Shadow's mirth promised ill to distant servers of

THE little town of Richmont squatted glumly amid surrounding hills, like a sullen creature basking in the

afternoon sun. Richmont preferred daylight to night, and with good reason. Things happened at night that the

A gloomy group of men were discussing such events in the office of Burgess Wendel, which was located

above Wendel's general store. Wendel, the burgess, and Wendel, the merchant, were one and the same, both

represented by a dour, crabfaced individual who kept rubbing his bald head, as if seeking to add to its

"It beats me," drawled Wendel, finally. "Sheriff Cady is coming over to town tonight, to give us what help he

can. I allow I won't be here to meet him until late, considering that my granddaughter is having a birthday

party over to Northfield. But what I'm going to say to the sheriff, I don't know, unless Glenn Torbin, here, can

Finished with his speech, the burgess swung toward a darkhaired man of thirty, who formed a silent

member of the group. It was obvious that Torbin did not belong in Richmont. His clothes were not only

perfect in their fit; they lacked the mailorder touch apparent with the rest of the group. One word could

When he spoke, Torbin seemed apologetic. He did not want to interfere with matters in Richmont, and he

said so. The statement won immediate favor with the listeners, particularly Burgess Wendel.

"You're from Richmont, Glenn," insisted the burgess. "Just because you've been in New York nigh onto three

years, doesn't mean that we've forgot you. We're proud of you, Glenn. You're one of us. Mebbe, with your

Thus encouraged, Glenn Torbin began to express himself in a fashion that won him further acclaim.

"I'm rather glad I came home for a vacation," said Torbin. "It's given me a chance to see the old town in a

new light. Things have changed a lot in the last three years. Richmont is waking up."

"I was lucky in New York," he declared. "I started as a clerk in a travel bureau, and moved up to assistant

manager within a year. I'm due to be manager when I go back. Things move fast in New York."

"They're moving here, too," continued Torbin, "but not as fast. What's more, there aren't as many

opportunities in Richmont. I'm wondering" he paused, shook his head "just how some of the local

"Exactly what I said!" he exclaimed. "Glenn, here, has hit the nail on the head! All the young folks do is

listen to the radio, hoping to win some money on some of those cashgiveaway programs. What's more"

he lowered his voice to a hush "all these things that have happened hereabouts were done by somebody that

"No, no!" It was Torbin who objected. "Keith isn't a bad kid. Don't judge him by his pranks."

"Whatever he does," reminded Wendel, "the others follow. Keith didn't hoist old Trelawney's jalopy up to the

"That's just it," pleaded Glenn. "Keith doesn't do things alone. He knows the crowd in this town so well, that I

The group showed doubt. Some of the listeners nodded; others shook their heads. Glenn Torbin finally settled

"I'll talk to Keith, anyway," he said. "I might be able to get him a job in New York, which would take him off

"Good riddance," commented the burgess. "We won't have him shooting off the old cannon in the town

square next Fourth of July. Talk to Keith if you want, Glenn. You'll find him down in the Central Pool Parlor,

LEAVING the meeting, Glenn Torbin went to the pool parlor. He found Keith Ellerton engineering a

successful jump shot over the eight ball, much to the disappointment of the others in the game.

Keith was a young man in his early twenties, recognizable by his broad smile and light, wavy hair. Greeting

They went to Glenn's room at the Richmont Hotel. Looking around the place, Keith admired what he

"Not exactly," laughed Glenn. "They're up against a problem. They think these recent crimes are local."

"So do I," returned Keith, frankly. He strolled to the window and gazed steadily along the main street. "I wish

I knew who was in back of them. But I have a bigger wish than that. I'd like to be out of this burg."

Glenn's words brought Keith from the window, his face beaming with eagerness. He put the question:

"Let's analyze these crimes," suggested Glenn. "The crooks have knocked off about everything that's

"They've missed the biggest thing of all," he stated. "You know old Titus Gorham, don't you? The crabfaced

"A couple of weeks ago," replied Keith. "He's an old miser and won't trust the local bank, for which I can't

blame him much, considering that somebody unscrewed the bars from a window and took a few thousand

"Anyway, old Gorham is sore on banks. Sore on the whole money question, too, ever since the government

called in all the gold. They say he put most of his cash into jewelry, that he takes with him wherever he

Motioning, Keith drew Glenn to the window and pointed out a heavy clump of trees on a distant hill. Tiny

"There's where crime strikes next," assured Keith. "And you can take my word for it, Glenn, that it will hit

soon. Why should anybody wait?" He paused; then, noting Glenn's stare: "Anybody that's crooked, I mean."

"You know the place, Keith," he said. "Why not take a look up there tonight, and report back to me. Tell me

all you can about it; any weaknesses that ought to be watched. The sheriff is coming over to see Burgess

"You could, Glenn," he declared. "But I couldn't. They wouldn't listen. They say I'm too brash. What can I do

"Come to New York, Keith. I'll find a job for you. We'll talk about it after you come back from Gorham's."

"I give you my word." Glenn spoke seriously. "Tell your friends that you're going to New York. I'll stand by

His grin wider than ever, Keith left the hotel and stopped at the poolroom, where he told his friends the good

They didn't seem to take it as enthusiastically as Keith had expected. He began to understand why, when he

Keith Ellerton hated the term. He was one person who had never agreed that Glenn Torbin had become

successful in New York through good luck alone. Glenn was smart; he always had been. Whatever he gained,

he deserved. Keith felt that he had found his reward in standing up for Glenn against the arguments of others.

The streets of Richmont had darkened. A few wavering lights were twinkling at infrequent intervals. The

town traffic light was actually operating again, after three days during which it had been out of order. With a

He was going to get out of this town, with its one traffic light that didn't work. The thought swelled him.

Keith didn't have the illusion that the streets of New York were paved with gold. He knew they were paved,

From now on, Keith Ellerton was through with Richmont. He was through tonight, dating from this very

minute. True, he had a duty to perform, but it was one that he could accomplish alone. Keith smiled at the

thought that tonight he might be able to forestall crime, through a proper survey of the Gorham premises and

If he found things wrong there, he could tell Glenn Torbin. The rest would be up to Glenn; if anything came

of it, Glenn would probably give Keith full credit. But praise from the populace of Richmont no longer

interested Keith. He was thinking in terms of something much bigger the New York job that Glenn had

It was a proposition that Keith could not possibly lose. Tonight's test would be easy. Hoisting an old jalopy to

the highschool dome and firing off the townsquare cannon had been tasks far more difficult than paying a

secret visit to the Gorham mansion and learning all there was to know about the place.

Keith considered it in the light of another prank; a harmless one that would insure his future. He was looking

forward to his foray as a matter of mere routine; not as an exciting adventure. In that estimate, Keith Ellerton

Tonight, he would be due for more excitement than any of his escapades had offered. The town of Richmont

THE Gorham mansion loomed dimly under a clouded night sky. It was discernible chiefly because of a few

allnight lights that gleamed vaguely from its deepset windows. Approach to the house was simple,

Finished with his inspection of the grounds, Keith Ellerton began an advance from bush to bush, until he was

Along the curving driveway that led out to the hill road, Keith gained a distant view of bushes and trees. As

he stared in that direction, he noticed the lights of a car, that swerved suddenly and vanished. The car's

Keith could not tell whether it had entered the driveway or gone along the road. In either case, it would be

traveling without lights, unless it had stopped, which was something even more suspicious. His gaze ranging

the trees for further evidence of the mysterious car, Keith saw another glimmer, from a far direction, that cut

The new lights were from a narrow road that formed a rear entrance to the Gorham grounds. It wasn't

possible that the first car could have reached the second position in so short a space of time. Two mystery

cars, instead of one, was proof that Keith's visit to these preserves might bring unusual fruit.

Needing a better vantage point, Keith made for the house. He didn't want to be caught in blinding lights,

should a car come openly along the driveway. Should the darkened cars represent marauders, the mansion

itself would be their goal; once inside, Keith would be better able to confront them.

He was unarmed, but it did not matter. Quite convinced that recent robberies were the work of local

malefactors, Keith believed that his mere presence would be sufficient to startle them. Once recognized, any

A side door furnished the shortest route into the house. Keith tried it, doubting that the barrier would yield;

but it proved to be unlocked. The matter was explained when he crept through a darkened hallway and felt

Probing the panes with his fingers, Keith found that one had been removed with a glass cutter. By entering

the window, some invader had reached the door and unlocked it from the inside. To Keith, this smacked of

Through the hallway, Keith stopped short at sight of a flickering light that made repeated stabs in darkness

across the way. It was a flashlight, its beam showing lines of books along the walls. The room opposite was

evidently Gorham's library, a likely place for the elderly miser to keep his valuables. The light steadied;

The tone sounded like a servant's, for Keith could hear the word "sir" courteously repeated, though the voice

had an anxious note. The speech ended, the light came out from the library and moved warily toward the

front of the house. It passed beyond spread curtains, then blotted itself, as though the owner knew the route

Having gauged the distance to the library, Keith found it without trouble. Quietly closing a large door without

clicking the latch, Keith used his own flashlight to find a switch. He turned on the room lights, to stare

The few bookshelves visible through the doorway were undisturbed, but nearly all the rest had been

ransacked. Hundreds of books lay rudely stacked upon the floor. Near a corner, some shelves were empty,

On the last shelf from which books had been removed lay some tools: pliers, chisel, and screwdriver, that had

Behind the shelf was a gaping space. A metal panel, painted an oak color to match the surrounding

woodwork, had been pried from its secret hinges. Except for a few worthless papers, the hidden strong box

was empty. Whoever the recent visitor was, Keith knew that he had found Gorham's strong box and rifled it.

Judging from reports of Gorham's wealth, the loot must have exceeded a hundred thousand dollars in the

GRIMLY, Keith reached for a telephone, intending to put in a call for aid. Following that, he hoped to take

up the trail of the man who had so recently left. But Keith did not even make the phone call.

Warned by a sudden creak of the door, he dropped the telephone and wheeled about. He found himself faced

by two hardlooking men, who glared at him through masks formed by handkerchiefs.

They were armed with businesslike revolvers, that pointed in Keith's direction. One man gritted a warning in

"Lay offa the telephone, simp! It's been attended to. Come on; we're taking you with us!"

Argument was useless for the present. Hands raised, Keith placed himself in the custody of the masked men.

While one nudged him with a revolver, the other turned off the library lights. Then two guns were pressing

Keith out into the hallway; not toward the front, but in the direction of the side door.

They stopped, halfway, at sounds from the front door. The man who had taken Gorham's jewels was still

there; the noise indicated that he was clumsily trying to draw the bolts, making so much clatter that the house

"Don't move, boob," clucked a voice in Keith's ear. "You're the fall guy, get it? When the flunkies show up,

"Yeah," growled the other masked man. "Either that, or you'll take a lot of slugs from these roscoes. We're

The snarling tones carried an echo in the hallway. Oddly, the reverberations were sibilant, as though another

voice had spoken an amendment. Despite his tenseness, Keith felt a flare of hope, as though some ghostly

hand were present to aid him. He tightened, prepared to spring away; then withheld himself.

It would be better to wait until the servants arrived. Their quarters were at the rear of the third floor; perhaps

The clatter continued, somewhat as a signal, for it produced a roar of motors outside. The crooks were

certainly trying to give themselves away, now that they had a "fall guy," as they had termed Keith.

They weren't local men. Keith guessed that they had come from far afield. He was picturing them as New

Like other persons, Keith was making the mistake of classing the Wasp's workers as ordinary thugs. He

thought that he had learned something that the law ought to know; then, with sinking feeling, he foresaw

If shoved into the hands of Gorham's servants, Keith would be branded as the man in back of crime. Should

he put up a fight against his present captors, the masked pair would kill him, thus ending his chance to talk.

Nevertheless, Keith was determined to make some struggle before his time was up. The darkness was giving

him new confidence. It seemed like a shrouding shape, closing in upon Keith's captors. Perhaps it wasn't all

So suddenly that it startled Keith along with his captors, the scene was changed. A click from a light switch

The sound took place in the front hall; through the wide curtains. Keith and the men beside him viewed an

unexpected drama. The person who turned on the light was standing at the bottom of a broad stairway, facing

He had always classed the girl as a snob, never having seen her except when she was in a limousine, waiting

while her cranky father went into the Richmont post office. Here, in a more intimate setting, Ruth presented a

She was a gorgeouslooking girl, and her courage had much to do with Keith's new opinion. Ruth had heard

the sounds from the front door; she had come downstairs without calling the servants.

One slender hand pressed against the light switch, Ruth held a tiny automatic with the other. She was aiming

the gun directly toward the front door, where a masked man had turned about. He was the crook from the

THE fellow was half crouched, making it impossible to determine his height. He was wearing a dark sweater,

which made his bulk deceptive. He had a revolver, a large one, but it was only partially drawn.

Beside him, on the floor near the unlocked door, was a bulging satchel containing the loot from the library.

Seeing Ruth's face, the thief did not budge. The girl's determination impressed him. Her features were lovely,

but firm. Brown eyes gazed sternly from a visage that a sculptor would have admired; it had the mold and

whiteness of a statue's face. But Ruth's pallor did not indicate fear; quite the opposite.

Jetblack hair, streaming down upon her shoulders, formed a background that made her face look whiter than

it really was. The thrust of her chin was a better index than her pallor. Her voice had firmness, when she told

The cool, contralto tone reached Keith and his two captors. Watching Ruth, Keith was sure that she knew

nothing of the other invaders. She had just come down the stairs, for her dressing gown trailed behind her on

Beneath the gown, she was wearing pajamas that reminded Keith of gossamer. Clinging to her shapely form,

Ruth wasn't shuddering. The shimmer of her silken garb meant simply that she was tense and alert, ready to

Keith's captors recognized the girl's courage. They knew that the man at the front door was in a tough spot.

With mutual accord, they suddenly shoved Keith forward. His stumble was loud enough to reach the stairs.

The man at the front door whipped his gun upward, prepared to open fire on the girl. With a shout of

warning, Keith lunged for the lighted hallway, hoping to bring the attack in his direction.

As he sprang, he expected prompt bullets in the back. Instead, he heard a thing that outdid his own

A mighty laugh came from the darkened hall behind him, a quivering tone that seemed from the throat of a

taunting ghost. The weird challenge brought snarls from the men behind Keith; they recognized it, although

Keith heard the blast of guns as he stumbled through the curtains; but the shots were muffled. Snarls turned to

The man at the front door was turning with his gun; he had a momentary chance to shoot Keith pointblank.

Remembering the man at the door, the girl swung toward him and opened a hurried fire. The shots were wild,

but they sent the masked marauder dodging, while Keith was diving in the opposite direction to grab up a

Then, as Ruth's fire stopped, Keith saw the girl's face, its amazement profound. The girl was gazing,

largeeyed, toward the curtains through which Keith had come. Glancing in the same direction, Keith, too,

Through those curtains had come a figure in black, the ghostly conqueror who had settled Keith's captors in

the hall. Only his burning eyes were visible between the brim of his slouch hat and the upturned collar of his

From hidden lips still trailed the laugh that had startled the crooks in the darkened hall and made them turn to

attempt hopeless battle. At present, that taunting tone was meant for another mobster: the masked burglar

The Shadow, master of justice, had done more than pick Richmont as a town where major crime was due.

Arriving in the village, he had picked up the trail of crooks themselves and followed them to this mansion.

A living scourge of crime, The Shadow had begun new battle against creatures of the Wasp. Already he had

settled two of the marauders, and in so doing had saved a pair of innocent lives: those of Keith Ellerton and

THE lone bandit who had dodged to a corner was behind a massive chair, trying to get aim at The Shadow.

But it was beyond his skill, the task of stabbing shots at the elusive being in black. The crook's gun spurted at

blobs of blackness near the curtains and in alcoves. None of those blotches was The Shadow.

He was elsewhere, whirling to new positions, answering the useless shots with new taunts that seemed to

come from the very walls. Keith and Ruth saw him, for they were closer, but their glimpses came only at

intervals. They knew that The Shadow was baiting his adversary; that soon, the cloaked fighter would drive

They weren't thinking of their own plight, until The Shadow delivered a sibilant hiss to Keith. The words

were brief; he was telling Keith to get Ruth out of danger. Acting on that order, Keith sprang for the stairs, to

Ruth gave a sharp cry. The man in the corner had bobbed up from behind his chair, hoping to pick off some

human target either Keith or Ruth if he couldn't get The Shadow. Instantly, a big .45 exploded; its slug

ruined the chair back. The masked crook flattened to the floor, luckily escaping The Shadow's quick shot.

As if actuated by the report of The Shadow's gun, the big front door flung inward. Four men with masks were

on the threshold; they had come from cars parked down the driveway. They saw The Shadow, but their aim

Ready for any such invasion, The Shadow had selected the proper background the upright oblong of

blackness that marked the entrance to the rear hall. Once beyond the widespread curtains, he could snipe his

Unfortunately, The Shadow could not reach his vantage point, though the fault was not his own.

Ruth was breaking free from Keith. She wanted to aid The Shadow. With that intent, the girl was struggling

Keith had drawn her halfway up the stairs toward the second floor, when she wrenched loose; Keith found

Tripping on the steps, the pajamaclad girl somersaulted to the bottom, the slippers flying from her feet like

fragile missiles, as the empty gun left her hand and bounded on the stairs. Diving after her, Keith saw men

They were out of The Shadow's range, those gunners, though he was swooping across the hall to reach them.

The switch was right at Keith's hand. He snapped it with a quick sweep of his hand. He heard a fierce laugh

from the gloom ahead, accompanied by the burst of guns. Bullets whined past Keith's ears as he flattened; he

Ruth was safe. Keith stumbled across her gun as he rolled her behind the shelter of the stairway. Dazed by

Knowing that she would temporarily stay out of trouble, Keith grabbed the little gun, intending to use it as a

cudgel. He considered himself capable of assisting The Shadow, who was engaging in a slugfest with the

Starting forward, Keith ran into the man who had been in the corner. The fellow was grabbing up the bag of

jewels. He slashed the heavy satchel against Keith's shoulder, jostling him aside. At a snarl from the masked

robber, the others tore free from The Shadow and started through the hallway, toward the rear.

Driving in, Keith found the wrong fighter. He was grappling with one hand, slugging the little gun with the

other, when he realized that he had fallen upon The Shadow. By then, they were pitching through the front

door, and Keith gasped a recognition as The Shadow sent him headlong across the porch, where he struck

BEFORE The Shadow could turn to chase the men who had gone through the house, a car roared in from the

Before the arrivals could glimpse The Shadow as anything more than a shaded mass of blackness, he settled

the spotlight with a single shot. Guns responded wildly from the car, while a hoarse voice shouted

The voice didn't belong to any crook. It had a rustic note. Keith, up from the pillar, was blurting an

"It's the sheriff!" Keith was breathless. "They called him... so he would find me "

A flashlight bored in the direction of the porch. It showed Keith turning away, though not of his own accord.

Sight of him was half blotted by The Shadow's form. Anxious to ruin another phase of the criminalplanned

The sheriff's men were spreading; their guns began to shoot. Keith heard a lowtoned laugh from The

Shadow as they raced among the shrubbery. Other guns were talking, too. Thinking that the shots were meant

As he reached the clear, Keith heard the roar of starting motors far behind him. Then The Shadow's voice,

With that, The Shadow was gone. Keith stood emptyhanded; he had lost the little gun in his sprawl across

the porch. Realizing that Ruth must be safe by this time, he took The Shadow's advice and began a jog down

Meanwhile, The Shadow was taking a short cut of his own, toward the entrance of Gorham's driveway. He

wanted to block off the escaping crooks, which would have been an easy task, had the sheriff's men provided

But the deputies had been quite lax, as The Shadow learned when he reached the drive. The crookladen cars

were disappearing along the hill road, their taillights almost obscured by intervening trees.

Gunfire being useless, The Shadow skirted back toward the mansion, hoping to round up a few marauders

There were none. Entering the side door of the house, The Shadow found the rear hallway empty. Even

Keith's captors, the pair that The Shadow wounded, had managed to drag themselves away. Once again,

servants of the Wasp had followed their chief's main rule; that of complete departure.

Some were wounded; perhaps mortally. What would become of them was a future problem, one that might

furnish The Shadow a later trail. For the present, he decided to see how matters were in the Gorham

Men were coming from the library; they were deputies, reporting to the sheriff, who was in the front hall.

Following, The Shadow saw the sheriff talking to Ruth, who was seated in a big chair, still a bit bewildered.

From above, The Shadow could hear the excited voice of Titus Gorham. The sheriff sent a deputy up to quiet

"One of those fellows lost his mask," the sheriff told Ruth. "Maybe you saw his face, Miss Gorham."

Ruth stopped abruptly. Looking beyond Sheriff Cady, she caught the burn of keen eyes from the curtained

doorway. She recognized their glow as a command for silence. Ruth tightened her lips. The action brought a

RUTH proved herself ingenious. She looked about at the surrounding deputies; then she huddled closer in the

big chair, tucking her feet into the cushions. Glancing at her pajamas, she seemed embarrassed because her

"I'd like my dressing gown," pleaded Ruth. "I think I lost it on the stairs. Please look for it, sheriff."

Finding the dressing gown, the sheriff brought it to the girl, who draped it across her shoulders and drew it

tightly about her. Brushing wisps of hair from in front of her eyes, Ruth questioned mildly:

Cady asked about the unmasked man. Deliberately, Ruth shook her head. She spoke in a truthful tone.

As she spoke, Ruth was picturing a very frank face topped by wavy hair. She knew that she would recognize

She regarded Keith as one of her two rescuers; therefore, he was a friend, like The Shadow. As such, Keith

could not be classed as one of the robbers, so she had no trouble putting the ring of truth into her statement.

Ruth's pretense of embarrassment had convinced Sheriff Cady. So did her statement of the facts. Sketchily,

Ruth described a fray wherein a blackclad fighter had routed a large number of masked assailants. By

adding that someone had turned off the lights early in the battle, she saved herself a further

Turning to the deputies, the sheriff ordered them to scour the grounds in search of wounded crooks. The

deputies set out with flashlights and began to spread great glowing streaks amid the shrubbery.

Ahead of those streams of light moved a blackclad shape that came from the side door. Those deputies who

saw the fading blotch took it for the shadows cast by trees and bushes. It was too flitting to be identified as a

Fading from the Gorham mansion, The Shadow was seeking a new trail. Though murder had failed, thanks to

The Shadow, robbery had succeeded despite his intervention. The law's mistake in going after Keith Ellerton

Tonight, crime seemingly had paid, but its profits were still in jeopardy. Like the fruits of other evil deeds,

Sooner or later, The Shadow hoped to meet the Wasp and settle a division of those spoils. Either The Shadow

would take all and restore the wealth to rightful owners, like Gorham, or the Wasp would retain the loot that

The outcome was not The Shadow's present concern. His task was to find a sure trail to the Wasp. Oddly,

such a trail was already in the making, unknown either to The Shadow or the Wasp!

RICHMONT was a nineo'clock town; the very hour was like a curfew that called the inhabitants indoors. It

was after nine when Keith reached the main street and looked toward the little hotel, where a few lights

There was none in Glenn Torbin's window, which troubled Keith at first, until he noticed a dim glow from

Wendel's general store, with brighter lights in the office of the burgess situated directly above.

Local news was so infrequent in Richmont that all the residents were familiar with the most trivial items.

Keith remembered that Burgess Wendel had gone to Northfield to attend a birthday party, and would not be

back until late. Since Glenn expected to talk to the burgess, it was quite probable that he was waiting in

The door of the store was unlocked. Entering, Keith walked past locked counters and entered a storeroom in

the rear. There, on shelves, he viewed old stock that would probably never be sold until old Wendel died and

Old Wendel had a prejudice against bargain sales. As a result, his unsold merchandise had been called the

One shelf in the storeroom had always impressed Keith as particularly funny. It contained a row of

The lamps had huge metal bases, to contain the oil. The bases were topped by burners that screwed into them.

Above the wicks were antiquated lamp chimneys, with metal arms supporting clumsy, oversized shades.

People often jested with Wendel about those lamps, suggesting that if he rubbed them, he might find

Tonight, nothing seemed funny to Keith; not even the lamps. Warily, he stole up the stairway leading into

Wendel's office and glanced past the door, which stood a trifle ajar. He saw Glenn Torbin reading a magazine

Glenn recognized instantly that Keith was in trouble. Without the slightest ado, Keith told his story rapidly,

"So that's why the sheriff didn't come here," said Glenn, at length. "The burgess asked me to wait here for

him, so I did. Cady must have received that call from Gorham's before he left Northfield."

Keith agreed. Northfield, a larger town than Richmont, was only a few miles beyond Gorham's hill. The

sheriff could have made the trip in a mere ten minutes, by traveling at breakneck speed over the rough hill

"You're sure those crooks weren't local boys?" queried Glenn. "Chaps who might have trailed you from

"Then they must have spotted you outside," decided Glenn, "From all accounts, they had the place well

"That's probably the way it was," Keith conceded, soberly. "But who will believe such a story when I tell it?"

The telephone bell cut Glenn short. Answering the call, he found himself talking to Sheriff Cady, who gave

some of the details that Glenn had already heard from Keith, plus facts that Keith did not know about.

"It's all right for the present," declared Glenn. "You weren't recognized, Keith. The sheriff is coming down

here, to talk to the burgess when he gets back. I think your best plan is to admit that you were in the house

"You weren't," interrupted Glenn. "The sheriff would have told me. But as a policy of strict honesty, you

should tell your story. Things must have happened very rapidly up at Gorham's. According to the girl,

"Yes," replied Glenn. "The sheriff mentioned her testimony. She insisted that all the intruders were masked."

"She's shielding me!" exclaimed Keith. "There's the answer, Glenn. You're right; my story will be believed.

Things did happen fast up at Gorham's, but two of us Ruth and myself saw a lot more than the rest. The

fellow in the corner was too busy dodging The Shadow to see what happened to us. I put the lights out right

"But Ruth and I were together on the stairs. I had my arms around her, Glenn, trying to get her away to

safety. She wasn't scared a bit. You should have seen those eyes of hers, the way they looked into mine. The

"She was gorgeous, Glenn! I don't have to close my eyes to picture her. She rather liked me, too. Well

enough so she would not forget my face. Of course she said that all the crooks were masked. Ruth knew that I

FINISHING his happy outburst, Keith looked around as though hoping that the sheriff and half a dozen

deputies would enter and clamp their hands on him. He could foresee their change of face when they

summoned Ruth. Finding Keith in trouble, she would certainly give her full story and explain why she had

The hand that did fall on Keith's shoulder was Glenn's. It came as a stroke of congratulation.

"I'm glad you told me this, Keith," assured Glenn. "It puts a different light on matters. You must leave here,

"You need no vindication," interposed Glenn. "You can prove your case any time, through Ruth Gorham. But

it wouldn't be fair to make her change her testimony so soon. She has done a great thing for you, Keith. Why

The logic impressed Keith. He connected it with the policy of honesty. Ruth had been honest in her

"But suppose I should be questioned?" he said, dubiously. "The sheriff will certainly round up all the young

"That can be handled," returned Glenn. "Take my car and drive to Northfield. Leave the car in the Apex

"I can tell the sheriff that you left right after dinner, which is quite true" Glenn smiled "because that was

when you started up to Gorham's. I shall add that you went to Northfield, to take the train to New York."

"Yes. It left before the trouble started at Gorham's. Actually, you will take the midnight express. But that

particular detail" Glenn shrugged "is something that I would not have to know about."

The faint roar of approaching motors became audible as Glenn concluded. Evidently two cars were arriving,

one bringing Sheriff Cady, the other, Burgess Wendel. Hurriedly, Glenn started Keith down the stairs to a

little back door that was bolted on the inside. Glenn was talking along the way.

"It's lucky that I promised you that job," he said. "I can testify that I told you to go to New York. Here's some

cash" he thrust a wad of bills into Keith's hand "to keep you going until I arrive. Stop at the Hotel

"Certainly! Things will blow over, here in Richmont, and be forgotten. Meanwhile, you'll have a real chance

The door was open. Pushing Keith through, Glenn bolted the door behind his friend and went through the

In his turn, Keith took a roundabout course to the parking lot in back of the hotel. Climbing into Glenn's car,

Using a circling route, to avoid meeting any of the sheriff's men, Keith reached Northfield and left the car at

Buying a ticket and a berth, Keith paced the platform until the express appeared. On board the Pullman, he

THE train was pulling out, when another passenger stepped in from the corridor. He was evidently from

Keith noted the stranger quite closely, for his face was impressive. Its features were hawkish; its expression

In his turn, Keith was under a scrutiny that he did not recognize. The sequel came when Keith left the

smoking compartment. Seated alone, the hawkfaced stranger delivered a whispered laugh that Keith would

Himself a passenger to New York, The Shadow, traveling in the guise of Lamont Cranston, had come across

a most intriguing trail; that of Keith Ellerton, the unexplained factor in the robbery at Gorham's.

Whoever Keith might be, he was a person whose future would interest the Wasp, for Keith had escaped the

toils of the master crook and knew too much for his own safety. In all certainty, the Wasp had plans for him.

By coming under the menace of the Wasp, Keith had thereby gained the protection of The Shadow. Through

THREE mornings later, Keith Ellerton awoke to the tune of an alarm clock and took a pleased look around

the tiny apartment which he occupied. He had moved here the night before at the suggestion of his friend

Glenn had provided Keith with more than an apartment; he had obtained a job for him, the day before. This

morning, Keith was to report to Howard Brock, manager of the Tropical Steamship Lines. The office where

Keith would find Brock was on the sixtieth floor of the Wall Street Trust Building.

Keith was dressed and ready to leave the apartment, when he heard a ring from the lobby door. Puzzled about

how to admit a visitor, Keith went downstairs, where he found a young man pressing the button of 2B, which

The visitor looked puzzled. He pointed to the number 2B. Beside it, Keith saw a printed name cut from a

"Mr. Brann has moved," explained Keith, rather sheepishly. "I've taken the apartment that he used to have.

I'm new to the city, and I never noticed these names down here on a rack. I guess I've got a lot to learn."

The visitor smiled. Keith liked his manner; the smile was friendly. He was older than Keith, but he did not

look worldlywise. If Keith had met him in Richmont, he wouldn't have taken the chap to be a New Yorker.

Keith shook his head at the query. Frankly, he stated that he had just arrived in New York, to begin a new

job. He had one friend in town, Glenn Torbin, but no others. Hearing such details, the visitor extended his

"My name is Harry Vincent," he said. "I'm something of a stranger in New York, myself. I come from St.

Joe's County, out in Michigan, so I'm a long way from home. I guess it's the same with you."

Keith acknowledged that it was. He introduced himself, glad to make a new acquaintance. Noting that Keith

had his hat and was going out, Vincent asked him where he was bound. Keith said he was going to take the

"I don't know," confessed Keith. "I thought there was only one. I guess I'm supposed to take the first I come

Again, Keith was puzzled. He remarked that he would inquire at the restaurant when he had breakfast,

provided that he could find a restaurant to begin with. Vincent's laugh was even more friendly than his smile.

"Hop into my car," he suggested. "We'll have breakfast together, and I'll pilot you wherever you want to go."

WITHIN the next hour, Keith Ellerton came to regard Harry Vincent as a friend of the same caliber as a

longlost brother. Their introduction reminded Keith of the way people met in Richmont, were visitors often

Keith didn't guess that Harry had never heard of Dick Brann until he saw the old card on the board beside the

buzzer of Apartment 2B. Harry had simply been seeking a good wedge wherewith to make Keith's

It was true that Harry came from Michigan, but he had been in New York much longer than Keith supposed,

Harry Vincent was a secret agent of The Shadow, a veteran in such service. He had been specially detailed to

meet up with Keith Ellerton and learn all he could about the young man from Richmont.

Off to a quick start, Harry had obtained enough data for a thorough report by the time he dropped Keith at the

Wall Street Trust Building. More than that, Harry had arranged to meet Keith after five o'clock, to learn how

When Keith reached the sixtieth floor of the Wall Street Trust Building, he found his head ringing from the

long ride in the elevator. He could see only one door, and it did not mention the Tropical Steamship Lines. It

Noting persons enter, Keith followed. At an inquiry desk within, he learned that the steamship line was

managed by the Gannaford organization. A guide took him to a far door and ushered him into the office of his

A sadfaced, baldish man, Brock eyed Keith through a pair of glasses and gave a welcoming nod. Keith's job

was the sorting of folders put out by the steamship company, a task which would require perseverance rather

There were only four types of folders, and they were to be bundled in batches of a hundred each; but the

cartons in which they came occupied more than half the floor space in the office where Brock placed Keith.

When Keith had finished sorting a few thousand folders, Brock returned, his manner quite fluttery.

"Spruce up, Ellerton," he said. "We have to call on Mr. Gannaford. He wants to meet all new employees of

Brock's manner indicated that a meeting with Gannaford was a rare privilege. Keith began to understand its

importance after they had passed through the chain of sumptuous private offices leading to Gannaford's. He

was tremendously impressed when they reached their goal and saw Basil Gannaford in person.

Keith had never believed that such an office could exist, except in a movie set. He received the immediate

sensation of Gannaford's magnitude not only from the huge desk, but because the window in back of

Gannaford provided a great panorama of all Manhattan, stretched out like a carpet, laden with toylike

Stooped far across his desk, Gannaford extended a welcoming hand that carried a strong grasp. His smile was

pleasant, as he sank back to his chair; his modulated voice made Keith feel quite at ease in these titanic

"We hope you will enjoy it here," spoke Gannaford. "We have a different system of efficiency than most

organizations, Mr. Ellerton. We depend upon the individual efforts of our employees. We regard them as our

"Mr. Brock has reported that your recommendations are quite in order and indicate that you are the type of

man who will rise in importance, while you remain with us. Since such a future will be to our mutual

Gannaford leaned forward to deliver another handshake, indicating that the interview was ended. Keith felt

the power of appraising eyes, that seemed to watch him, even when he had turned away with Brock. He was

Keith's job had taken on a new importance. It was the steppingstone to success. Gannaford had so indicated,

in words that left no space for doubt. Keith's thrill at being in New York had increased threefold.

Beginning with Glenn Torbin as a friend, he had gained Harry Vincent as another. He regarded Basil

Gannaford as a third; a man whose friendship could prove powerful as well as genuine.

BY half past five, Keith was back in his apartment. He found a note from Glenn, asking him to stop over and

see him. Keith waited, hoping that Harry would arrive. Soon, Harry did, and Keith insisted that he come

They reached Glenn's apartment, a much larger one than Keith's, which was quite natural, considering that

Glenn rated as the manager of a travel bureau. Shaking hands with Harry, Glenn heard Keith's story of how

To Glenn's eyes, Harry Vincent looked like a smalltowner lately arrived in New York, which was the very

impression The Shadow's agent was trying to create. Therefore, it followed that Harry was the sort of

acquaintance that Glenn wanted Keith to choose. Mixing cocktails in a large shaker, Glenn suggested that

They were about to leave the apartment, when a messenger knocked at the door, bringing an envelope that

bore the name of the travel bureau where Glenn worked. Opening the envelope, Glenn scanned the message;

Watching Glenn intently, Harry noticed a perceptible change in the sleek man's expression, something that

"I'll have to stop over at the bureau," said Glenn. "Suppose you fellows go ahead. Show Keith something of

Glenn took a taxicab, while Keith and Harry were getting into the latter's car. They had started in the

direction of Central Park, when Harry noted that Keith was plucking something from his coat sleeve.

"I saw it drop from Glenn's envelope," replied Keith. "It looks like the wing of a hornet." He held the tiny

Indifferently Keith let the transparent token flutter from the window as something of only passing interest.

But to Harry, Keith's discovery was of the utmost consequence. It proved a truth that Harry had begun to

Glenn Torbin, the "friend" who had brought Keith Ellerton to New York, was a worker for the Wasp, that

To Glenn Torbin, the message that contained the wasp wing was something of a jolt. Like George Ambril,

Glenn had received a summons to meet his insidious chief. To Ambril, the note had seemed a death warrant,

To Glenn Torbin, the threat was not so great, yet it smacked of ill. This was the first time that he had ever

visited the Wasp. Suite 810, at the Hotel Trentine, promised to hold much in store for him; much that might

Dusk filled the suite when Glenn entered it. The sleek young man lost his poise, as he advanced to the inner

door. Face to face with the Wasp, he halted. Like Ambril, Glenn wanted to recoil from the waspish creature

The Wasp buzzed words in the tone that Glenn had often heard over the telephone, but the buzz was sharper,

"You had instructions," spoke the Wasp. "You failed to follow them, at Richmont. Others did their proper

"I framed Ellerton," explained Glenn, "exactly as I planned it. The others trapped him while I was getting

"Except for the Shadow!" The Wasp spoke with venom. "I have heard enough of The Shadow! I refuse to

Thrusting a long hand forward, the Wasp clamped it on Glenn's shoulder. Like Ambril, Glenn felt a sharp

sting. Slatted light from the Venetian blinds showed the Wasp's mouth, wide in an ugly leer that revealed a

Recoiling, Glenn voiced a plea, hoping to withhold the Wasp's command for servitors who would destroy his

"It wasn't The Shadow!" Glenn's tone was ardent. "We managed to get clear of him. I got back to my car with

the loot; the others made their getaway. There was something else that spoiled the frameup; something that

The Wasp paused to listen. Weakly, Glenn explained how Ruth Gorham had testified in Keith's behalf, by not

mentioning his presence at the house. As Glenn talked, the Wasp's evil eyes glittered. He was catching the

"Ellerton never suspected me," declared Glenn. "He was ready to do anything I told him, and still is. But I

couldn't let him give himself up, not while the girl was still around to clear him. I took the only out, sending

"They're still baffled, out in Richmont. The swag is right where we can collect it, any time. If we can put

Keith Ellerton through the mill the way that I " Glenn caught himself; then added: "the way that others went

The Wasp was stepping to the window. Glenn saw him rest his grotesque chin in a thin cupped hand. Long

fingers, moving like crawly things, had the appearance of a beard in the increasing gloom. Those fingers

"You are right," commended the Wasp, in his harsh buzz. "We can reverse our usual policy with Ellerton.

When he has played a part in crime, he can be sacrificed to the law, instead of belonging to our organization.

GLENN became gleeful, now that he shared the full confidence of the Wasp. He explained that he had placed

Keith with the Tropical Steamship Lines, through the manager, Howard Brock. The travel bureau where

Glenn worked had done some important favors for Tropical, and Brock had granted Glenn's request for a job

"It's a new corporation," explained Glenn. "A combine arranged by Basil Gannaford."

The Wasp's eyes took on a sharp glow. Evidently, he had heard of Basil Gannaford. Glenn would have

understood more, had he known that one of the Wasp's recent crimes, the attempted theft of Warrendon's

options, had involved Consolidation Metals, another company under Gannaford's control.

"Ellerton could hardly help us," he said. "I was thinking of a way to reach Gannaford and deprive him of

some surplus wealth. But a new man like Ellerton could have no contact with Gannaford, himself."

Glenn remembered something that Keith had told him. He stated that Keith had actually met Gannaford; that

the bigwig had instituted a new system of meeting all new employees. The information pleased the Wasp.

"All this can prove profitable," he decided. "In snaring Ellerton, we can use him as a tool against Gannaford.

As for the testimony of Ruth Gorham, there is another way in which we can suppress it entirely, should

Glenn hoped that the Wasp would continue with his theme. The Wasp did, but from a different standpoint. He

concentrated entirely upon Keith's weaknesses, asking Glenn many pointed questions.

During the conversation, Glenn made mention of Keith's new acquaintance, Harry Vincent. In Glenn's

estimate, Harry was another "hick," like Keith, but with a trifle more experience in the ways of city life.

The Wasp decided that the two made a perfect team. From Glenn's details, he analyzed Keith as a young man

with two weaknesses. Keith trusted friends almost on sight, as in the cases of Glenn and Harry. He also could

succumb to a woman's wiles, judging from the way he had changed his opinion of Ruth Gorham.

As he had done with Ambril, the Wasp clapped a stingless hand upon Glenn's shoulder, while conducting his

visitor to the outer door. But when Glenn had gone, the Wasp made no efforts to keep check upon him.

Instead, the thinbodied crime master indulged in a satisfied chuckle. Glenn Torbin was thereby certified as a

On his way to the Hotel Metrolite, Glenn proved that worth. He calculated the factors in the case of Keith

Ellerton, and thought of them in specialized terms. Usually, the Wasp picked prospects who were easily

induced to take up crime. This did not apply to Keith. He was honest, which made Glenn secretly detest him.

Furthermore, he was to be framed, as originally intended. Putting him in a jam, then offering him a way out

by serving the Wasp, would not apply in Keith's case. It had worked with Glenn and many others, but it

wouldn't do with Keith. The Wasp had mentioned a reverse twist, in this instance, and Glenn was trying to

Dining with Keith and Harry, Glenn found himself bothered by the problem, only to learn that his effort was

wasted. As they were finishing dinner, an attendant informed Glenn that his office wanted him on the

telephone. When he reached the booth and spoke across the wire, he heard the buzz of the Wasp.

The master of secret lures had solved the entire situation. Glenn had merely to turn the proposition over to the

proper hands, and they would do the rest. After repeating the Wasp's verbal instructions, Glenn returned to

"I'll have to run over to Club Sixtysix," he said, in an annoyed tone. "The manager, Ken Dallas, wants to

book some talent for a cruise. He insists on seeing me, although I've told him it's no use. So I'll have to leave

you, unless" Glenn looked from Harry to Keith "you'd like to get a brief glimpse of Manhattan night life."

ON the way to Club Sixtysix, Glenn explained that the place was a clip joint, but that neither need be

When they reached the place, Keith was impressed by its glitter, but Harry promptly recognized it as an

allnight speakeasy that attracted throngs after the usual closing hours. Club Sixtysix occupied a basement

Glenn introduced his friends to Ken Dallas, a burly man who wore a tuxedo and had a manner which Keith

Since he wanted to talk business with Glenn, the proprietor suggested that the others take a table and have

some drinks on the house. As an added favor, Dallas conducted Keith and Harry to a table where two persons

One was a man named Jack Prenter, just back from Cleveland. Keith liked Prenter on sight, for the fellow's

manner was pleasant. The other customer intrigued him even more, being of the feminine variety. She was an

attractive blonde, and Dallas introduced her as Velma Corl. Soon after all were seated and having their first

"Sorry, fellows," he told Keith and Harry. "I'll have to go back to the office. Stay here if you want, and leave

Glenn grinned as he left. He had followed the Wasp's instructions. The victims were in the proper hands.

Dallas, Prenter, Velma, all were workers for the Wasp, fully instructed in the coming scheme. It didn't occur

to Glenn that in smoothing matters for the Wasp, he had likewise paved a way for The Shadow.

The man who knew that fact was Harry Vincent. He had recognized Jack Prenter by name, and Velma Corl

by description. Prenter was the man who had taken Ambril's car and aided in crime at Richmont. Velma, the

fluffyhaired blonde, was obviously the woman who had disposed of evidence at Ambril's apartment, and

It was a dangerous game, mixing with this pair; one that Harry Vincent would have dropped, had he been

entirely on his own. But Harry was working under auspices that would prevent ill consequences both for

Harry was serving The Shadow; and so, in a sense, was Keith. The farther they advanced into the toils of the

CRIME was at a standstill, not only in New York, but elsewhere. The newspapers were favoring the public

with an explanation which was correct, to a degree. Crime had stumbled twice, although it had not failed

The raid at Warrendon's was one instance. There, crooks had escaped with their skins, but with no monetary

profit. Again, crime had been balked in Richmont. Evildoers had gotten Gorham's gems, but had paid a heavy

Sheriff Cady and his deputies had found two mutilated bodies in an old quarry not far from Richmont. The

dead men were evidently members of the masked band that had fled the Gorham mansion. They had died in

transit, and their pals had disposed of them, after disfiguring their corpses beyond recognition.

However, accounts of crime lacked all mention of the two leading factors, The Shadow and the Wasp, rivals

in the recent strife. Their struggle still continued deep beneath the lulled surface.

Clippings, report sheets, other data enabled The Shadow to size the Wasp's game thoroughly. It was plain

how crime's new overlord worked. There were dozens of hidden workers in his organization. Scouts, sent to

distant towns, picked out restless young men and brought them to town with promises of jobs. Once

The method was to saddle them with debts, or to involve them in some crooked task. To hold the legitimate

jobs which they had obtained, the young men listened to the buzz of the Wasp and became accomplished

workers in his criminal games. Sometimes they slipped, as George Ambril had when he incurred extra debts

It was quite evident that these imported crooks later graduated into roving workers like Glenn Torbin, who

had done the crimes in Richmont, or Jack Prenter, who had been with the coverup crew that The Shadow

battled at the Gorham mansion. But there was something even more insidious behind the schemes of the

Young men, like Keith Ellerton, were framed at will, and at this very moment The Shadow could list names

of those who had gone to jail, branded for crimes in which they played no part. The only way to release these

innocent victims from prison was to uncover the Wasp and expose his machinations.

Along with profits from many crimes, the Wasp doubtless held the real evidence of such frameups, for he

would need it as a whiplash over his own workers. Thus, The Shadow preferred to avoid combat with the

Wasp's tribe, for the present. Instead, he wanted to ferret out the Wasp, in person.

Such opportunity seemed at hand. While the Wasp was holding his masked mobs in abeyance, to lull both

The Shadow and the law, another game was in process. Through his most competent workers, Velma Corl

and Jack Prenter, the Wasp was enmeshing Keith Ellerton in a web that would incriminate him in the

All this reached The Shadow through reports from Harry Vincent, who was playing the part of dupe, along

The base of present operations was Club Sixtysix. Ken Dallas, notorious proprietor of the dive, was

obviously on the Wasp's pay roll. Like others, he might, or might not, be in direct communication with the

Wasp. The Shadow preferred to ignore the Wasp's workers themselves, for past experience had proven that

Waiting to learn the answer, The Shadow was prepared to follow along, silent and invisible, whenever the

NEARLY a week had passed since Keith and Harry had begun to see New York together. Every night had

found them at Club Sixtysix. They were getting thick with Velma and Prenter, and they had already run up

debts. It was the old game of getting the dupes in deep. But it wasn't working fast enough to suit The Shadow.

Tonight, Keith and Harry had gone to the night spot again. It might be that this evening would bring a hurry

call from Harry, summoning The Shadow. But, meanwhile, the police, spared the task of battling major

Legitimate complaints had been coming through, that such spots were the breeding places of crime. Chances

were that Club Sixtysix would not be touched for a while, for it was being skillfully managed by Ken

That was the reason why Lamont Cranston strolled into the Cobalt Club a while after midnight, to chat with

"So you are keeping late hours, too," spoke Weston, in a patronizing tone. "I hope, Cranston, that you do not

"I might," was Cranston's reply. "It would be a good way to meet you, commissioner. I understand that you

Weston appreciated the jest. He had been conducting most of the raids in person, although Inspector Cardona

had been doing most of the heavy work. Privately, The Shadow believed that Weston liked to hear the crash

of bottles and the splintering of mahogany bars when his squads demolished the streamlined speakeasies.

"We've been knocking them over, Cranston," boasted Weston, "and tonight will be the greatest coup of all! In

a short while" he glanced at his watch "I must join inspector Cardona. We intend to raid a place called

The statement struck like a thunderbolt. Why Weston had picked the Wasp's prize pet so early in the game

was actually a mystery to The Shadow. There was only one way to solve the riddle. In Cranston's most casual

"Better than a complaint," he replied. "We have received a tipoff, and a most reliable one."

From his pocket, the commissioner produced a folded paper. It was quite thick and it bore a typewritten

statement, to the effect that Club Sixtysix was the worst of illegal night clubs and should be raided at once.

"Flimsy evidence," he said. "I wouldn't give much attention to an anonymous communication,

"Nor would I," clucked Weston. "But this note happens to be signed. Observe its thickness, Cranston. It made

Weston paused to demonstrate. The Shadow saw plainly that the sheet was not of twoply structure. But the

same light which showed the paper ordinary, did something else. It heated the paper and caused brownish

letters to appear, in the form of a signature which had been written in invisible ink.

Cranston's eyes became fixed in an expression that Weston took for astonishment. The mysterious signature

Of all persons, one could certainly testify that the signature was a fraud. That person was Lamont Cranston.

Actually The Shadow, Cranston knew that this forgery must be the work of the Wasp. But it was impossible

for The Shadow to convince Commissioner Weston of the fact, without revealing his own identity.

In Cranston's casual style, The Shadow congratulated the commissioner upon having so cleverly discovered

the signature, though he knew that the Wasp had foreseen that such would happen.

Since it was almost time for Weston's meeting with Cardona, Cranston decided to go home. But when he

reached his limousine, outside the Cobalt Club, he immediately became The Shadow.

WORK lay ahead for The Shadow. Proof of it was present at Club Sixtysix, where Ken Dallas, the

hardboiled proprietor, was drawing some toughfaced waiters to one side. Before speaking to his husky

bouncers, Dallas cast a practiced eye along the bar, where customers were lined up three deep.

Beyond, Dallas saw tables filled with other patrons, who preferred the portion of the club that was called the

"lounge." The lounge had walls made of large mirrors, that made it appear huge in size, though it was

Keith and Harry were there with Velma and Prenter; they had come early to get a place before the club filled,

Velma had brought along a camera with an automatic flash and was taking pictures of funny scenes about

Club Sixtysix, much to the amusement of her companions. Dallas caught the blonde's eye and gave a nod,

"The blowoff is coming," Dallas confided. "The police commissioner got a tip that this joint was phony. It

was all in a letter sent him by the Wasp." Dallas paused, noted the surprised looks of his men; then added:

Surprised looks changed to grins. Still, the huskies couldn't quite understand the matter, until Dallas

explained that the hot spots had been having too much trouble lately. The Wasp, with his usual craft, had

"This dump is through, anyway," said Dallas. "Rather than have the bulls bust in at the wrong time, the Wasp

is using them to help a special job that's being done for him. Never mind what the job is. You fellows have

"The cops are due soon" Dallas looked toward a clock "and they're going to get plenty, without knowing

that it came from us. The barkeeps have been spiking the drinks heavy; most of those simps at the bar are

"Get down to the other end, all of you, and start shoving hard when the raid hits. Head the herd for the door,

and they'll stampede. Start shooting, and plant the roscoes on the dopes; then shove your dukes up and let the

By the time the waiters had rounded the massed crowd at the bar, Dallas was turning in response to a rap

from the main door. He opened a peephole, looked through at an eye on the outside. The eye winked, and

The man outside was the lookout. He had let the police capture him. The wink meant that they were right

behind him, ordering him to give the countersign that would give them entry into Club Sixtysix. Coolly,

Plans were perfect. New victory was scheduled for the Wasp, at the expense of The Shadow. Such seemed

THE stout door to Club Sixtysix lashed inward under the shouldering drive of four burly plainclothes men.

The barrier slammed Ken Dallas before he could get clear, and sent him flying to a corner at the near end of

the bar, where he sank back with a halfgenuine groan, jolted, but not badly hurt. Dallas was right where he

Before the detectives were far past the threshold, the rush began. Shoved by the waiters, customers at the far

end of the bar put pressure upon those nearest the door. There were shouts to stop the men who were coming

Not recognizing that the invaders were police for that matter, not caring the drinkroused customers of

Club Sixtysix grabbed improvised weapons and surged to the attack. The handiest things were bottles that

stood along the bar, placed there in plenty by order of Ken Dallas. Thus armed, two dozen men were out to

Hurling their reeling antagonists aside, the detectives were hewing into the night club, when guns began to

talk from deep in the milling crowd. To all appearances, those shots were supplied by the angered customers.

The first shots were wide; the detectives dropped back, to take aim on their own, the worst thing that they

Teeming faces were their only targets. It meant that if the detectives fired, they would kill mere brawlers, not

actual gunners. Meanwhile, cool marksmen Ken's bouncers intended to chop down the hated detectives

The detectives never opened fire. In from the entry behind them came a human whirlwind, a figure that had

the power of a twister and the same color. Cloaked in black, The Shadow was scarcely visible against the

yawning darkness of the door. He was swinging his fists hard and wide; gloved fists, that carried automatics

Under his onslaught, the headquarters men went sprawling, scattered. They landed as Dallas had when the

door hit him. Of the four, three lost their guns temporarily; the last man was too dazed to use the weapon that

Out of the howling mass that still surged forward came raucous shouts of recognition:

Ken's bouncers couldn't get The Shadow. They no longer had him as a target. Divining what was under way,

basing his guess on the fact that the Wasp, himself, had planned this raid, The Shadow chose a shelter that

shielded him from every gun. Keeping low as he drove, he lunged straight into the mass of customers, who

The whole swirl heaved like a bowl of porridge stirred by a big spoon. Men were swinging bottles at a head

Drunken brawlers were bashing one another, instead of The Shadow, whose fierce, mocking laugh, issuing

from their very midst, encouraged them to wilder tactics that resulted in more of their selfdevastation.

The Shadow was hewing a path to the men he wanted, those gunners who were still trying to spy him. The

path that he cut remained, for the patrons who hit the floor were too groggy to get up again.

Back by the door, the plainclothes men were coming to their feet, regaining their guns, as another wave

joined them. Blueclad patrolmen were arriving, to view the dizzy mass of brawlers spread along the floor.

A loud voice bawled orders. Inspector Cardona had come into the place with the bluecoats. Behind the surge

was Commissioner Weston. He didn't know, at first, why Joe Cardona had shouted; then the picture cleared.

At the far end of the long bar, near the steps that led up to the lounge, Weston saw the cloaked figure of The

Shadow whipping suddenly from the clutch of two sagging drunks, to fling himself upon a batch of armed

The Shadow had found the real troublemakers, exposing them so suddenly that they had neither time to aim

Alarmed by resounding mirth that shuddered in their very ears, the balked assassins turned to dodge the

With a sweeping dodge, The Shadow went beyond his foemen, bringing them about with elated shouts, for

they thought they had him on the run. But before they could aim their revolvers, they learned that the shift

Police guns barked, Cardona spouting the order for a general fire. The Shadow was beyond his foemen,

leaving them as targets for the law. Detectives and patrolmen had an open path of fire above the heads of the

crawling customers, most of whom were interested only in salvaging the remaining contents of bottles broken

SEEKING sure shelter where stray police shots would not reach him, The Shadow reached the top step of the

short flight leading to the lounge. Turning as he arrived there, he was prepared to drop any lucky adversary

The menace lay in the lounge itself, a thing that The Shadow had foreseen, for he didn't stop his momentary

turn in the direction of the waiters, but completed a full pivot, with both guns at aiming level.

The shouts were from Keith and Harry; similar warnings were voiced by a few chance patrons in the lounge,

men who happened to consider The Shadow a friend. They were trying to tell The Shadow what the others

were about. Velma and Prenter were not the only workers that the Wasp had placed in this vantage spot.

At least five guns were aiming in The Shadow's direction. Two were pointing from a corner, as the cloaked

fighter swung that way, stumbling as his foot hooked a chair. Out of that falter, The Shadow held an

Thinking that he was sprawling, guns and all, the marksmen steadied to deliver sure shots. Before they pulled

the triggers, The Shadow spun himself upright with a wide kick, that scaled the chair ahead of him.

Dodging the flying missile, a pair of sleek gunners fired wide. Knowing that The Shadow could aim before

In another corner, Harry Vincent was wresting a gun from a snarling man who looked the part of a rat,

despite his tuxedo attire. Punching the fellow, Harry turned to see how The Shadow was faring. In the

foreground was Keith, disputing with Prenter for possession of another revolver.

By then, police were driving through. Velma had reached a corner where there was a light switch, set in a

frame that held a huge mirror. She pressed the switch, extinguishing the lights in the lounge and producing a

vague dimness, which proved more to the advantage of The Shadow than that of the opposition.

There was still enough light from the front of Club Sixtysix to show rats scurrying for cover though The

Harry made out Keith beside a table. A bit bewildered, Keith was aiming the gun that he had captured from

Prenter. At present, the only possible targets were policemen, blundering up the steps. Harry shouted for

Before Keith could respond, there was a puff of light from Velma's corner. The blonde was taking another

candidcamera shot, despite all the excitement. Harry heard her call quickly to the others. As Keith chucked

his gun, two men fell upon him: Prenter and the fellow that Harry had punched in the corner.

With The Shadow elsewhere, searching for crooks in the darkness, it became Harry's task to prevent Keith's

capture. Since they had both shown their hands, it seemed to Harry that he and Keith would be due for

Harry wasn't concerned about himself; he had fought through many tough situations, with The Shadow's aid.

Flinging himself to the rescue, Harry arrived just as Keith sagged from a punch that Prenter gave him.

Another camera bulb flashed, giving a brilliant glimpse of Harry as he pulled Keith from the clutching hands.

THE thing that followed gave Harry Vincent two seconds of absolute amazement. Harry was actually

shoving Keith into The Shadow's clutch, when he saw Prenter come lunging in, despite The Shadow. A

gloved hand made a backward swing, a stroke that should have brushed Prenter aside like a troublesome

Instead, it landed hard against Harry's jaw. With that blow, Harry learned why The Shadow's enemies went

down so suddenly when they received a gunweighted punch. But Harry did not think about the matter for

Strange enough was The Shadow's failure to rescue Keith; but the amazing accident whereby he had slugged

Harry into submission was even more outlandish. Instead of rescue, The Shadow had turned over a pair of

As The Shadow wheeled away in search of foemen that he could not seem to find, Prenter and others

The police were shooting in the darkness, commanding crooks to toss away their guns. Clattering glass was

echoing from all directions, for the bullets splintered the mirrors. Reaching the darkened scene, Cardona

Except for a few puzzled patrons who had tried to help The Shadow, the lounge was empty. Velma, Prenter,

Looking about, Cardona caught a glimpse of The Shadow leaving the front door of Club Sixtysix, through

Commissioner Weston had come through the door. He was rubbing his chin, for Dallas had given him a

punch in passing. Weston hadn't seen The Shadow when the cloaked fighter took the same route.

The police hadn't identified any of the people in the lounge, but Cardona saw that the place was no longer

Looking at the broken mirrors, Cardona saw something in the corner by the light switch, and approached.

One mirror had been a door; its glass facing gone, the barrier revealed a hidden catch that the mirror had

It made a trick panel, bolted from the other side. A few bullets from Cardona's revolver settled the catch. He

and his men pushed through to a passage, where another barrier blocked them. By then, Cardona conceded

Half a block from Club Sixtysix, The Shadow was watching the flight of two cars that had pulled away from

an alley in back of the raided premises. He caught a glimpse of a blond head at a car window, knew that

The Shadow made no effort to stop the flight; he seemed quite disinterested in the fate of Harry and Keith. In

fact, The Shadow's only indication of his presence was a whispered laugh, heard by himself alone, as he

FACTS were drilling through Harry Vincent's brain, along with throbbing aches, as he propped himself up on

a couch and stared at Keith Ellerton, who was slumped in a chair. It was morning; they were no longer

"I made a fool of myself, last night," groaned Keith. "Grabbing that gun from Prenter and starting places with

it! No wonder Jack grabbed me! He had sense enough to get rid of the gun before it made trouble for him. He

Despite his headache, Harry became alert. What a perfect dupe Keith was! The fellow still believed that Jack

Prenter was a friend. On the point of setting Keith right, Harry suddenly refrained. When it came to folly,

It was Harry's part to play the dupe, along with Keith. Their actions last night had not classed them as persons

leagued with The Shadow. In jumping on persons with guns, Harry and Keith had done the natural thing.

The raid at Club Sixtysix had been instigated by the Wasp, a fact which Harry had not understood at the

As a new friend of Keith's, Harry was slated for the same medicine. The Wasp still regarded them as babes in

Something more was due, however. What it was, Harry could not guess, but it would come from the Wasp.

Probably very soon, because it was nearly time for Keith to start to the office, and he was in no condition to

Rising, Harry walked to the window and looked out. He saw a cab stop in front of the apartment house; from

Harry turned to Keith. He wanted to tell his friend to brace himself for coming trouble; but again, Harry

When the apartment bell rang, he answered it, and admitted the visitors in a manner of surprise, which he

followed with a greeting. Keith, too, seemed grateful that their friends had arrived. He thanked Prenter for

"Thank Vincent," said Prenter suavely, with a sharp glance at Harry. Then: "How do you feel, Vincent?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I didn't like the way I was getting pushed around last night. I thought you

Prenter looked at Velma as though the comment pleased him. Ignoring Harry, Prenter spoke to Keith. From

"I called your friend Torbin," he told Keith. "Said that you'd gotten yourself in a jam. He said that he'd call

"He'll be over here, later," continued Prenter, his tone hardening. "You two will have a lot to talk about, and

you'll need your friend Vincent in the conference. You're in more of a jam than you think, Ellerton."

By then, Keith was astonished at Prenter's tone. His eyes went wider, when Prenter produced a photograph

and showed it to him. The picture was an enlargement of the one that Velma had taken during the crucial

Unfortunately, it did not portray the mirror exit which Velma herself had opened as a route for flight. The

picture had been snapped from that very quarter, the camera focused toward the front of the night club.

Keith occupied the center of the photo, and in his hand was the revolver that he had so unwisely grabbed.

Beyond him were a pair of officers, stumbling up the steps to the lounge, and the muzzle of Keith's gun was

"A picture like this is worth money," asserted Prenter, blandly. "A tabloid newspaper would pay plenty to get

THERE was an interruption, from Keith. The lad from Richmont had changed countenance. His face showed

understanding, even more than Harry's. As Keith broke loose, The Shadow's agent decided to play dumb.

"Blackmail!" blurted Keith. He flashed an outraged look from Prenter to Velma, and back. "Why, you... you

"Crooks," supplied Prenter, in an acid tone. "We don't mind admitting it, Ellerton. We've made a specialty of

Keith's answer was to snatch the photograph from Prenter and tear it to shreds. With a laugh, Prenter stated:

"We still have the negative, Ellerton. We thought we ought to place it in trustworthy hands, so we sent it to an

Indignation faded from Keith's face, to be replaced by horror. Harry stared, covering his rapid thoughts by a

show of dumbness. Though Prenter and Velma pretended to be working on their own, Harry knew that they

How the master crook intended to collect through Gannaford, was a puzzle; but Harry was beginning to catch

"Don't worry, Ellerton," Prenter sneered. "You still have a chance to get out of your jam, and if Vincent is the

good sport he claims to be, he will help you. We sent the negative to Gannaford's home in a registered

"We happen to know the combination of the safe, because it is our business to find out such things. We have

also learned that Gannaford will not be home until late in the evening. It will be quite easy for you to go

"But there are other things in that safe that we want. Some giltedged bonds, perhaps some cash. If you bring

along whatever looks good and deliver it to us, we'll keep what we can peddle and send the rest back to

Gannaford. Your share" Prenter wore a smirk "will be the package that contains your precious negative."

Prenter was shoving his face toward Keith. On impulse, Keith doubled his fist and drove it against his

taunter's jaw. Prenter carried a table backward with him, but came rapidly to his feet, only to find both Keith

and Harry lined up against him. With a scowl, Prenter sidled to the door, Velma following him.

On the threshold, Prenter tried to speak, but couldn't. He rubbed his jaw as he wiggled it sideways, to find it

"You heard what Jack said," reminded Velma, sweetly. "The offer still stands. Here is the combination"

with gloved fingers, she produced a slip of paper from her handbag "and I advise you not to tear it up until

Outside, Prenter and Velma stepped into Moe Shrevnitz's cab, which had been parked in front of Keith's

apartment house ever since dawn. As they rode away, Moe heard their conversation, because the cab was

"Take the next plane to Northfield," Prenter told Velma. "You'll find my car in the Apex Garage there. You

"I know the rest," interrupted Velma, briskly. "I've heard from the Wasp, too. Handling that end of the game

"I'll meet you at the Tuxedo Club, the new joint that Ken Dallas has taken over. Stay in the back room, Jack,

until I show up. Better get there early, because I won't waste time in Richmont."

AFTER the pair left Moe's cab, the shrewd hackie went for the nearest telephone booth, where he called

Burbank, The Shadow's contact man, and put in a report of all that he had overheard.

Burbank, whose voice was always methodical, accepted the report in routine fashion. He had already heard

Making a call from Keith's apartment had been simple for Harry, because Keith had gone for a walk around

the block. His call made, Harry sat alone, considering the facts. Basically, Keith's trip to Gannaford's would

The Wasp was ever thoughtful of the future. His lesser workers, sneaks by profession, were obviously planted

as servants, to acquire things like duplicate keys and learn safe combinations. After such informants were in

the clear, the Wasp turned over actual robberies to men like Ambril, Prenter or even Glenn Torbin.

Tonight's proposition, however, had a different touch. The Wasp had not enlisted Keith Ellerton. Indeed,

Keith had never even heard of the Wasp. From what The Shadow had told him, Harry knew that the Wasp

intended to frame Keith Ellerton. There would be an odd twist to this business before it finished.

The twist began while Harry was still pondering. The door of the apartment opened and Keith came in,

accompanied by Glenn. The two had met outside, and Glenn seemed quite upset because of the phone call

that he had received from Prenter, earlier. Seeing Harry, Glenn began to chide him, too.

"I hadn't any idea that you fellows were frequenting Club Sixtysix," asserted Glenn. "I was sorry that Dallas

introduced you to Prenter and that blonde, whatever her name is. But Prenter appears to be a decent sort after

Listening, Glenn let his face show fake amazement. He shook his head, as though he could not believe

Keith's story of the blackmail proposition, until Harry corroborated all that Keith had said.

"You're both in it," decided Glenn, grimly. "You've got to be gotten out. There's only one way. I'll have to go

to Gannaford's and get that package with the negative. Give me that paper with the combination, Keith. I'll do

"No, no, Glenn!" exclaimed Keith. "I can't let you commit robbery on my account."

"It won't be robbery," argued Glenn. "It's simply a case of recovering stolen property. The thing to do is take

the package that contains the negative, but leave everything else where it belongs. The package is really

Glenn's accent on the word "yours" was cleverly managed. Harry foresaw what Keith's response would be.

"It's mine, all right," asserted Keith, "so it's my job to get it. You're out of this, Glenn."

"But someone will have to be with you," Glenn insisted. "Someone outside of Gannaford's, with a car."

"Harry will handle that part," assured Keith. He swung to The Shadow's agent: "Won't you, Harry?"

Harry nodded. It was the only thing to do. Glenn had forced the issue perfectly. It was much like the case at

Gorham's, though Keith did not recognize it. The play on Harry's loyalty, based on the fact that he and Keith

Solemnly, Glenn Torbin shook hands with both and left for his office, keeping his smug smile to himself until

he was out of sight. Glenn felt that in steering Harry into crime, along with Keith, he was performing an

As yet, Glenn had no idea that Harry was an agent of The Shadow. As a server of the Wasp, Glenn was

balking his own efforts, by choosing such a running mate for Keith. Coming events could bring more than the

Wasp expected. If lesser matters took unexpected turns, the stage would be clear for a titanic struggle.

AT the wheel of a smoothrunning roadster, Velma Corl was taking the hills that led from Northfield, in the

direction of Richmont. It was early afternoon, and her schedule allowed time for the various things that she

Reaching the entrance to the Gorham estate, Velma swung the car between stone gates and slackened speed

as she heard a car behind her. Through the trees, Velma saw the other car roll by without the slightest pause.

Out on the road, the other car stopped some distance down the slope. Picking a turning spot, its driver

retraced his course. Once inside the gates, he left the driveway and parked the car on hard ground, beneath

No one saw the prowling man. If they had, they would have recognized him. He had been in Richmont ever

since the Gorham robbery. He was a newspaper reporter named Clyde Burke, who represented the New York

Evidently The Shadow had foreseen some angle like the present one, for he had ordered Clyde to stay in

It had been tough, impressing the editor of the Classic that the stay was worthwhile; but Clyde rated well

enough to do it. Frequently, he had scored beats under the very noses of rival reporters, and Clyde had

Sneaking up to the Gorham house was no longer difficult, even in broad daylight, for the place was quite

unguarded, now that it contained nothing that thugs would care to steal. Moving from bush to bush, Clyde

reach the veranda. Crouched low, he looked through an opened French window and saw Velma Corl in the

Soon, Ruth Gorham appeared. A servant had informed her of the visitor, and Ruth, though cordial, was

They took chairs near the veranda door, and Clyde immediately found himself contrasting the merits of Ruth,

The average viewer would have classed Ruth as the wiser. Her solemn gaze was probing, whereas Velma

seemed a creature of babelike innocence. But Ruth's whole pose was honest, while Velma's was a sham. The

problem was that Ruth, through her sheer honesty, failed to detect the craft beneath her visitor's pose.

"I have few friends in New York," Ruth was saying. "I am interested to learn who sent you here, Miss Corl."

"No one asked me to come," replied Velma. "It was my own idea, to help Keith Ellerton."

"Yes. Keith comes from Richmont. He told me that he met you here" Velma lowered her tone "on the

Understanding dawned on Ruth, but she compressed her lips and said nothing, until Velma produced a

photograph. It was a picture that she had taken at Club Sixtysix while all was gay there, prior to the raid.

"Why, yes," she began. "I remember Mr. Ellerton." Pausing, she added: "But I am not sure where I met him."

"You're a darling," she told Ruth. "But I know the whole story. Keith told it to me, in confidence, and that's

DETAIL for detail, Velma described occurrences of the eventful night at the mansion, which Ruth accepted

as absolute proof. It never struck her that Velma could have learned the whole story from Glenn Torbin, a

pretended friend of Keith's, who had been the masked robber responsible for the entire trouble.

Velma's naive manner, her collection of photographs which included one showing her with Keith were

quite enough. Velma was glad that she had brought the extra picture, one that Prenter had taken during the

"Yes," replied Velma. "It's not his own fault, though. We were at Club Sixtysix when the police raided it.

There was some shooting at the place, and the police are trying to find all the witnesses. When they quiz

"The New York police are mighty sharp. They'll see a link to the robbery here, and make the most of it. Keith

is doing all right in New York; he has a good job, and wants to keep it. But he will be through, if they hold

Ruth arose and glanced at the clock. She looked out through the window, saw Velma's car.

"It certainly would," assured Velma. "Keith could go right to the police and say that he was at Club

Sixtysix. They would class him as a witness, just like the rest of us who were there, until he mentioned

Richmont. If they should become suspicious, it would be your turn. With you vouching for him, they

Ten minutes later, Velma's car was wheeling from the driveway, with Ruth as a passenger. The girls were too

busy talking to catch the slightest glimpse of Clyde's car, parked deep in the trees. Clyde saw them swing in

As they neared the town, Velma decided that her roadster needed gasoline and oil. Stopping at a service

station near Wendel's general store, she glanced at the store itself and became quite intrigued. Smilingly,

Passing from counter to counter, Velma saw the halfopen door of the storeroom and noticed the collection

of old stock. Much to Ruth's amusement, Velma decided that the items of junk were antiques. Velma insisted

that the clerk show her some of the old lamps; learning their prices, she decided to buy a few.

Ruth had no idea why Velma selected the particular lamps she did. There was no real choice among them; all

were hideously clumsy. If anything, Velma's choice seemed influenced by weight; apparently she thought

that the heavier the lamp, the more she was getting for her money, since all were about the same in price.

The clerk offered to take the lamps apart and pack them, but Velma was in a hurry. She let him remove the

shades and mantles and bundle them so they would not break, but the lamps, themselves, were simply

By then, Clyde Burke was strolling into the store. He heard Ruth and Velma discussing the best route to New

York. Velma decided to make a longdistance call from a phone booth at the back of the general store.

Clyde wasn't close enough to overhear what she said. He used the same booth himself, as soon as Velma and

Ruth were gone. Clyde's call was to Burbank, giving him the license number of Velma's car and the route by

The car, it happened, was already marked, for it was the one originally belonging to George Ambril, and

taken by Jack Prenter. Later, Glenn Torbin had let Keith Ellerton use it to escape from Richmont. Fully paid

for, it was supposed to be in Cincinnati in the possession of Ambril's relatives. Agents of the Wasp had faked

As the afternoon drifted, Clyde decided that nothing else could happen. His surmise was wrong; Richmont

Clyde was in the store when it began; he saw Burgess Wendel arriving from upstairs, shouting news that all

"REMEMBER that young snip Ellerton?" blared the burgess. "Sheriff Cady just learned that he played a

mean trick on Glenn Torbin. Ellerton didn't take the early train to New York, like he said. He didn't leave

As the burgess paused, Clyde did some quick thinking. This was Velma's work. Clyde saw the link at once.

Someone at the Apex Garage in Northfield must have been in the Wasp's employ, since crooks like Prenter

had left their cars there. Velma had relayed word to start the blowoff involving Keith in crime.

"D'you know what that means?" continued Wendel, taking Clyde as the nearest listener. "Young Ellerton was

traipsing around in Glenn's car all that evening. Why, he's the one who could have led that mob up at the

"You know" the burgess wagged a forefinger "the sheriff found a heap of tire marks, ones with fancy

treads, up near Gorham's. He made casts of them, too, being scientificminded. Only, he never could find the

"He's been up to the ground again, though, and he found something he didn't see in the dark, that other night.

A sweater and a mask, stowed up in the branches of a tree. A sweater with the initials 'K. E.,' and if that don't

mean Keith Ellerton, I'll bust my thirtyyear policy and hold a bargain sale right in this here store!"

Clyde had heard many men swear solemn oaths, but this, coming from Burgess Wendel, was about as

powerful as any could be. The Wasp had raised the lid, so far as Richmont was concerned.

Usually subtle, the Wasp had ordered simple tactics for this vicinity. Straight, direct evidence would count

"We've got to reach Glenn Torbin," concluded the burgess. "So far, we haven't been able. He's the one person

who can tell us how to find Keith Ellerton, if the young rascal is still in New York."

Those words struck home to Clyde. He knew why Glenn could not be reached. The Wasp needed a delay, for

a very important reason. Things still stood as they had before; all false evidence could be ruined, if Ruth

Gorham testified in Keith's behalf. But if Ruth disappeared, as she might in Velma's company, Keith would

Back at the telephone, Clyde put in another call to Burbank, hoping against hope that The Shadow could

Outside, dusk had settled, bringing darkness that would lie over Manhattan, as well as Richmont. That fact, at

Night would aid The Shadow, as the past had proven. But night, judged by recent events, could be useful to

WITH dusk, Manhattan had become a jeweled carpet, its myriad lights a countless cluster of gems, when

viewed from the sixtiethstory office of Basil Gannaford. But neither Gannaford nor his visitors were

interested in the sight. The thing that concerned them was a letter which lay on Gannaford's great desk.

There were two visitors: Commissioner Ralph Weston and his friend Lamont Cranston. Gannaford's chin

rested in the linked fingers of his elbowpropped hands, as he noted their interest in the unsigned

"It may be a hoax, commissioner," Gannaford declared. "After all, it is not very specific. It merely states that

if I return home before eight o'clock, I shall surely discover a trusted man engaged in crime. But if the writer

Weston picked up the sheet. Gannaford watched him curiously, as he held the letter to the light. Apparently,

Weston was trying to read something through the paper. But the commissioner held the sheet so long, that

Gannaford gave a puzzled look toward Cranston, as if questioning Weston's mental status.

Suddenly, Commissioner Weston gave an exclamation. He turned with the sheet of paper.

It had developed itself in brown, that telltale scrawl which Weston attributed to The Shadow, but which

Cranston knew had come from the Wasp. As for Gannaford, his interest was aroused; not only because the

message had gained a sudden import, but because the name of The Shadow intrigued him.

"We would like to know, ourselves," returned Weston. "It is sufficient to state that we received a similar note,

which tipped us off to trouble at Club Sixtysix. I am confident, Mr. Gannaford, that crime will strike at your

Gannaford sank back in his chair. His stare was far away, as though he sought to view the scene where crime

"The note mentions a trusted person," reminded Weston. "Who could that person be?"

"I don't know," Gannaford replied. "Awhile ago I dismissed some servants, but I did so because I no longer

trusted them. The only trusted person who knows anything about my private affairs is my secretary, Norlon."

"He was called away, unexpectedly, this afternoon. He took a plane for Cleveland, where his aunt is ill."

"That gives us two theories," he announced. "One, that Norlon is the person meant; that his trip is a fake. The

other, that Norlon has answered a false call, so that someone, connected, perhaps, with one of your many

offices, can enter the house unchallenged. We must go to your house, Mr. Gannaford. I shall instruct

Gannaford nodded agreement. Glancing at the note, observing its mention of eight o'clock, he decided that he

had time to sign some letters. Weston and Cranston went out to the anteroom, to wait. There, Cranston

"I'll run along, commissioner," he said, "and meet you at Gannaford's house, later. I only hope we won't run

RIDING in his limousine, Cranston turned the dial of a special shortwave radio hidden behind a panel at the

back of the front seat. He was drawing on his cloak, reaching for his slouch hat, when he heard Burbank's

It wasn't Cranston who responded over the twoway hookup. The tone that issued from the lips beneath the

Detail by detail, Burbank continued, giving the whole story of new developments in Richmont. Some hours

ago, Burbank had informed The Shadow that Velma and Ruth had started for New York together. These news

facts, threatening the good name of Keith Ellerton, simply fitted with The Shadow's expectations.

The limousine continued to its destination, a quiet East Side street. Alighting in the darkness, The Shallow

took a course through gloomy passages and reached the basement entrance to the Tuxedo Club.

A future night spot, at present it was little more than a hideout for Ken Dallas and a few strongarm

workers who served the Wasp. Depending entirely upon smoothies, the Wasp always kept the toughs out of

A glimmer of a tiny flashlight, alternating red and green, brought stealthy figures toward The Shadow. Soon,

the cloaked chieftain was speaking to a pair of agents who were quite competent to handle any flareup at the

One was Cliff Marsland, who bore a reputation as a oneman mob. Cliff was a survivor of the period when

Rumor had it that Cliff was still about because he had played the lone wolf, making it impossible for anyone

to betray him. It never occurred to the rumor mongers that Cliff still roved because he was not a crook at all,

Cliff's companion, Hawkeye, was about half his size. Crafty, wizened, Hawkeye could penetrate places and

learn what was doing. With Hawkeye's eyes available, Cliff always held the advantage when battle came; and

Both agents had seen Jack Prenter enter the Tuxedo Club. Cliff had kept lookout on the ground, while

Hawkeye found the room where Prenter had gone. It was on the floor above the club, and its windows,

The opinion proved true. Scaling to a window, The Shadow wedged a thin instrument between the shutters

and lifted a crossbar. Easing through, he saw Prenter at a table, grinning over a bottle and a glass. In this

"back room," as he had termed it, Prenter was awaiting Velma's arrival and probably anticipating the horror

Below, Ken Dallas and his crew of unworthies would be available, when needed. Since Velma knew the

route to the room where Prenter waited, Ruth wouldn't suspect the trap until she actually entered it. Then,

He started to rehearse the part, but did not finish. A weird laugh whispered low in Prenter's ear; the muzzle of

an automatic froze against his neck. His snapping fingers faltered; his moving hand failed to grip the

Disarming Prenter, The Shadow pushed him to the window. Shoved across the sill, Prenter lost his weak hold

and plopped to the ground, six feet below, where another gun covered him before he could rise. Following,

The Shadow closed the shutters carefully, with the crossbar lifted. A slight jolt at the final shutting brought

Should Ken Dallas come up to see Jack Prenter, he would assume that the polished crook had strolled out for

The limousine was only a block away. Stowing Prenter inside it, The Shadow ordered Cliff and Hawkeye to

Then, riding away with Prenter limp beside him, The Shadow fished in the prisoner's pocket and found a

The Shadow's laugh gave Prenter the shivers. The crook stared when The Shadow compared the mask with

one that he, too, had brought along. Deciding in favor of Prenter's mask, The Shadow pulled it over the

prisoner's head, dragging it down below Prenter's chin, so that it fitted his neck like a noose.

Reaching a dull street in back of a bulky, oldfashioned house, the limousine stopped behind a parked coupe.

Taking the knot of Prenter's handkerchief, The Shadow twisted it, tightening the noose until the crook gulped

for breath. Shoving Prenter out, The Shadow pushed him into the other car, where another hand took over the

His eyes bulging, Prenter recognized the man who now had the grip on him and was accepting Prenter's own

revolver as an additional trophy from The Shadow. Prenter was in the charge of a man whom he had

WITH Harry holding Prenter helpless, The Shadow went away in the limousine. He had Stanley pull to a

curb when a big car approached. It was the commissioner's official car, and tonight, The Shadow could not

From darkness, The Shadow saw Gannaford riding with Weston; when the car had swung the corner, he told

A stocky man was impatiently pacing in front of Gannaford's house. As the official car arrived, Joe Cardona

met Weston and Gannaford, went up the steps with them, while Gannaford carefully unlocked the big front

The house was gloomy, for the servants were either out or in their topfloor quarters, since Gannaford had

The front door had closed again, when a limousine pulled up in back of the commissioner's car. From the

limousine stepped Lamont Cranston. He nodded a greeting to Weston's chauffeur. Mounting the steps, The

Shadow found a large bell handle; in the slow style of Cranston, he gave it a longdrawn tug.

There was a clangor in the house, as The Shadow delivered that unexpected summons. With the resounding

echoes of the big bell, Cranston's lips throbbed a softly whispered laugh. The Shadow had chosen the

The loud clang of Gannaford's doorbell was, in a sense, The Shadow's open challenge to the power of the

UPSTAIRS, Keith Ellerton was crouched in front of a large open safe, which, though bulky, was

oldfashioned in the extreme. Though the Wasp had furnished the combination to Gannaford's safe, his

So far, Keith had found mostly title deeds, musty ledgers, and business reports concerning the Gannaford

enterprises. The only stocks were old ones, that looked like the securities of defunct corporations. There was

grim irony in the fact that Keith, the robber who did not intend to rob, was finding nothing that he could have

The trouble was that Keith could not find Prenter's package. Perhaps Gannaford's secretary had failed to put it

in the safe. With piles of useless documents stacked all about him, Keith felt himself in a serious dilemma.

But his worry over the missing package was suddenly rendered small by a more serious happening.

Loud, brazen, the notes of the big front doorbell echoed through the house. Its ringing was like an electric

shock to Keith. He came to his feet, horrified; then, on rapid impulse, he whipped a handkerchief from his

Harry Vincent had insisted upon such a precaution, and Keith had promised to use the mask, should there be

any chance of his discovery. Harry had put it logically, saying that Keith had two jobs on hand: to get the

Still, Keith needed the package. It wasn't in the safe, so he sprang to the desk and tugged at locked drawers.

The package was not here at all; it didn't need to be. Crooks wanted him to be trapped in crime, to make up

for his escape at Gorham's. The link between the two places was plain, in this emergency, for Keith was in

Among his quick mental flashes, Keith had an incorrect one. He supposed that an enemy was ringing the

front doorbell, to bring calamity Keith's way. Actually, the clangor of the bell was started by a friend, The

Downstairs, Inspector Cardona had reversed his course and was dashing madly to the front door, to find out

who was making all the noise. Joe had been leading the way when the ringing began. As matters now stood,

Commissioner Weston was a few steps up, his broad face turned about, expressing annoyance. Gannaford

Cardona yanked the door open. In sauntered Lamont Cranston, to greet the inspector with a nonchalant nod.

Ahead, The Shadow saw Gannaford, wearing hat and heavy overcoat, a squatty figure at the bottom of the

"So it's you, Cranston!" he exclaimed. "Well, come along with us. We're going to see if "

The Commissioner suddenly forgot what he was going to see, because of something he heard. He started for

the top of the stairs, and Cardona made a dash to follow him. Joining the rush, The Shadow was only a few

steps behind Cardona, as they brushed past Gannaford, who hurriedly stepped out of their path.

At the top of the stairs, Weston waved a drawn gun at a masked man who was darting from a lighted room.

Seeing the way blocked, Keith turned and ran for a rear stairway. By then, servants were pounding down

from the floor above. Before they could grab him, Keith slugged his way through.

Weston was still waving the revolver, unwilling to risk a shot because of the servants, when Cardona arrived.

Joe saw the masked man step back to punch a servant, and took prompt but careful aim with his own gun.

As Cardona fired, he was jolted sideward, his shot going wide. Again, the offender was Cranston. Overtaking

Cardona, he was lunging ahead, and in the action he shouldered the inspector to one side.

Before Cardona could show anger at the interference, Cranston had justified it. With a swift lope, he reached

the masked man and grappled with him. Together, they bowled a last servant from their path and went

As the pair disappeared, both Weston and Cardona saw Cranston yank the masked man's handkerchief down

When the grapplers reached the darkened kitchen, they saw Gannaford coming through a swinging door. A

foot hit the door and sent it flying back; despite his bulk, Gannaford was flattened in the hallway on the other

Cardona, too, struck trouble, as he pounded down from the back stairs. He tripped over Cranston, who

Out through the kitchen door, the route by which he had entered, Keith reached Harry's car. Two figures

shoved out as he arrived. Keith saw Prenter, half strangled by a noose which Harry gripped. A gun in his

Then, Harry snapped an order, which both Keith and Prenter applied to themselves. The words were:

KEITH sped the car away as Prenter stumbled along the sidewalk, trying to get back his breath. The noise of

the departing car was drowned by loud revolver shots, which Harry discharged from Prenter's gun as he

followed the stumbling crook. Harry was shooting in air, toward Gannaford's roof.

Men were coming from the back door as Harry overtook Prenter, made a wild swing at the fellow and lost the

gun. A moment later, Harry was ducking for a space between Gannaford's house and the next, while Prenter

Turning, Prenter aimed the revolver at a tall arrival and pressed the trigger. The gun didn't fire; Harry had

Tricked by the very game that he had worked on Keith at Club Sixtysix, Prenter had no time for another

move. Sprawling the crook to the sidewalk, The Shadow held him until Cardona arrived. Prodding Prenter

with a revolver, Cardona marched him into Gannaford's kitchen, where the light showed Prenter's face.

"Is this the man? queried Cardona. "The fellow you grabbed before, Mr. Cranston?"

The Shadow was referring to his grab at the Tuxedo Club, not the later grapple with Keith in Gannaford's

upstairs hall. Prenter's sputtery protests were of no use. The handkerchief, hanging around his neck, was

Prenter's capture was to be an object lesson for the Wasp. Since the Wasp specialized in framing innocent

With Prenter taking the brunt for attempted robbery, a mild charge considering the crook's actual crimes,

Keith was safely in the clear. The Shadow had ordered Harry to meet him later, at the apartment.

Up in the study, The Shadow played the passive part of Cranston long enough to learn that nothing valuable

had been stolen. Still wearing his hat and coat, Gannaford was telling his servants to stack the bundles from

"I keep nothing of great value here," said Gannaford to Weston. "I suppose the criminal thought that I had

valuables at home, like Warrendon. By the way" he stroked his chin reflectively "haven't most of these

Since Cardona had already gone to headquarters, taking Prenter, the commissioner decided to search the

immediate vicinity with the aid of Gannaford's servants. The Shadow strolled along with them; then, tiring of

Weston was a trifle piqued to learn that Cranston had deserted him, but finding that the search produced

Sending the servants back into the house, the commissioner left in his official car, thinking that the night's

excitement was over. The Shadow could have told him why there had been no mob in the attempted robbery

at Gannaford's. Inasmuch as the game had been the framing of Keith Ellerton, the Wasp's men had purposely

But to The Shadow, regaining his garb of black as he rode in the limousine, the evening's adventures had just

begun. Other causes lay ahead; the trapping of more crooks, whose capture could bring a straight trail to the

ONCE away from Gannaford's, Keith Ellerton showed that he had acquired some knowledge of Manhattan,

by taking a roundabout route to his apartment house. He was sure that someone would be trying to pick up

his trail, so he adopted the same tactics that he had used the night when he left Richmont.

Whether he should fear crooks, police, or both, Keith did not know. Events were quite beyond him, and he

could only hope that Harry would have the explanation. But in seeking facts for himself, Keith came on a few

more glimmers of truth. He became mistrustful of Glenn Torbin. Twice, Glenn had encouraged him to steps

Instead of going to his own apartment, where he was to meet Harry, Keith stopped at Glenn's. Having learned

enough about New York apartment houses, he pushed various buttons in the lobby, until somebody pressed

an upstairs switch and admitted him. Not having touched Glenn's button in the process, Keith was quite sure

Outside the apartment, Keith could hear Glenn talking over the telephone. Pressing his ear close to the door,

Keith overheard the conversation, for the simple reason that Glenn, having recently finished a longdistance

"Yes, I heard from Richmont," Glenn was saying. "Velma fixed everything... What? A slip at Gannaford's?...

But how did Prenter get mixed in it?... Yes, he knew he was supposed to wait for Velma... She's stopping at

There was a pause; Keith heard Glenn deliver a gloating laugh. He finished by saying:

As Glenn opened the door, Keith drove through. He took the traitor's neck in a quick grab, bowling him

Purple of face, Glenn was trying to blurt something, so Keith decided to hear him before pounding the

fellow's head against the wall. He released his grip on Glenn's neck, but stood ready with his fists, should the

"So you guessed it," gulped Glenn. Finding his breath, he laughed. "Well, it won't do you any good to take it

out on me. Yes, I'm crooked! I tried to frame you in Richmont, and I've been in on everything that's happened

Weakly, he pushed himself up from the floor. Keith let him rise, as encouragement for further confession.

"They're looking for you in Richmont," he said, "and the only thing you can do is go back there and take the

"I don't see why not," snapped Keith. "Anyway, why should I go back to Richmont?"

"Because we've got the Gorham girl here," returned Glenn. "And this racket of ours is run by a guy named the

Wasp. I'm telling you, just so you won't feel his sting. It's a kind that generally proves permanent."

"Suppose something happened to Ruth Gorham?" he queried. "Where would you stand? Absolutely nowhere!

But nothing will happen to her, if you admit those Richmont crimes. In that case we will simply hold her until

you reach the penitentiary. After that, she can go and remain quite safe, unless you start to talk."

Keith's arms had dropped. He was staring, stupefied. Glenn stepped past him, to the door, and made a bow to

"Get packed, and head for Richmont," suggested Glenn. "The sooner, the better for Ruth Gorham!"

DAZEDLY, Keith reached his apartment, to find Harry waiting for him. As Harry began asking questions,

Through Keith's brain was drilling the repeated thought that Ruth's life was at stake, the burden of saving it

Though Harry did not know the actual answer, he recognized that the Wasp must be behind it.

"You're afraid of the Wasp," spoke Harry. "Why should you be, Keith, when you know The Shadow is

"So you know about the Wasp!" he exclaimed. "I can talk to you, Harry, if you promise to tell no one "

"Can you reach The Shadow?" he queried. "Could he help us save Ruth from the Wasp?"

"Give me the whole story," suggested Harry, "and I can answer any question you want."

Keith blurted all that he had heard from Glenn. Crossexamining him about the telephone call, Harry learned

that Velma was stopping at the Hotel Trentine. That was enough for Harry. He put in a prompt call to

Keith was on his way out before Harry finished. Hearing the door slam, Harry quickly told Burbank that

Keith must have started for the Trentine. If possible, Harry would overtake him before he reached there. With

Meanwhile, a trim roadster was approaching the Hotel Trentine. At the wheel, Velma was speaking to Ruth

"I'll leave the packages here," said Velma. "Then we'll pick up a friend of mine at the Tuxedo Club. Later,

we'll probably see old Mr. Gannaford. Keith's working for him, you know. I think we can make him

Velma smiled as she spoke. She had a reason. If everything had gone according to schedule, Keith would

now be a prisoner at Gannaford's, implicated in robbery there. It might be that Prenter had orders from the

Wasp regarding a trip to Gannaford's, on the theory that Ruth would really believe Keith crooked, upon

Having won Ruth's complete confidence, Velma felt equal to the coming task, should it be appointed to her.

Swinging up to the entrance of the Hotel Trentine, she beckoned to a doorman and told him to remove the

The number of the suite was a countersign for those who served the Wasp, and Velma, well acquainted with

her chief, knew that the doorman was in the Wasp's employ. But the doorman had orders of his own. With a

"You'd better come in, Miss Corl. There was a longdistance call for you awhile ago. Perhaps" he glanced

Catching the inference, Velma stepped from the car, requesting Ruth to come along. The doorman followed

with the bundles; his back turned, he failed to notice a taxicab whip suddenly away.

The cab was Moe's; he had trailed Velma's car from the George Washington Bridge. Moe knew where he

could reach The Shadow without taking time to call Burbank. It wasn't far from the Trentine to the

SUITE 810 amazed Ruth, when she saw its lavish living room. Inviting Ruth to be seated, Velma went

through an inner door. Alone, Ruth glanced about and noticed the packages that Velma had brought, lying on

Ruth had wondered why Velma bought such junk. She wondered even more, when she contrasted the lamps,

which were halfunwrapped, with the fine furnishings in the elaborate hotel suite.

Lifting one of Wendel's prizes, Ruth was surprised at its heaviness. Curiously, she unscrewed the top of the

A glitter greeted her. With a gasp, Ruth tilted the lamp. From it poured a flood of antique jewelry, which she

recognized as her father's. Those stones, set in heavy gold, represented the Gorham fortune, now in the hands

Mere chance? Ruth dismissed the idea. She could picture the entire process. The thief had deliberately stowed

the swag in those lamps on Wendel's shelves, and Velma's task had been to acquire the lamps later.

To Ruth's mind flashed a name that she had heard; that of Glenn Torbin, the young man from Richmont who

Fleeting doubts of Keith's honesty vanished, as Ruth weighed him against Glenn. Hearing the door swing

open from the other room, Ruth turned indignantly, to confront Velma. It was too late; the blonde had seen

The gun was not necessary. Ruth was transfixed as she gazed toward the open door, where a man with body

of waspish shape stood facing her, his sharp eyes glaring from an enormous head. The creature's face was

livid, his bigtoothed mouth spread wide with a leer that in itself was frightful.

Noting Ruth's horror, Velma supplied the one thing that the monster lacked: a name. With a mock bow to

EIGHT floors below, Harry Vincent had finally overtaken Keith Ellerton in the Hotel Trentine lobby.

Gripping Keith's arm, Harry was trying to halt him short of the desk, where Keith was bent on making an

"You can't ask for the Wasp!" undertoned Harry. "If they know who he is, they won't tell you. Don't be a

Loud enough to be heard by half the lobby, Keith's words brought Glenn around. He had come in by a side

door, and was halfway to an elevator. After a darting glance from Keith to Harry, Glenn hurried to the

elevator. Keith made long strides after him, and Harry had no choice except to follow.

It was likely that Glenn had a gun. Harry tightened his grip on an automatic that he had brought for just such

an emergency. But, like Keith, Harry was thinking in terms of Glenn alone. He paid no attention to two

bellboys, who sidled from their bench and stepped into the car, just before the door closed.

Keith didn't have time to clutch Glenn, nor did Harry have a chance to cover the crook. Prodded suddenly by

guns, both turned to find themselves in the power of the grinning bellhops. Promptly letting his automatic

The gesture was sensible. Glenn hadn't learned of Harry's part in the capture of Prenter. All of Prenter's talk

to the law had been sheer denial of any crime. Even in the Wasp's estimate, Harry ranked in Keith's class;

If either had owned a gun, so Glenn reasoned, Keith would have carried it to Gannaford's. Knowing, from his

own tiff with Keith later, that the dupe was gunless, Glenn considered it unnecessary to frisk either of the

When the elevator reached the eighth floor, it stopped; the operator, like the bellboys, belonged to the Wasp.

Glenn ordered the gunners to march the prisoners to 810. He followed along, and the elevator returned to the

The outer room was empty when they entered it, but on a table, Keith saw objects that he recognized old

lamps from the general store in Richmont. They had been opened, and were lying in sections. Keith stared at

"You put the jewels in those," sneered Glenn. "Remember it, in case the Wasp still gives you a chance to take

The inner door opened; prodded by guns, the prisoners were pushed into the Wasp's own lair. Lights were

dim, but the room showed a glitter that came from an alcove, opposite. By the alcove stood the creature who

called himself the Wasp. He was looking at shelves in the alcove; shelves stocked with wealth.

A treasure cave in miniature, the alcove contained more than jewels. Among the glittering array were stacks

of currency, piles of bonds, even small models of inventions that the Wasp had pilfered during his career. The

jewels, however, caught the eye, not merely because of their glimmer, but because additions were being made

Ruth Gorham was arranging her father's gems as a new display, placing them wherever the Wasp pointed.

She was forced to the humiliating task, because Velma Corl was supplying nudges with a gun.

The Wasp, far from being pleased, was buzzing his contempt for the Gorham gems, which could not match

By way of disdain, the spindly creature stepped forward and grabbed Ruth's arm. As the girl shrank away, he

plucked a diamond ring from her finger, swept a bracelet from her arm. With his other hand, he snapped a

slender gold chain from Ruth's neck and tossed its hanging pendant in with the ring and bracelet. Thus did the

As on the night when he had rescued Ruth, Keith started an instinctive lunge. It was Harry's quick foot that

saved him. Tripping Keith, Harry caused him to stumble, and thus escape a gunshot in the back. Glenn pulled

Keith back to his feet, placing him back where he belonged against a gun muzzle.

THE WASP turned at the sounds of scuffle. Glenn introduced the new prisoners, and the Wasp sank his big

chin deep in the V of a thin hand. His eyes caught the light with a malicious sparkle, as he looked from

prisoner to prisoner. Whether he was planning death or some horrible torture, was simply a question.

"I have no need for any of you," spoke the Wasp, in a harshbuzzed tone. "While you lived, you were in

some manner useful. Two of you" he wagged a finger from Ruth to Keith "were each dependent on the

other, more than you supposed. The freedom of one was to be the price of the other's life."

Neither Keith nor Ruth quailed. Instead, their eyes meet, bravely. To Keith, Ruth was the same gorgeous girl

that he had met upon a fateful night which had linked their destinies. Perhaps Ruth, too, had felt an inkling of

that fate; certainly, she recognized it at this moment. The Wasp found ugly pleasure in the situation.

"Whatever of life remains to you," he told them, "will be spent together. I doubt, however" his very tone

He pressed a button set near the alcove. Harry knew that the monster was summoning an execution squad to

take the victims away. Where, if ever, their bodies would be found, Harry could not guess. The shrouding of

As those thoughts flooded Harry's mind, he found himself under the Wasp's immediate glare. Vicious eyes,

outvying the horrible grin, gave The Shadow's agent a thorough scrutiny. At last, the Wasp's teeth emitted an

"You are of good timber," he told Harry. "If you have qualms concerning murder, I advise you to forget them.

You could do credit to my organization; therefore, we shall test you. On your account, the death's of these"

he gestured toward Keith and Ruth "shall be a matter of exquisite torture. If you can watch it through, you

His hand, clamping upon Harry's shoulder, delivered a sharp sting. To the Wasp's relish, Harry did not wince.

There was a reason that the Wasp did not detect. To Harry, the monster's decision allowed a choice that the

Rather than see two victims racked to death on his account, Harry preferred a quick finish for himself.

Through his own death, he might lessen the horrible fate in store for Keith and Ruth. Such was enough to

A gun still in his pocket, Harry was actually equipped to rid the world of this monster, the Wasp! That

accomplished, other victims would face nothing more than an ordinary death. Perhaps Keith and Ruth would

On the very brink of suicide, Harry halted. He needed the slightest of reasons to take the plunge, and one was

promptly given him. The Wasp, hearing the clang of an elevator door, turned, and pressed a button to admit

Harry's forward spring took him away from the gun that covered him, so rapidly that he reached the Wasp

before anyone could stop him. Grabbing the spidery creature, Harry flung the Wasp about and tried to get his

Hands as slimy as the tentacles of an octopus grabbed for Harry's wrists. Glenn, Velma, and two other

gunners, were leaping in to settle Harry, when the Wasp, striking a button with his elbow, opened the door to

Keith and Ruth, flinging themselves toward incoming guns to hold off the newcomers, were halted by a

challenging laugh that stopped the other fray. All, Harry included, swung about to view the figure that

He had reached the elevator ahead of the summoned squad. Overpowering the operator, The Shadow had

made the fellow tell him where the Wasp's lair was. The Shadow had gained mastery of the present scene; he

TWO guns spoke: The Shadow's. With the double blast, he settled the two thugs who had trapped Harry and

Forgetting the Wasp, Harry sprang for Glenn and smothered him to the floor. Keith spilled Velma as she tried

From the midst of his floundering followers, the Wasp sprang to his treasure alcove. He wanted no duel with

The Shadow. He was clawing among his baubles, like an ostrich seeking to bury itself by hiding its head; a

thing which in the Wasp's case might have applied, considering the oversize of his head.

The Shadow's chance to drill the writhing, spindly body was postponed by a clatter from the outer room.

Arrived in another elevator, the torture squad had heard the gunfire in the Wasp's headquarters; they were

Wheeling, The Shadow gave them a bombardment from the one source whence they did not expect it the

At a shout from Harry, The Shadow swung again to the alcove. By then, the Wasp had found the thing he

wanted: a lever, hidden by his stocks of treasure. As he pulled it, a steel barrier dropped in front of the alcove;

The Shadow's bullets thudded the barrier as it fell. With the Wasp gone, The Shadow left the prisoners to the

others. Heading out to the regular elevators, he took over one and went down to the lobby. Through a side

door, he reached the street. By then, cars were coming from a garage at the rear of the Hotel Trentine.

Blasting away at frantic marksmen, The Shadow drove off the Wasp's reserves. Reaching the garage, he saw

a light truck speed out through a farther door. Scrambling from sight in the back was the Wasp, among open

The boxes were the shelves from the alcove; they were removable, and served as coffers when set with the

Though safely away in flight, the Wasp was pursued by a foreboding tone of mockery, that promised him

BY the time police arrived at the eighthfloor suite in the Hotel Trentine, Harry Vincent had sent Keith

Ellerton and Ruth Gorham away. Only two prisoners were dangerous: Glenn Torbin and Velma Corl.

Harry held them under full control; the rest, a few who had survived The Shadow's fire, were too badly

Battle in and around the hotel brought plenty of police, among them Inspector Joe Cardona. Hearing Harry's

story, Cardona found it generally acceptable except for one detail, which had worried Harry in advance.

Cardona had heard from Richmont. The authorities in that town wanted Keith Ellerton, in connection with

robbery. Glenn Torbin, accused by Harry of crime, stood well in Richmont, which rather puzzled Cardona.

Smart as ever, Glenn promptly changed his tune, arguing that he had tried to fight on the side of justice, but

In her turn, Velma claimed friendship for Ruth, who was a missing factor in the case. When Harry pointed to

the old lamps that had held the Gorham jewels, Velma declared that she had brought them from Richmont at

Preferring Harry's account, Cardona decided to hold Glenn and Velma in custody until he gained more

He knew what the looks meant. The smooth crooks were hoping that the Wasp would still manage to get rid

It happened that Harry had no need to worry about Keith and Ruth, for the present. The two were riding

around Manhattan in Moe Shrevnitz's cab, taking advantage of an hourly rate that Moe offered, after picking

Behind the cab, Cliff and Hawkeye were following in a car, ready to give the alarm if the Wasp's forces

When they gave alarms, Cliff and Hawkeye had a habit of annihilating the cause; hence Moe was unworried

regarding Glenn and Velma. Considering the happiness of their reunion, he picked Central Park as the best

Only half the hour was gone, when Keith decided that he and Ruth must go to Gannaford's. Remembering his

first and only visit to the financial wizard's office, Keith decided that Gannaford would listen to his story.

When the cab stopped in front of Gannaford's, a big car was standing there. Recognizing it, Moe remarked

that it belonged to the police commissioner. Entering the house, Keith and Ruth asked for Commissioner

They found that Weston had just arrived, accompanied by a friend named Cranston. Weston, too, had

received a report from Richmont, and had found out that Keith was employed by one of Gannaford's

Seated behind his study desk, Gannaford looked quite as Keith had seen him in the office a kindly man,

whose lips held a steady smile and whose eyes twinkled understanding. When Weston started to place Keith

Keith told it, with Ruth corroborating the details of the robbery at Richmont. Anxious to reveal all that he

could about the Wasp, Keith hurried through the intervening parts and gave a graphic description of the final

"Amazing!" exclaimed Weston. "Think of it!" He turned from Cranston to Gannaford. "A crime ring of such

heinous caliber, its headquarters here in New York, reaching out to pluck new victims into its slime! Such an

organization would require a monstrous head, like this creature, the Wasp, that Ellerton has described.

"As I have said before, Cranston" Weston turned to his calmfeatured friend "we owe a debt to The

Shadow. He is our constant champion, when it comes to battling such superminds as the Wasp. Not that

others are not entitled to credit; yourself, for instance. You did excellent work tonight, Cranston, when you

THE SHADOW arose, in Cranston's leisurely style; he strolled across the room and lounged by the stacks of

"Prenter happened to be the wrong man," declared The Shadow, idly. "So you can reserve your credit,

"But he didn't attempt this robbery." Cranston's gesture indicated Gannaford's closed safe. "Ellerton admits

himself to be the man that we discovered here. What about it, Mr. Gannaford?" The Shadow turned, with a

"Of course not!" exclaimed Gannaford. "Ellerton was justified in anything he did."

Commissioner Weston looked puzzled, as he watched Cranston stroll back to his chair. He knew Cranston

well enough to understand that something odd was brewing. Usually, in such cases, Cranston directed his

"You are holding Prenter on a charge of attempted burglary," declared The Shadow. "I insist, commissioner,

"No, no!" It was Keith who interrupted. "I have no love for Prenter, but I can't see him jailed for the one

"I understand." Cranston's tone was sympathetic. "Suppose you settle the matter, Ellerton. You claim that you

Promptly, Keith stepped to the safe. Gannaford objected, on the ground that the demonstration was not

necessary; but Weston, anxious to settle the argument with Cranston, insisted that Keith proceed. As Keith

"That's enough," declared Gannaford, sympathetically. "You have proven your story, Ellerton."

Keith turned away, feeling much like a real culprit. Cranston tested the handle, once or twice, to see if it

actually turned. He gave a shrug, as if to step away; the gesture was so natural that Gannaford relaxed and

The instant was enough. Had Commissioner Weston been observing Cranston at the moment, he might have

known that his calm friend was The Shadow. But Weston was looking at Gannaford, and did not spy the

With one hand, the amazing Mr. Cranston whipped the safe door wide, at the same time performing a quick

side step that carried him behind its sheltering bulwark. His other hand, with a flicking motion, produced the

revolver that he had recently taken from Prenter and poked it past the edge of the safe door.

"Stay where you are, Gannaford," came Cranston's tone. "I think it is your turn to offer explanations!"

From Gannaford's view, only two things were visible: the gun muzzle and an eye above it. Had Gannaford

But the others, coming to their feet, were staring at a brighter sight than a gun muzzle. They were viewing the

There, arranged much as Keith and Ruth had described them, were the trophies that had been in the Wasp's

alcove. The flash of brilliant jewels blended with the duller gleam of the Gorham antiques. Stacks of currency

and bonds supported the model inventions that the Wasp had wrested from rightful creators.

The wealth, itself, seemed to shout the startling truth that Basil Gannaford was in reality the Wasp!

"SMALL wonder your enterprises profited, Gannaford," came the accusing tone of Cranston. "You could

operate at a loss, if you chose, to cover your real business crime. It was easy enough to write in as profits

"You said, yourself, that anyone could have found Warrendon's options useful. Unfortunately, the

commissioner and myself failed to catch the real inference of your remark. From then on, you kept yourself

well covered, even to the point of ordering your own workers to operate against yourself!"

Gannaford's answer was a lowbuzzed snarl. His posture had changed; no longer hunched, his shoulders

showed the thinness that characterized the Wasp. As for his features, Gannaford's eyes were ablaze with fury;

"Odd, how rapidly news traveled," spoke Cranston, casually. "Tonight, the Wasp's workers learned that

things had gone wrong here, before they should have found it out. Inspector Cardona had charge of Prenter at

the time. Your servants, Gannaford, were with Commissioner Weston and myself. Only you were able to

That statement told Gannaford that Cranston was The Shadow. But Commissioner Weston, supposing that

Cranston had merely weighed facts and acted on them, still had no clue to the dual identity of his friend. The

fact that Gannaford was the Wasp, was all that Weston could digest at one swallow.

His own gun drawn, Weston found another in Gannaford's pocket and handed it to Keith. Calmly, Cranston

closed the door of the safe and turned the combination, to keep the treasure intact for its various owners while

Weston was settling the Gannaford question. It was then that Cranston indulged in a whimsical smile.

"We are both forgetful," he said to Gannaford. "I should have remembered that this gun of Prenter's was

Tossing the useless revolver on the desk, Cranston strolled from the study and downstairs. His being

"forgetful," as he had termed it, dispelled any idea that he was The Shadow, except with Gannaford. To the

Wasp, the very things that made the others doubt stood as proof that he had met the one superfoe he feared.

No longer behind the desk that helped hide his scrawny form, the Wasp shambled toward the stairs, covered

Weston realized why Gannaford had favored a heavy overcoat when riding in the official car. With such a

Following down the stairway, Ruth watched Weston open the front door, while Keith stepped through to wait

for Gannaford. The Wasp's whole attitude seemed pitiful, his position even more helpless, as a car pulled up

In shambly fashion, the Wasp leaned toward Keith. Then, his face solemn, in the style of Gannaford, he said

The Wasp's hand pressed Keith's shoulder. A metal disk flashed in his palm, the device that delivered the

electric shocks from batteries laced to his belt. Keith gave a jolt, and Cardona, ignorant that Gannaford was

His scrawny legs making frantic strides, the Wasp fled along the sidewalk, with Weston shooting wildly from

the steps. Coming up with Keith's gun, Cardona saw what the commissioner was doing and joined the fire too

From across the street, a taxicab shot forward; from its interior came a challenging tone that promised to stop

NEVER could the Wasp have eluded his waiting foe, without the aid of chance intervention. It came, at the

one moment it was most needed. A big sedan rolled in from the corner, guns spouting from its windows. That

car held the only actual mob that the Wasp commanded; workers that he never launched in any of his regular

They were looking for Keith Ellerton, and had decided that the best way to find him was by following Joe

Cardona. They wanted to eliminate Keith, the man whose testimony would settle Glenn and Velma. They saw

their wanted victim, with Ruth beside him. In their eyes, Weston and Cardona were good prey, too.

Before the murderous guns could blaze, The Shadow's cab twisted across the sedan's path. With a mighty

Up from behind the cab arrived another car, its two occupants siding with The Shadow. Cliff Marsland and

Dallas and his motley misfits came rolling from their car, flinging their guns ahead of them. With his agents

covering the surrendering crooks, The Shadow sped on to the chase. By then, the Wasp had disappeared. The

street beyond was vacant. The fugitive supercrook had found a waiting car, and gone.

SOME hours afterward, when Lamont Cranston was riding toward his New Jersey home, he saw the lights of

a plane from some unknown airport. Tiny lights, heading out to sea, sending back a motor's tone a buzz that

Such was The Shadow's last reminder of the Wasp, evil creature of crime. His sting gone, the Wasp had

There was speculation in The Shadow's whispered laugh; with it, a note of new challenge to the Wasp.

Whatever the future might hold, no one knew not even The Shadow. But this case could go down in The

Shadow's private annals as complete, its purpose accomplished. If the paths of The Shadow and the Wasp