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

CHAPTER I. FOOTSTEPS TO CRIME .................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. WORD TO THE SHADOW ............................................................................................6

CHAPTER III. THE CLUB RIVOLI....................................................................................................10

CHAPTER IV. THE SHADOW HEARS ..............................................................................................14

CHAPTER V. BIRDS OF A KIND .......................................................................................................18

CHAPTER VI. AGENTS OF MURDER..............................................................................................22

CHAPTER VII. TRAILS DIVERGE....................................................................................................27

CHAPTER VIII. ON THE SPEEDWAY..............................................................................................31

CHAPTER IX. MARQUETTE REPORTS ...........................................................................................35

CHAPTER X. BURKE'S INTERVIEW ................................................................................................40

CHAPTER XI. ROCHELLE RESPONDS ............................................................................................45

CHAPTER XII. THE NEW GAME......................................................................................................49

CHAPTER XIII. THE THEFT..............................................................................................................54

CHAPTER XIV. THE CODE BOOK...................................................................................................60

CHAPTER XV. THURK STRIKES.....................................................................................................67

CHAPTER XVI. THE TRAP THAT FAILED.....................................................................................71

CHAPTER XVII. THE SHADOW WITHDRAWS ..............................................................................74

CHAPTER XVIII. THE MEETING ......................................................................................................77

CHAPTER XIX. THE STROKE OF DEATH......................................................................................80

CHAPTER XX. THE DEATH VATS ...................................................................................................82

CHAPTER XXI. THE FINAL REPORT..............................................................................................85

IT was midnight. From the brilliance of one of Washington's broad avenues, the lights of a large embassy

building could be seen glowing upon the sidewalks of the street on which it fronted.

Parked cars lined the side street. One by one they were moving from their places, edging to the space in front

of the embassy, where departing guests were ready to leave. An important social event was coming to its

The broad steps of the embassy were plainly lighted. Upon them appeared two men dressed in evening

clothes. One was a tall, grayhaired individual; the other a stocky, squarefaced man who leaned heavily

upon a stout cane as he descended the steps. The two men paused as they reached the sidewalk.

"You have a car here, Mr. Rochelle?" inquired the tall man, as a uniformed attendant approached.

"No, senator," returned the man with the cane. "It is not far to my residence. I prefer to walk. If you should

"Gladly," interposed the grayhaired man. "Your headquarters is on the way to my hotel. The night is mild.

The pair headed from the direction of the avenue. Side by side, they followed the route that Rochelle

indicated. The embassy attendant watched them as they moved along the street. His gaze centered upon the

Coming down the embassy steps, Rochelle's manner of locomotion had seemed quite normal. Upon the

sidewalk, however, the man who carried the cane formed an odd and conspicuous figure. Every stride caused

his body to incline heavily to the right, where its sagging stopped by Rochelle's pressure on the strong

Then came a momentary stop. Rochelle's right leg, swinging forward, resumed its pace. His whole body

seemed to twist with the effort. The halting limp continued with regular precision; yet despite it, Rochelle

The embassy attendant knew him by sight. He was Darvin Rochelle, founder of the International Peace

Alliance. His halting, sagging figure could be seen at all the important functions which took place at foreign

embassies, for Darvin Rochelle was noted as a student of international problems.

TURNING a corner, Darvin Rochelle and his companion arrived upon a welllighted street. Their faces

The tall, grayhaired senator was listening with dignified pleasure to the words which his limping companion

uttered. Darvin Rochelle, his firm face gleaming with the fire of enthusiasm, was talking in modulated tones

"World peace!" Rochelle's declaration came with emphasis. "It is not a dream, senator! It is reality. Look at

the world today. Do you see war? Only in scattered portions of the globe. Peace is the predominating desire

"Perhaps," maintained the senator dryly. "Yet the world has not changed. Nations races all have

differences. War, despite its futility, seems to be the only choice when difficulties must be settled."

"Agreed," stated Rochelle, turning his head as he limped. "Next, you will point out to me the failure that

seems to have gripped the League of Nations. I shall agree with you there. Nevertheless, world peace can be

"Commendable," remarked the senator. "Let us hope, Rochelle, that your plans will succeed. From what you

have told me, I realize fully that your work is worthy of support. The International Peace Alliance is

"Yet a simple one, senator. It seeks to produce international understanding. That is all. We have

representatives in every country. All are pledged to throw their influence into the scale that will bring the

"There are barriers between countries. Such barriers were natural once, but today, with international

communication a matter of great ease, the barriers are falling. The International Peace Alliance has stimulated

trade relations between different countries. That, more than any propaganda, is the first step to permanent

"Certainly," rejoined the grayhaired senator. "When nations depend upon one another commercially, their

"Therefore," resumed Rochelle, "the International Peace Alliance has found the way to remove that barrier.

We are preparing our new universal language, called Agro. With its completion, there will be a positive form

"Will it work?" questioned the senator. "The same attempt has been tried before. Esperanto "

"Esperanto?" Rochelle's question was scornful. "Bah! Esperanto was a poor attempt at an international

tongue. It was launched before its time. It died a natural death. Today, however, when all languages are

becoming modern, the time is ripe for a universal system. Agro will fill the need.

"Agro will receive endorsement in every land. It will be taught in elementary schools. Each year, its

vocabulary will be expanded. Agro is designed to grow until it will predominate. Then, senator, world

THE two men had turned into another street. Rochelle's halting limp came to a stop. Resting upon his cane,

"My residence," he stated simply. "Also the headquarters of the International Peace Alliance. Will you come

"Step inside for a few minutes. I shall order my limousine to take you to the hotel."

The senator agreed. With Rochelle, he ascended the stone steps. The door opened as the two men arrived at

"Order the limousine, Gaillard," instructed Rochelle. Then, to his companion: "Let me show you our

There were two doors on each side of the hall. Rochelle led the senator through the door to the right. He

pressed a switch; the light showed a room that was fitted like a museum. Shelves and show cases held

"Our display room," explained Rochelle. "It familiarizes all visitors with the customs and products found

throughout the world. This" he paused as he opened a door at the rear of the room and led the senator into

what appeared to be an office "is where all our detail work is done. At present, we have but a small force.

That is all that we can accommodate. Later, we shall take additional offices elsewhere."

Crossing to the left, Rochelle limped through a door that showed another rear room of the huge ground floor.

This place was equipped with tables covered with magazines and newspapers; its walls were lined with

"Our international library," informed Rochelle. "Current publications from all the world. These" he was

"Yes," admitted Rochelle, as he led the visitor through to the front room on the left, "but a worthy one. Our

They were standing in the front room. The senator stared at the walls. Beautifully decorated in many colors,

they formed maps in mural style. The entire world was depicted. Darvin Rochelle smiled as he observed the

The senator was still walking about the room from map to map when Gaillard entered to inform Rochelle that

the limousine was in front. The senator heard the servant's statement. He glanced at his watch. He walked

"Sorry," he said, "but I really must get back to the hotel. When I have the opportunity, Rochelle, I shall come

to see you. I want to hear more about your peace plans. You are here most of the day?"

"Nearly all the time." They were in the hallway, and Rochelle waved his hand toward a broad marble

staircase that led directly to the second floor. "My private office is above. Call at any time you wish, senator.

AS soon as the visitor had departed, Darvin Rochelle turned and limped toward the stairway. His halting

The man with the limp opened a door and entered a large anteroom, where chairs lined the walls. He passed

through to another door and stepped into an office that was furnished with expensive mahogany. Here,

Directly to the left of the desk was a huge globe of the world. It was more than three feet in diameter; it rested

in a circular mahogany cradle atop a heavy metal tripod. Pausing by the globe, Rochelle rested upon his cane.

A strange smile appeared upon Rochelle's face. Here in the lighted room, his features showed a curious

change of expression. From those of an idealist, they became the countenance of a gloating schemer.

The spinning globe slowly dawdled to a stop. Rochelle seated himself behind the desk. He opened a drawer

and reached inside. His fingers found a buzzer hidden at the top of the drawer. Rochelle pressed the button

The glass showed the reflection of a doorway at the back of the office. While Rochelle watched, the door

The newcomer was a dwarf, twisted in body, vicious in face. An ugly smile was on the deformed man's

"Over there, Thurk," ordered Rochelle quietly. He indicated the opposite side of the desk.

The dwarf complied. He took his stand in front of his master. Resting both hands upon the desk, he formed a

grotesque monster with long, scrawny arms and head that seemed too large for the skinny shoulders which

Wild eyes gleamed from Thurk's pasty face. Bloated lips moved while the hideous creature spoke in a harsh,

With this syllabic utterance, Rochelle arose from his chair. He walked directly to the door where he had seen

Thurk's reflection. As the master limped in that direction, the dwarf followed with bounding steps.

BEYOND the door, Rochelle came to a spiral staircase. He descended, without the aid of his cane. Thurk

continued, creeping downward, until they reached a small room at the bottom of the steps. Here Rochelle

unbarred a steel door. He turned out the single light and opened the barrier amid darkness.

Rochelle limped out into the cool air of a walled courtyard. Directly ahead, showing dimly in the vague light

that came from above, was an iron fence with a little gate. It formed the rear of Rochelle's property. Beyond it

was the back of a dilapidated house, for Rochelle's mansion was on the fringe of a decadent district.

Through the gate, Rochelle unlocked the back door of the house in the rear. He entered and groped his way to

a flight of stairs. At the bottom, Thurk, still following, could hear the click of his master's cane against the

Lying on the floor was the body of a young man. The bloodincrusted front of a tuxedo shirt showed where a

bullet had ended the victim's life. Rochelle sneered as he gripped a post beside him and used his cane to poke

Thurk, approaching his master, produced a large envelope from a pocket. He handed it to Rochelle and

He took the envelope, thrust it in a pocket of his evening clothes and pointed to the body with his cane.

Thurk understood the gesture. He stooped; with a display of remarkable strength, he hoisted the corpse to his

shoulders and carried it through an archway in the cellar. Rochelle, still gripping the post, was listening. He

A soft, insidious snarl came from Rochelle's lips. Leaning upon his cane, the man with the limp clicked back

across the cellar. He retraced the course that he had taken; back into his own house; up the spiral stairway to

There, he opened the envelope that Thurk had given him. Within it was another envelope which bore the

Documents came out upon the desk. With eager eyes, Rochelle began to study them. His visage showed an

evil gleam, as he perused these papers which had been purloined from a murdered man.

Completing his inspection, Rochelle arose and moved to a safe in the wall. He turned the combination,

opened the safe, then placed the papers within. He closed the door and turned to find that Thurk had come

Alone again, Rochelle indulged in a fiendish smile that gradually faded from his lips to restore his benign

expression. Then, with the aid of his cane, he clumped through another door at the back of the office.

The hollow taps of the walking stick faded. Darvin Rochelle had retired for the night. Yet the echoes of that

Those clicks had told of the footsteps of Darvin Rochelle, a man whose life, presumably, had been devoted to

The footsteps of Darvin Rochelle had led to crime. The man with the limp was a monster whose ways were

LATE the next afternoon, a man appeared upon the fifth floor of the old Wallingford Building. He strolled

The visitor opened the door. Inside he found a young man seated at a desk. This was Clyde Burke, manager

and entire staff of the National City News Association. The visitor grinned as Burke looked up.

The visitor sat down. He watched Burke going over piles of clippings, while he puffed at a cigarette. The

visitor lighted one of his own. Like Burke, Garvey was a freelance journalist who had chosen Washington

Several minutes drifted by. Clyde Burke, stacking clippings in envelopes, paid no attention to his visitor. That

proved to be the best way to start Garvey talking. The visiting newspaperman gave up an attempt to blow

"Another attache gone haywire," remarked Garvey. "Here in Washington yesterday. Not here today. That

"And I suppose," declared Burke, "that he disappeared with important documents on his person."

"You guessed it," rejoined Garvey. "Same as the others, Burke. Laugh it off if you want to but I'm telling

"Never mind that. I've landed some good stories. But it's always my luck to pick up something that can't be

used. The fellow that's missing is named Glade Tromboll. The documents that he had were correspondence

"All?" Garvey snorted. "Say that's too much. What can you do with it? Nothing. Like those other birds that

flew the coop, this one is being kept quiet. Boy! You can't touch a story like that without official permission.

"Sure," responded Burke. "You'd find out that there never was anybody by the name of Glade Tromboll here

"That's it." Garvey grinned sourly. "You're wise to the way things work in this town. Land something that

looks real you can't touch it. It's lucky that newspapers like feature stories on the extermination of Japanese

beetles and construction of irrigation canals. If it wasn't for old standbys like that, I'd starve to death."

Garvey flicked his cigarette through the open window and strolled to the door. He waved goodby to Burke

AS soon as the door had closed, Clyde Burke reached for pencil and paper. He wrote out the information

Unwittingly, Garvey had brought important news to Clyde Burke. Garvey was but one of many free lances

who dropped into the National City News Association. Ever since he had opened his office, a few weeks

previous, Clyde Burke had been buying news items from those who had them to offer.

Why a young man like Clyde Burke should have come to Washington to compete with other news bureaus in

the already overburdened capital, was a mystery that had bothered no one. Others before Burke had fallen for

that same lure. Journalism had the mythical tradition that one might gain fame and fortune by opening a

Thus Clyde had been classed simply as another hopeful who was predestined to failure. Men like Garvey had

not even attempted to veil their opinions concerning his enterprise. They had seen others of Burke's ilk come

and go. They allowed the National City News Association a few months of existence that was all.

Little did they realize the true purpose of Clyde Burke's presence in Washington! The answer lay in the

quickness with which Clyde had seized upon the rumor which he had heard from Garvey. Facts like the

Less than a month ago, Clyde Burke had been working as a news reporter on the staff of the New York

Classic. While serving in that capacity, he had heard the rumor, whispered among newspapermen, that four

No names had been given. Two men, it was said, were minor members of South American legations. Two

others had been government employees. Each disappearance had been a matter of serious consequence.

Rumors that circulate through newspaper offices are usually well supplied with background. These stories

which Clyde Burke had heard while working for the Classic had not been printed. But to Clyde Burke, they

had proven more important than the greatest scoop he might possibly have made. Clyde had sent them on to

A STRANGE being who dwelt in unknown surroundings, The Shadow spent his life fighting in behalf of

justice. A sinister figure whose ominous power had spelled doom to ways of evildoers, The Shadow had

Through agents men who, though faithful, did not themselves know the identity of their mysterious chief

The Shadow kept his finger upon the pulsebeats of crime. One of his active agents was none other than Clyde

Burke. Through Clyde, The Shadow had learned these rumors of mysterious disappearances in the national

Clyde Burke had come to Washington at The Shadow's bidding. This office, in which he acted as a news

correspondent, was a blind. It was Clyde's duty to learn more about the rumored disappearances. Until today,

Another rumor! A new disappearance! This was a double discovery. To a clear thinker like Clyde Burke, it

carried a special significance. Four men had previously vanished from view: two were government

This fifth case involving Glade Tromboll was a link between the others. Tromboll, according to Garvey,

was a government employee; the documents which the missing man supposedly possessed were South

Seated at the desk in his little office, Clyde Burke set his lips grimly. He realized that he had been negligent.

In two weeks at Washington, he should have gained some data prior to the disappearance of Glade Tromboll.

Instead, Clyde had learned nothing; now, while he was on the very ground, another man had vanished.

In fact, Clyde had come to believe that the previous disappearance had been mere matters of coincidence. He

had said so in his past reports. This time he would be forced to retract his statements. His own inability to get

past the fringes of rumor meant that there could be but one way of getting further. Clyde would have to pass

Taking a telephone book, Clyde Burke looked up the name of Glade Tromboll. He did not find it listed. He

consulted other reference books those which contained the names of government employees and still

Clyde brought out a fountain pen. On white paper, he wrote a brief report in coded language. Oddly ciphered

words appeared in ink of vivid blue. As the writing dried, Clyde hastily folded the sheet and thrust it in an

RUTLEDGE MANN was contact agent for The Shadow. A message sent to him would be forwarded to The

Shadow himself. The ink in which Clyde Burke had written his message was a special type of fluid provided

by The Shadow. Its dried writing would vanish a few minutes after the letter was unfolded.

This meant that The Shadow alone would have opportunity to read the coded lines. Should it fall into other

hands, the message would prove useless; it would be gone before a person could begin to decipher it.

Clyde placed a stamp upon the envelope. He left the office, dropped the letter in a mail chute and returned.

He closed the news bureau and strolled from the building. A short walk brought him to the hotel where he

Seated in a room high above the street, Clyde watched the glittering lights as they appeared below.

Washington, of all cities, seemed placid and lawabiding. Yet Clyde Burke felt convinced that somewhere in

the nation's capital lay a problem that would prove difficult even to The Shadow.

While he was staring from the window, a sudden thought struck Clyde Burke. The young man went to a table

and opened a drawer. He brought out a neatly printed card which bore the legend:

This was a spot that Clyde Burke had visited shortly after his arrival in Washington. He had learned that it

was frequented by attaches of various legations, together with persons connected with the government.

Clyde had seen nothing at the Club Rivoli to arouse his suspicions. He had made the acquaintance of the

proprietor a genial fellow named "Whistler" Ingliss. Tonight, however, with thoughts of previous

negligence disturbing him, Clyde Burke decided that a new visit to the Club Rivoli would be wise. He

realized that he must pass up no opportunity while waiting for new orders from The Shadow.

Clyde Burke felt elated as he donned a tuxedo for his visit to the swanky bright spot across the Virginia

border. He had hopes that tonight he might uncover some bit of information that would furnish The Shadow

Little did Clyde Burke realize that he was proving every bit as negligent as before. That was because he could

not foresee tonight's events. Had he been able to do so, Clyde would not have trusted to the written report that

Instead, he would have put in an emergency call to The Shadow in New York. For Clyde Burke, without

IT was nine o'clock when Clyde Burke reached the Club Rivoli. Located several miles from Washington, the

bright spot appeared to be a large but obscure road house. The expensive cars parked at the side showed,

Clyde had come in one of the cheap taxis so prevalent in Washington. He paid the driver, then entered the

front door of the Club Rivoli. A modestly furnished lounge showed on one side; on the other a small,

Clyde kept on through the hall. He came to a door farther on and rang a bell. A little wicket opened. Clyde

Bolts grated; the door opened. Clyde Burke passed through a small room. The chatter of people; the clicking

The place was a gambling hall. The patrons were dressed in evening clothes. Women as well as men were

gathered about two roulette tables where croupiers were spinning the wheels and raking in stacks of chips.

The near end of the room was lined with slot machines which took coins of halfdollar size. Several players

were squandering their cash in these devices. Along the other walls were little curtained booths to which busy

There was a single opening at the right. This, Clyde knew, led to rooms where poker players gambled for

high stakes. The office of Whistler Ingliss, the proprietor, was located in that direction. Clyde, however, was

The Shadow's agent was quick to note that most of the players were foreigners, with Spanish Americans

Clyde knew that the Club Rivoli catered chiefly to legations and visitors from other lands. A PanAmerican

convention was beginning in Washington; it was only natural that many of the visitors had learned of the

Clyde made a particular study of the Americans who were present. Taking a vantage point between the tables,

he studied his fellow countrymen one by one while he made a pretense of watching the roulette play.

WHILE Clyde was thus engaged, he became conscious of a soft, melodious whistling close beside him. The

sound took on a symphonic trill. Clyde turned quickly to see a man in evening clothes standing a few feet

away. He met the other's gaze and recognized the suave face of Whistler Ingliss, the proprietor of the Club

The recognition proved mutual. Ingliss smiled as he ceased his light trilling. He advanced and extended a

hand which Clyde accepted. Ingliss, a tall, goodlooking man in his middle forties, possessed a friendly

"Burke," remarked Ingliss. "That's the name, isn't it? I gave you a card the last time you were here."

"Right," agreed Clyde. "Thought I'd drop in and watch the roulette roll. Like most newspapermen" he was

"Quite all right," assured Ingliss. "My friends are welcome here to watch as well as to play. We want

Conversation ended for the moment. Ingliss, watching with Clyde, began to trill a meditative tune. There was

a charm about the soft music that came from the gambler's lips. It was this habit of melody making that had

In fact, the tune was provocative of a soothing lull. Clyde Burke began to feel as he had felt on his other visits

to the Club Rivoli: that the place was a mere pleasure resort which had no connection with any other

enterprise. He turned to speak again to Whistler Ingliss. At that moment, there was an interruption. An

"Card inside, sir," explained the attendant. "A gentleman came to see you by the side entrance. He sent this

Clyde watched warily while Whistler opened the envelope. He saw a sudden frown upon the gambler's brow

as Whistler removed and read the card. Clyde glanced away as Whistler raised his head.

From the corner of his eye, The Shadow's agent caught Whistler's quick look. Ingliss, apparently, wanted to

Seeing no indication on Clyde's part, Whistler calmly turned to the attendant. He began to tear the card and

The attendant left. Resuming his trill, Whistler Ingliss strolled from table to table. He had adopted a perfect

poker face. He showed no signs of hurry. Glancing toward Clyde Burke, Whistler noticed that the reporter

was looking at the other table. Strolling away, Whistler headed for the archway and passed slowly into the

THE gambler descended a short flight of steps. Here a passage went off to the right. Two doors one in each

passage indicated Whistler's office. The gambler opened the one from the central passage. He entered a

neatly furnished room. Seated beyond a desk was a languidlooking man; he rose to display his lankiness as

"Sit down, Dolband," suggested Ingliss, in a cordial tone. As the visitor obeyed, Ingliss took his own chair

and brought out a box of cigars. "Have a real Havana and tell me what's the trouble. This is kind of unusual

Dolband took a cigar. Whistler Ingliss eyed him as he bit the end. The gambler had met Carl Dolband in the

past. He knew the secretservice operative to be a cagey individual. The flicker of Dolband's match showed a

"Want to look at the cash in my till?" quizzed Whistler, in a crafty tone. "I've got plenty of mazuma but I'll

"I'm not bothering counterfeiters," interposed Dolband. "There's something else I want to talk about, Ingliss."

The gambler assumed a perplexed attitude. Carl Dolband, leaning back in his chair, spent a full minute in

studying Whistler's face. Then, satisfied, he began to speak in a confidential tone.

"How's business?" was his question. "Good receipts? Lots of people coming in and out?"

"Take a look," returned Whistler, with a smile, as he pulled a ledger from a desk drawer. "If it's income tax

"Don't worry about that," rejoined Dolband, as he studied the entries in the ledger. "Here this satisfies me.

Put the book away. The money is coming in all right that's all I wanted to know."

"I just wanted to be sure," stated Dolband, "that your joint was bringing in the gravy. I see that it is. So far as

your gambling racket is concerned, that's a matter for the State authorities. So far as I'm concerned, I wanted

to make sure that your place was doing so well that you'd like to keep it going. The reason I say that is

"A shakedown?" Dolband laughed as he completed the words that appeared to be on Whistler's tongue. "Not

a bit of it. I don't work that way, Ingliss. I'm after other game and I want to know what you know about it.

"Spill it, Dolband," urged Ingliss. "Say if there's anything I can do to help you on a job "

"You can," interrupted Dolband. "That's why I'm going to give you the exact lay. Listen, Ingliss: I'm on the

trail of a fellow who disappeared last night a man named Glade Tromboll. Did you ever hear of him?"

"Can't say that I have." Whistler shook his head. "I'd know the name if I'd heard it, Dolband. Who is

"A government employee," returned Dolband cautiously. "One who happened to have some important papers

on him. South American correspondence, Ingliss. There's a lot of South Americans come in here, aren't

"Not only that. Glade Tromboll, the man who is missing, was last seen just before he came to the Club

"I don't think he could have come here, Dolband." Whistler again shook his head as he spoke. "No one gets in

here without a card. If this fellow Tromboll cleared town, he must have done it before he headed for the Club

"Listen, Ingliss." Dolband's tone was severe. "I've got every reason to suppose that Glade Tromboll was here

last night. It's up to you to prove to the contrary. I want a close checkup and you've got to get it for me."

"It may be bad for you. I'm trying to be friendly, Ingliss, but I've got to report what I find. If you can convince

me that Tromboll wasn't here, I won't mention your place when I report. If he was here, find out what became

"But a halfway answer won't help you or me. I've traced Glade Tromboll to this club. I'm going to trace him

beyond. What can you do to help me especially when you know that you may be in a fix if you can't aid the

"Hmmm." Whistler became speculative. "Have you got a description of this fellow Tromboll?"

Dolband tossed a photograph upon the desk. Whistler examined it and shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't remember ever seeing this fellow," he remarked. "If he was out here last night, though, I'll find it out.

Things will ease off in the roulette room. Then I can talk to the attendants, one by one."

"Better not. Listen, Dolband, I'll do all I can to help you. I've got a good thing here; I don't want it spoiled.

You're sure, though" Whistler paused anxiously "that you haven't mentioned the Club Rivoli to anyone

"All right. Wait here about five minutes until I'm back in the roulette room. Then stroll out by the side door

you came in. By midnight, I'll be able to tell you all I can. If this mug" Whistler had picked up the

Whistler turned and walked from the office. He closed the door behind him. He strolled toward the steps that

led up to the roulette room. He was trilling a familiar tune as he walked along.

Whistler stopped moving just after he gained the roulette room. His whistle, however, trilled a trifle more

CLYDE BURKE, eyeing the doorway where Whistler stood, saw a motion at one of the curtained booths not

more than ten feet from the spot that Whistler had chosen. Two men in tuxedos stepped out. Clyde could see

Indifferently, the two men strolled past Whistler. The gambler did not appear to notice them. The two men

went through the doorway that led to the cardrooms and to the office. Another pair in appearance they

Whistler Ingliss was strolling to the roulette tables. He passed within a few feet of Clyde Burke. Whistler's

tune had lessened; it still carried an intriguing obbligato. The men who had gone through the doorway did not

Minutes passed. Clyde Burke, feeling conspicuous, approached a roulette table. He took his stand close to the

spot where Whistler Ingliss, now silent, was watching the play. Clyde produced a small roll of bills and

Whistler Ingliss had strolled away. The men had not returned from the direction in which they had gone,

although fully a half hour had passed. Clyde decided that they must have left the Club Rivoli by the side

Clyde left by the front. He called a taxi that was outside. Riding back to Washington, The Shadow's agent

stared from the window. Almost unseeing, he viewed the glow about the dome of the capitol building; with

no impression he gazed toward the Washington Monument, which towered fingerlike amid its encircling

Beating through Clyde's brain was the lilt of that final melody that had come from the lips of Whistler Ingliss.

Somehow, Clyde Burke attached significance to that tune which had throbbed simultaneously with the

Clyde Burke vainly sought the answer. He had gained an inkling of the truth. The whistled tune had been a

signal, of that Clyde felt certain; but the purpose had escaped him. He did not know that Whistler Ingliss,

with his trilling lilt, had signed a death warrant for Carl Dolband of the secret service!

ON the following evening, a tall, keenfaced man arrived in the lobby of the Hotel Starlett. A bell boy took

his bags. The arrival registered as Henry Arnaud and asked for a room that fronted on the side toward The

When he reached his room, Henry Arnaud tipped the bell boy. He placed his suitcase upon the bed. A thin

smile appeared upon lips that were firm beneath a hawklike nose. As soon as the bell boy was gone, Henry

The room had French windows that opened on a balcony. Arnaud approached them in the darkness and drew

the two sections inward. A dim glow came from the city; the rolling of traffic sounded from the street below.

Moving stealthily through the semidarkness of the room, Arnaud reached the spot where he had placed the

There was motion in the gloom. Black cloth swung like a shroud above a head. Something swished as a

blackcloaked figure approached the balcony. A tall, silhouetted form appeared within the rail; its shape was

The Shadow had come to Washington. From the balcony on the eighth floor of the Hotel Starlett, he was

staring across the open spaces toward the tremendous obelisk which forms the most conspicuous landmark in

Shrouded in the darkness of the balcony, The Shadow turned his keen gaze directly upward. The balcony

above seemed to lure him to a test. Long arms stretched upward; gloved hands gripped the projection.

Invisible against the darkened brick front of the hotel, The Shadow swung outward, high above the street. His

gripping arms were firm; his strong arms drew his lithe body toward the objective. A dozen seconds later,

A projecting cornice formed a line between this balcony and the next. The same arrangement continued along

the entire wall of the building. Pressing close to the wall, The Shadow swung over the rail. With firm,

sidewise step, he moved to the next balcony. He crossed it and continued to the balcony beyond. There his

A light showed beyond the curtains of the French windows. The Shadow's hand tested the barrier. Inch by

inch the windows spread until they formed a crevice through which peering eyes could see.

The Shadow spied a rotund, baldheaded man seated at a writing desk. Beside this individual was an opened

THE SHADOW knew the identity of this man. That was why The Shadow had chosen to register at the Hotel

Starlett, under the name of Henry Arnaud. The man at the writing table was Fulton Fourrier, a divisional chief

In response to Clyde Burke's report, The Shadow had come to Washington. Knowing, through Clyde's

statement of Glade Tromboll's disappearance that this was a case for the secret service, The Shadow had

Long minutes passed. The Shadow's vigil went unrewarded until a telephone rang beside the writing table.

Fourrier answered it. The Shadow heard him give instructions to come up to the room. The Shadow waited.

There was a rap a short while later. Fourrier arose and waddled to the door. He opened it to admit a stocky,

heavyset man whose stolid countenance announced him as one who dealt with decisive action.

A soft, almost inaudible laugh came from The Shadow's lips. The watching phantom at the window had

expected the very man who had appeared. The stocky individual was Vic Marquette, secretservice

Fourrier was brusque as he waved his visitor to a chair. The chief finished his reports; then wheeled and

The Shadow viewed their profiles: Fourrier, though pudgynosed and concave in features, had a firmset

Words came to The Shadow's ears; it did not matter when the distant rumble of a passing vehicle drowned

them. The Shadow's eyes were upon moving lips, reading them as plainly as though they had been speaking

"No," returned Fourrier soberly. "I don't like it. He should have reported tonight. So far as I can learn, he did

"I know it." Fourrier arose to his feet and stood with arms akimbo. "Vic, I shouldn't have put Dolband on that

"The same thing that happened to Tromboll, whatever that is. The same that happened to the others. We

"I gave Dolband carte blanche. I told him to work alone until he got something. That's where I made my

mistake sending Dolband out alone. Poor fellow; I'm afraid he's gone, Vic. It was a great mistake sending

"I don't quite get you, chief. You say first that you shouldn't have sent Carl alone then you say that you

"I mean," interposed Fourrier soberly, "that I should not have sent Carl Dolband at all. It was a oneman job

and he was the wrong man. I used Carl because he was a smooth operative. I know now that that was a

"This job requires one man, and it wants a chap who can take care of whatever comes along. There's just one

THE operative stared. Vic Marquette had not expected this assignment. He was, in a sense, new to work in

Vic had dealt with the toughest of cases. He had landed Reds and counterfeiters. The work of secret assassins

who struck from under cover was something that fazed him for the moment. Fulton Fourrier seemed to read

"It worries you, doesn't it, Vic?" questioned the divisional chief. "Well, don't let it throw you, old man.

You've dealt with cutthroats before. They're all alike no matter how smooth they seem. At the same time,

"You've got a great record, Vic. You've tackled them alone, out in the sticks, when all the odds were against

you. But I'll tell you something right now: here in Washington, with thousands of people about you, with

police as well as secretservice men to aid you, you're going to be in the greatest danger you've ever faced.

"We've linked five cases. Bolero Piscano both of them were South American attaches. Their papers went

with them. Rexton and Clifford like Tromboll were Americans. But all of them had documents pertaining

to South America. It's part of the same plot and we can't even guess what it is."

"It looks like it," admitted Fourrier. "Yet where's the game? Some important documents were stolen; but

murder seems an overstrong measure to obtain them. The people behind this game are using measures that

"I'll tell you the nature of those stolen papers. They consisted chiefly of correspondence between South

American ambassadors, our state department and the official governments of the countries involved. Singly,

not one document is worth a picayune. Assembled, they might mean calamity. That's why we know that the

"Who's behind it? Don't ask me. I can only tell you that they're not through yet. If they're springing

something, they'll have to get more than they have. If I cut loose to stop them, they'll close up like clams. The

"That's why it's a oneman job. Dolband was after it in the right way. He was due to get results. They got him

instead. That's why it's your job, Vic. Frankly, I expect you to blunder. Dolband must have blundered. Any

man I put on the job will blunder. You're the one man who can get yourself out of a jam."

Fourrier paused. He turned toward the French windows. He seemed to notice that they were ajar. He moved

THE SHADOW did not stir. Fourrier changed his mind as he neared the windows. He swung and pointed

"Vic," he declared solemnly, "any man who goes into this is likely to get himself into a terrible situation. The

man who gets into it and out of it will bring back the goods on the people we want.

"I'm giving you the same lead I gave Dolband. Get to the spots where you're liable to find South Americans.

Not around the embassies, but elsewhere. That's how Dolband started. He never came back with his report. Is

"That's plenty, chief," asserted Marquette, rising. "Dolband talked Spanish; so do I. I'll stay at the Hotel

"I'm counting on you, Vic," nodded Fourrier. "Let me know any data you may need. I'll be ready to help out."

As Vic Marquette turned toward the door, Fourrier swung toward the French windows. He pressed the

As the windows clicked, a form moved upon the balcony. It rose over the edge, followed the cornice, then

swung from the edge of a balcony beyond. Swaying outward; then in to the wall, The Shadow loosed his

A soft laugh sounded from the windows of the room which Henry Arnaud had taken. A weird, whispered

tone, that laugh was carried through the cool night air. The strange mirth, restrained in volume, was as

Vic Marquette had started on a dangerous task. Alone, he was sallying forth to seek the answer to six

Yet in his task, Vic Marquette would not be alone. Paralleling the efforts of the secretservice operative

The Shadow, too, had taken instructions from Fulton Fourrier. Invisible investigator of the night, the

THE next morning, a taxicab pulled up before the door of Darvin Rochelle's massive residence. A portly,

redfaced man alighted and noted the banner which hung above the entrance. He recognized its odd insignia

Ascending the steps, the visitor rang the bell. A servant admitted him. The man looked curiously about the

The servant went upstairs. He rang the door of the anteroom. A buzzer clicked. The servant went through the

anteroom to find Darvin Rochelle seated behind his office desk. The man with the limp was dictating letters

"Ah! Excellent," exclaimed Rochelle. "Tell him to come up at once. Usher him here right away."

Rochelle nodded to the stenographer and motioned toward the door. The girl followed the attendant.

As soon as the door to the anteroom had closed, Rochelle pressed the secret buzzer. The door at the rear of

Rochelle went to the door of the anteroom. He turned and spoke low, jargoned words, in the language which

Rochelle opened the door of the anteroom and crossed the outer apartment. As he opened the door to the hall,

"Welcome," declared Rochelle, extending his hand. "Come into my office, Mr. Herkimer."

HERKIMER received the handshake. Rochelle hobbled through the anteroom and leaned on his cane while

he opened the door to the office. Herkimer entered. Rochelle followed and guided his visitor to a chair at the

Thurk had disappeared. Rochelle, seating himself behind the desk, was alone with the man who had come to

Croydon Herkimer was fascinated by the appearance of the office. He turned to eye the massive globe behind

his left shoulder. His gaze roamed to the expensive mirror across the room. It finally reached the desk; then

"Yes," returned Herkimer. "This peace alliance business appears to be profitable."

"The International Peace Alliance," he declared, "has many worthy contributors. Ours is a philanthropic

enterprise, Mr. Herkimer. At the same time, we have money to spend for those whom we consider to be in

"That's why I came to Washington," returned Herkimer bluntly. "I hope you remember the terms of the

agreement that you sent me. Here is the itemized list for the goods on which I negotiated. I am to receive the

"Exactly." Rochelle smiled as he took the list. He checked item after item; then looked up with a quizzical

"Quite odd," remarked Rochelle. He drew another list from his desk drawer. "I gave you this assignment, Mr.

Herkimer, because I anticipated that you could obtain better prices in the Middle West. At the same time, I

"Flour for the Far East. Woolen goods to Turkey and Armenia. Machinery to South America. On all these

items you are higher. Why, the total of my list is sixty thousand less than yours. I expected it to be twenty

A stern look appeared upon Croydon Herkimer's bloated face. The portly man said nothing as he adjusted a

pair of spectacles to his nose. He drew a paper from his pocket, unfolded it and began to read.

"This is your letter, Mr. Rochelle," he declared at last. "My lawyers in Chicago tell me that it constitutes a

contract. Your International Peace Alliance will be liable to a lawsuit if it fails to go through with these

"A lawsuit?" quizzed Rochelle. "For what sum, Mr. Herkimer the amount of your commission twelve

"Naturally." Darvin Rochelle laughed harshly. "For the amount, I presume, that you intended to take as graft.

SEIZING his cane, Rochelle arose to his feet. With his left hand, he pointed an accusing forefinger at the man

"One hundred and sixty thousand dollars,'' announced Rochelle, "should be the purchasing price that you

require. Instead, you ask two hundred and forty. That means a profit to you of eighty thousand to say

nothing of the exorbitant commission you would receive twelve thousand against the eight which is your

"I have your figures, Herkimer." Rochelle's teeth gleamed in a sudden, vicious smile. "They are all the proof

that I need. They fit in" Rochelle triumphantly produced a file of papers "with these!"

Herkimer stared at the packet in Rochelle's hand. The man with the cane laughed in raucous fashion.

"Mr. Croydon Herkimer!" Rochelle sneered as he announced the name. "Wartime profiteer the man who

made half a million by swindling the United States government then lost it through foolish speculation. I

wanted to test you, Herkimer. I did. I have found you out. Herkimer" Rochelle's tone was lowered "I

Croydon Herkimer was trembling. Slouched in his chair, the portly man stared bewildered. He looked as

though he wanted to snatch the file of papers from Rochelle's hand. Leering, Rochelle forestalled such effort.

"There are duplicates," he laughed. "The original portfolio is in my safe. Back to your old game, eh,

Terror showed on Herkimer's bulbous face. Rochelle threw the file of papers on the desk. Dropping his cane,

he squared in his chair and leaned both elbows on the desk while he tilted his head forward.

"I tested you, Herkimer," he said, in a new and confidential tone, "because I need you. Do you understand? I

need you. Not for this list. Bah!" Rochelle tossed aside the tabulations that Herkimer had given him. "That is

trifling. Take your eightyfour thousand and let the peace hounds pay for it. That is the blind for the real

"War, Herkimer! There lies the real profit. Millions, man! Think of this a continent at war munitions and

supplies coming from a single source! You and I tapping the unending spring of wealth. Does that interest

Herkimer's jaw had dropped. The man was gaping in profound astonishment. Rochelle arose, seized his cane

and hobbled around the desk. Herkimer turned and watched him reach the big globe.

ROCHELLE spun the sphere, then stopped it. With his left hand he pointed to the enlarged map of South

"Here is my plan," he asserted with a gleaming grin. "Bolivia and Paraguay are at war. Why? Over a strip of

useless land called Gran Chaco. A boundary dispute which seems small to us here in the States but it is

"Let us start here with Colombia. That country has never forgotten Panama. Should Colombia begin a war,

mediation from the United States would be of no avail. What has Colombia to gain? This portion of Brazil.

"Ecuador, which adjoins Colombia, claims this portion of Peru. Suppose that those two nations should be

stirred to work together, each to claim its own desired portion of another country. I shall tell you exactly what

Rochelle's finger ran down the map to indicate a territory marked Acre, on the Brazilian side of the Peruvian

"Brazil and Peru," he stated, "would settle their boundary dispute in amicable fashion, so that they could form

a natural alliance to resist Colombia and Ecuador. Bolivia, who feels that Paraguay started the Gran Chaco

dispute, would join the alliance. So would Venezuela, for that country claims a portion of Colombia.

"Four countries: Brazil, Venezuela, Peru, and Bolivia, forming a belt across South America. Listen to the

next step. Bolivia and Peru, gaining tremendous power and backing, would seek to regain the territory that

they lost to Chile during the disastrous War of 1879 to 1883. Bolivia would seek Antofagasta, the port that

"A continent at war! All except Argentina and Uruguay, with reason to suppose that they would become

embroiled in conflict. In every country, Jingoists would rule. And I, Herkimer" Rochelle swelled proudly

Croydon Herkimer was gripping the arms of his chair. Darvin Rochelle's change from enmity to friendship

had captured the profiteer's imagination. Herkimer was nodding like a toy figure, drinking in every word that

"South America," resumed Rochelle, in a tone both confident and persuasive, "would become a vast empire.

Only through that step could peace be guaranteed. Those out of power would come in for official

"I shall be the emperor," announced Darvin Rochelle, in a solemn tone. "By proxy, perhaps even, if

circumstances so decide, through my affiliation with different men who will rule portions of the continent.

But whatever the ultimate outcome, I shall be the controller. I shall be heralded as a bringer of peace I the

TURNING from the spot where he stood, Rochelle gave the mammoth globe a parting spin. While the sphere

revolved, the dreamer of empires stumped back to his chair behind the desk. Crouching there, he eyed

"Remember!" Rochelle's tone carried a fierce warning. "I hold you helpless, Herkimer!" The speaker

clenched his fist with a crushing motion. "I am giving you the opportunity to gain millions only because your

"As soon as war is launched, we shall begin a tremendous scale of profiteering. By building fortunes while

war is in progress, I shall be able to dominate when peace arrives. You will be rewarded for your part."

"Remain in Washington. While you are here, prepare a complete scheme for the furnishing of padded

supplies to the nations which will be at war. When men fight, they forget expense. Munitions, tractors, field

equipment, uniforms everything, Herkimer, must be provided. You will be my appointed agent to handle

Rochelle arose and limped to the front of the desk. He gripped Herkimer's arm and drew the visitor toward

the anteroom. All the way to the marble steps, Rochelle was buzzing encouragement into his new agent's ear.

"The scheme is ready," was his final statement. "I have gained nearly all that I require. The making of war is

my task; the reaping of the harvest will be yours. But remember!" Again Rochelle's voice took on its tone of

"I am with you," affirmed Herkimer, in a positive tone. "With you, Rochelle, to the finish!"

The man with the limp rested on his cane while he watched his portly visitor descend the marble staircase.

Then, with a quick twist of his body, he swung back toward the anteroom, halting with each of his peculiar

When the stenographer arrived in Rochelle's office, in answer to a ring, she found the head of the

International Peace Alliance beaming benignly as he sat behind his mahogany desk. The mask of kindness

had replaced the face of evil. Once again, Darvin Rochelle had become an advocate of worldwide peace.

There was no sign of Thurk, the dwarf. The monster who aided the fiendish master had departed. Schemes of

murder were on the shelf. Darvin Rochelle, man of integrity, was ready to resume his day's routine in the

THE brilliance of early evening had come anew to Washington. Darvin Rochelle's headquarters showed

somber in the gloom of its side street when a young man, strolling from the bright lights, ascended the steps

He was evidently an expected visitor, for the door swung open as he arrived. The servant who served as usher

bowed and indicated the marble stairs. The young man ascended. He pressed a button at the entrance to the

A minute passed. The door popped open. Darvin Rochelle, leaning upon his cane, smiled a cheery greeting as

"Maurice Twindell!" exclaimed the man with the limp. "Come in my friend. Come in."

Rochelle led the way into the office. He took his place behind the desk. The young man seated himself at the

In the light of the office, Maurice Twindell presented a gentlemanly appearance. His evening clothes were

faultless. His face, friendly in appearance, was a handsome one. His only fault was a shiftiness of gaze a

"Tonight," began Rochelle in a quiet, but emphatic tone, "I want you to go out to the Club Rivoli. Play the

"Yes." Rochelle smiled. "There will be a victim. I have arranged, however, for Anita Debronne to take care of

"You have done your share, Maurice," he said reflectively. "Bolero, Rexton, and Tromboll. Anita, however,

has figured in only two cases: those of Piscano and Clifford. It is her turn again tonight."

"A young chap named Lito Carraza. Anita arranged to meet him early. Hence he has committed the folly of

not going back to his embassy. He will have papers which he was supposed to copy. He does not know their

"Tonight, Maurice, I want you to be cordial to any SpanishAmericans whom you may chance to meet. There

will be convention delegates at the Club Rivoli. Make friends with any who may be of use."

The telephone rang as Rochelle completed his statement. Rochelle picked up the instrument. He listened to

"Key zay kire golo?" His tone was questioning. "Sovo... Fee... Kay zay rike. Kay deek rema... Fee. Alk fare

Rochelle hung up the receiver. He turned to Twindell, who put a casual question, pointing to the telephone as

"Yes," returned Rochelle. "Anita is out at the Club Rivoli. I told Whistler you would be there soon.

Remember what I have told you, Twindell. Keep your eyes open at the Rivoli. So far, I have confined our

work to definite tasks. Now, with the goal in sight, we may need special information; we may also be able to

ROCHELLE was tapping thoughtfully upon the table. His conversation with Whistler Ingliss had brought a

"A few nights ago," remarked Rochelle, "Whistler was forced to dispose of a troublesome visitor. The man

was a secretservice operative. He came to the Club Rivoli to question Whistler regarding Glade Tromboll."

Maurice Twindell started in momentary alarm. He regained his composure and stared hard at Rochelle.

"Bugs Ritler was at the Club Rivoli," resumed Rochelle, "with members of his crew. Whistler gave Bugs the

signal. Bugs did the rest. Whistler called me afterward, to tell me how he had acted. I commended him upon

"That is why I phoned you, Maurice, and told you, in Agro, to stay away from here until this evening. The

fact that a secretservice man had gotten as far as the Club Rivoli made it advisable for us to be cautious.

"However, there has been no recurrence. Whistler is sure that Dolband the secretservice man was

working on his own. If another investigator should take up the trail, Whistler may be forced to act again.

"So be wary, Maurice. Call me before you visit. Use Agro as usual; and avoid mention of names over the

wire. Initials in Agro of those whom we know will suffice; for strangers, spell the names in Agro letters."

Rochelle opened a drawer as he finished speaking. He pulled a stack of bills into view and tossed the money

to Twindell. The young man's face gleamed. There was a thousand dollars in the bundle.

"Keep track of any losses if you play roulette," reminded Rochelle. "I shall make them good, as usual. If you

win keep the profits for yourself. But remember do not play too heavily. It would not look well."

Maurice Twindell nodded as he pocketed the money. An avaricious smile appeared upon the young man's

He knew Twindell's weakness. He had bought this man as he had bought others. Rochelle indulged in a

chuckle as the door of the anteroom closed behind the departing form of Maurice Twindell.

Outside of Rochelle's mansion, Maurice Twindell strolled to the nearest avenue. There he hailed a taxicab.

He ordered the driver to take him to the Club Rivoli, across the Potomac. The cab rolled along. Twindell,

lighting a cigarette, stared from the window as the cab passed the Hotel Starlett.

ODDLY, a taxi parked close to that hotel had just picked up a passenger for the same destination that

Twindell had chosen. The driver of the second vehicle, however, had not been hailed from the street.

His first inkling that he had a passenger came when a voice spoke quietly from the rear seat of the parked

cab. A whispered monotone ordered the taximan to drive over the Potomac to the Club Rivoli.

The driver started his cab. He wondered, as he drove along, how that passenger had entered without his

hearing. The cab driver had been quite alert, watching for possible passengers. Had he known the identity of

The passenger was The Shadow. He, too, had chosen the Club Rivoli as his objective. The Shadow had

divined the truth of Carl Dolband's disappearance. It had not taken him long to gain that trail.

Since his arrival in Washington, The Shadow had received a report from Clyde Burke. It had told of

mysterious happenings which Clyde had observed at the Club Rivoli. The Shadow had spotted hidden crime.

Coupled to this was the talk that The Shadow had overheard between Vic Marquette and Fulton Fourrier.

Clyde's report of a special visitor to see Whistler Ingliss; the departure of men who looked like thugs these

had been sufficient for The Shadow to assume that Carl Dolband had met with misfortune at the gay night

Moreover, the Club Rivoli was a logical spot. It was a meeting place that attracted many South Americans.

This was not the first visit that The Shadow was making to the gambling hall run by Whistler Ingliss. He had

The Shadow's cab made a rapid trip. The driver pulled up near the front door of the Club Rivoli. A hand came

through the partition and tendered a bill. The driver took it and began to make change. When he looked for

Perplexed, the driver scratched his head; then pocketed the bill that he had received and started the trip back

As the cab swerved in the driveway, its headlights threw a beam toward a walk that led to the little used side

entrance of the Club Rivoli. Long streaks of shaded blackness showed in the gleam. The driver did not notice

When the cab had passed, however, there was motion at the spot where the driver had viewed nothing but

blackened streaks. There was a slight swish in the darkness. A being who moved with invisible stealth was

A SPECTRAL form reached a locked doorway. A slight click marked The Shadow's prying efforts with a

pick. The door opened. The Shadow entered the little side passage that led by the office which Whistler

Reaching the secluded door of the office, The Shadow performed another silent operation with the pick. The

door opened inward, by inches. Peering eyes gazed into the lighted office. The room was empty. The door

With ghostly strides, the mysterious visitant ascended the short flight of steps. He paused by a niche just

before he reached the roulette room. Here, totally unseen, he watched, his tall, blackgarbed form merged

The roulette room was well thronged. Yet The Shadow, with piercing gaze, singled out each person one by

He spied Whistler Ingliss, standing near a roulette table. Beyond, he saw Clyde Burke. The newspaperman

Farther away, The Shadow observed a third man. It was Vic Marquette. The secretservice operative was

wearing a tuxedo. He was playing the part of a chance visitor to the Club Rivoli. A soft laugh came in an

Vic Marquette was playing a wise game. He was one operative who was not known in Washington. He had

not made the blunder of announcing himself to Whistler Ingliss. Like Carl Dolband, Vic Marquette had

picked the Club Rivoli as a spot to watch; but he was following a course that showed discretion.

New patrons were entering the club. The Shadow spotted them with steady gaze. One was a young man in

faultless evening attire. It was Maurice Twindell. The Shadow's eye followed the direction of Twindell's

gaze. He saw the young man stare toward Whistler Ingliss; he caught the gambler's return glance. That was

Then, with a quick turn of direction that seemed intuitive, The Shadow stared toward a booth on the other

side of the room. A waiter was approaching with a tray that held bottles and glasses.

A curtain opened; The Shadow sighted two persons within. One was a woman, whose lighted cigarette

formed a white streak before her handsome, darkcomplexioned face. The other was a young man whose

Once again, The Shadow caught a momentary exchange of glances. The woman's gaze went toward Whistler

The Shadow had spotted Anita Debronne, the second of Darvin Rochelle's agents. A soft laugh came from

The Shadow's lips. It stilled as Whistler Ingliss came across the roulette room, heading for the passage in

which The Shadow stood. The gambler passed within two feet of the spot where the lurking watcher waited

The Shadow followed. Whistler had entered the office through the door from the main passage. The Shadow

took the other way. He softly opened the side door and peered into the office. Whistler was seated at his desk,

Evidently, Whistler was here to stay a while. The gambler did not know that he was under observation. He

A clock on the wall beyond Whistler's desk showed twentyfive minutes after nine. Slowly, the door closed;

its lock turned noiselessly. The Shadow's form dwindled as it moved toward the end of the passage, to the

A FEW minutes later, Clyde Burke strolled from the roulette room. He, too, had noted the time; he had

observed the big clock in the gambling hall. Clyde was following instructions a mysterious message which

Posted at the Club Rivoli, Clyde was supposed to stroll to the front veranda at half hour intervals from nine

Reaching the spacious veranda, Clyde extracted a cigarette from his pocket and placed it between his lips.

Standing by a rail near the steps beyond him darkness Clyde felt positive that eyes were studying him. He

Someone, from beyond the rail, had placed this message here during the brief interval between Clyde's

removal of the cigarette and his reaching for the match. The envelope could be but from one source: The

Clyde opened the envelope. He removed a folded sheet of paper. He brought a match from his pocket, struck

it to light his cigarette, and at the same time unfolded the message. By the glare of the match he saw coded

Vivid blue ink faded as Clyde finished his perusal of The Shadow's message. Puffing his cigarette, The

Shadow's agent thrust the blank paper and envelope in his pocket, as he strolled back into the Club Rivoli.

Clyde Burke had observed all persons mentioned. He had suspected nothing regarding any of them. It had

remained for the Shadow to discover the participants in the new drama of crime that was unfolding at the

The Shadow had departed somewhere in the darkness. Clyde Burke, as his agent, was intrusted with the

Agents of murder were at work. The hand of their hidden employer was concealed. The Shadow had found

no lead to Darvin Rochelle. Yet The Shadow knew that any deeds of crime would begin here at the Club

It was his purpose to match the schemer's craft with his own. Before this night was ended, The Shadow

would deliver the first counterthrust to the plotting of an insidious supercrook.

NEW patrons were arriving in the roulette room of the Club Rivoli when Clyde Burke returned. The

Shadow's agent noted a predominance of South Americans. He realized that more arrivals in Washington

were paying a visit to the exclusive gambling place maintained by Whistler Ingliss.

Clyde quickly spotted the two persons whom The Shadow's message had mentioned as being at the roulette

tables. Maurice Twindell whose name Clyde did not know was gambling heavily on the turn of the

Clyde drifted toward the booth which The Shadow had marked. As he neared that spot, he spied a newspaper

correspondent entering the roulette room. Clyde waved to his friend; the other journalist approached.

"Hitting bad luck," laughed Clyde. "Just about ready to try a sandwich. How about you, Logan?"

Clyde drew back the curtain of booth five. He found it empty. He invited his friend to enter. Logan complied.

Clyde took the seat that adjoined booth six. He left the curtain of his own booth open so that he could watch

what happened in the roulette room. Logan seemed interested in the gambling. Thus, as the two men awaited

the arrival of a waiter, Clyde could overhear the buzz of conversation that came from the next booth.

A man and a woman were talking. They were speaking in English the man, however, had a foreign accent.

Clyde caught the name "Anita;" a few moments later, he heard the woman address her companion as "Lito;"

Clyde was making progress by the time sandwiches and cool drinks had arrived. He knew that a South

American named Lito Carraza was in the next booth; his companion a woman called Anita. Moreover, from

snatches of conversation, Clyde was sure that Lito Carraza was an attache of some South American legation.

Thus Clyde was content to keep no more than an occasional watch upon the two men at different roulette

tables. He knew that the more important quest lay here. He listened for any bit of talk that might give

information. Bits of Spanish, intermingled in the conversation between Carraza and Anita, made the task

MAURICE TWINDELL was having poor luck at roulette. The tall dilettante stepped back from the table and

strolled about in dejected fashion. He glanced at various players, nodded to occasional South Americans who

Here Twindell noted considerable commotion. Among the players was a tall South American who was

leaning forward with a gleaming smile. The man's sallow face showed keen delight at the success which he

"Caramba!" The exclamation came from a watcher. "The man has luck. Diablo! He has won a thousand pesos

"Alvarez Menzone." Twindell heard the name. "From the Argentine, they say. Each night that he has come

Twindell studied Menzone. He knew that the shrewdfaced South American was probably a visitor who had

come to the PanAmerican Convention. The man had money; he was willing to hazard it. He was the very

Edging close to Menzone, Twindell obtained a stack of chips. Menzone, clicking his own chips, began to set

them in methodical fashion: some on the odd, others on the black; finally a stack of chips on the corners of

As the wheel began to whirl, Twindell duplicated the other's hazard. Menzone looked toward the American

and gave him a gleaming smile. The wheel came to its stop. The ball was resting in a pocket that was odd and

The croupier pushed chips across the table. Menzone collected his in matteroffact fashion. Twindell

"You share my luck, eh?" Menzone spoke in excellent, but accented English as he looked toward Twindell.

"Well senor, let us try again. Two hundred pesos one hundred of your dollars upon the odd. One hundred

pesos here" Menzone's longnailed fingers hovered above the squares "upon the No. 13!"

Others, about to follow Menzone's bet, hesitated superstitiously at the choice of the No. 13. They were not

willing to hazard their money on the doubtful odds offered by a single square. Twindell, however, did not

The exclamation came from Alvarez Menzone, as the wheel ended its spin. The ball was resting beside the

Menzone had won more than fifteen hundred dollars on a single turn of the wheel. Twindell, by following

WITH eagerness unrepressed, Twindell awaited Menzone's next wager. The darkfaced South American

Menzone pushed his accumulated winnings toward the croupier, with a gesture that signified that he wished

his chips to be cashed. The croupier was quick to comply. He had been wondering when Menzone's winning

In fact, Whistler Ingliss had appeared, summoned by news that a lucky player had started out to break the

bank. Seeing Menzone cashing in his chips; observing Twindell by the South American's side, Whistler

"We have been lucky, amigo," laughed Menzone, clapping Twindell on the back. "We must not expect luck

to last forever. Another night, I shall try. Should you be here to follow me perhaps you may win if I should

"Si, senor." Twindell paused as he was counting the money that he had received. Then, in Spanish, he added:

Menzone's eyes lighted as he heard these words in his native tongue. He nodded in reply to Twindell's

question. Twindell watched as he saw Menzone add his winnings to a large roll of bills all of high

"I have other friends from South America," purred Twindell, in excellent Spanish. "It is a pleasure to meet

"And mine" Menzone was receiving Twindell's handshake as they stepped away from the roulette table

New players were thronging about the table which the two had left. Twindell and Menzone were forgotten by

The secretservice operative had kept his eye on Alvarez Menzone from the moment of the South American's

arrival. He had watched Menzone win; he had observed the approach of Maurice Twindell.

Moreover, Marquette had heard the introduction which the two had exchanged. He knew their names; and he

was convinced that of all persons at the roulette tables, these two particularly Menzone would bear

The two were strolling toward the front door of the roulette room. Warily, Vic Marquette followed. Clyde

Burke, watching from his booth, felt a secret satisfaction. He could not follow Maurice Twindell and still

remain here at the Club Rivoli. The fact that Vic Marquette was on Twindell's trail relieved Clyde Burke.

An odd culmination! To Clyde Burke, Alvarez Menzone was simply a man accompanying Maurice Twindell.

WHEN the two men reached the driveway in front of the Club Rivoli, they hailed a taxi. There were several

cabs in view, for this resort was a profitable place to pick up fares. As soon as the cab had started, Vic

Marquette hurried from the veranda. He entered the second vehicle. He flashed a badge in front of the driver's

The driver obeyed. In response to Vic's occasional growls for caution, he kept well behind the other cab until

Bridge traffic became heavy as the cabs neared the glowing city. Near the long block of buildings of the

Bureau of Engraving, Vic's cab closed in on the taxi ahead. When the glare of bluelighted windows had

been passed, the second cab was so close behind the first that Vic could distinguish the heads of Maurice

The lead cab passed the monument. It threaded its way along cross streets until it reached one of the broad

avenues that form the pattern of a spider's web upon the map of Washington. The cab swung along the

Vic Marquette, peering almost from the driver's side, observed that neither Twindell nor Menzone were

conscious that they were being followed. Their cab took another side street. It pulled up near a secluded

Vic growled to his own driver to slow down, then to stop. The secretservice man alighted half a block

Alvarez Menzone and Maurice Twindell appeared upon the sidewalk. The cab waited at Twindell's bidding

while the two were concluding a conversation. Vic Marquette, approaching, could overhear their talk, which

"Not for some time to come." Menzone wore an odd smile as he spoke. "Perhaps not at all. I have found the

"It is an expensive city in which to live; one that offers very little opportunity, except to those connected with

"Expensive yes." Menzone laughed. "My apartment on the third floor of this building costs much more than

I ever paid in Buenos Aires. But there are times, senor, when extravagance brings return."

Menzone's lips were smiling as the South American placed a cigarette between them. Menzone applied a

"Buenos noches," he said to Maurice Twindell. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, amigo mio. Let me

"We shall," responded Twindell, as he turned toward his cab. "Buenos noches, senor."

Menzone, still puffing his cigarette, remained watching while the taxi pulled away. Then the South American

turned and entered the apartment building. Hardly had he disappeared before Vic Marquette followed.

THE lobby was a pretentious one. It lacked attendants, however, and Vic Marquette strolled about for a few

minutes, undecided whether he should pay a visit to the third floor. Finally, the secretservice man decided to

Leaving the apartment house, Vic stopped on the sidewalk and noted the name above the door. He drew pad

and pencil from his pocket. Methodically, he jotted down the name: Athena Court.

Even then, Vic was loath to leave the vicinity. He went across the street and stared toward the third floor,

hoping that he might be able to locate the apartment occupied by Alvarez Menzone. Failing to gain any clew,

the secretservice man stepped out into the street and whistled to a cab that was coming along.

As the cab rolled away, there was motion in the gloom at the side of Athena Court. From a narrow, cement

passageway that led toward a rear fire tower, appeared a figure garbed in black. Outlined by dim light, this

A soft laugh came from hidden lips. The Shadow had observed Vic Marquette's actions. He had heard the

order given by the secretservice operative. He knew that Vic Marquette did not intend to follow Menzone

More than that: The Shadow knew that Vic had not concerned himself with the affairs of Maurice Twindell.

Should Vic, in the future, come to deal with Twindell, it would result because of Vic's keen interest in the

Strange trails had begun tonight. Clyde Burke, back at the Club Rivoli, was watching two persons in booth

six. Vic Marquette had taken up the trail of Alvarez Menzone. The Shadow, too, had found a quarry.

Unknown even to Clyde Burke, The Shadow had left the Club Rivoli with the express purpose of watching

After Twindell's parting with Menzone, The Shadow's course had changed. His figure, moving swiftly away

CLYDE BURKE was alone in the booth at the Club Rivoli. Logan had strolled away to play roulette. Clyde

had dropped the curtain. He had been listening intently to the conversation which he had heard from the

"So sorry, Lito." The woman's voice was speaking. "I thought we could stay here for a few hours longer. I

"It is nearly eleven," came Carraza's reply. "I must go to the legation. I was told to be there by ten. It is

"Si, senorita. They were to have been copied. I shall have to say that I did not have time."

"The papers will be placed in the safe. Perhaps I shall be told to continue my copying tomorrow. Perhaps the

"Can't you return here?" Anita's tone was urging. "Leave the papers, senor. Come back to see me. I shall play

"Very well." Carraza's tone was one of agreement. "But I must go quite soon. A few turns of roulette; then I

Clyde Burke rose from his seat. He opened the curtain and strolled toward a roulette table. He realized that a

prompt report to The Shadow would be essential. The clock in the gaming room showed five minutes before

eleven. If only The Shadow would be outside by the veranda at the end of his half hour!

THUS thinking, Clyde swung from the table and moved toward the outer door. An attendant was talking in a

telephone booth; the man dropped the receiver and turned toward the roulette tables. At the same moment, he

"Ah!" exclaimed the attendant. "Mr. Burke! A call for you, sir, from the newspaper office."

"Report." The word came in a weird, whispered tone. Clyde knew that this was not the voice that the

attendant had heard. Used expressly for Clyde's benefit, this eerie tone was a token of identity. Clyde knew

"The roulette player left," began Clyde, in a low voice. "He was followed by Marquette "

"They have just left their booth. The man is Lito Carraza, attache of a South American legation. The woman's

"Watch them." The Shadow's monotone was an order. "Tell me what is happening. Look all about. Report."

Clyde obeyed, half wondering. Suddenly, he caught the import of The Shadow's order. Something was

Whistler Ingliss had strolled from the doorway at the side of the room. Clyde could see the gambler's lips

pursed as they trilled a tune. Events of another night were undergoing repetition. Clyde was quick to whisper

"Whistler is giving a signal," he informed. "Men are coming from the side booths. The same men that I saw

"He is looking toward the roulette table. He has caught Anita's eye. She is talking to Lito Carraza. The man is

Clyde Burke stood dumfounded as he heard the click of the receiver at the other end. He hung up his own

receiver and stepped from the booth. The reason for The Shadow's quick termination of the telephone call

Lito Carraza, heading into Washington, was to become the prey of mobsters! Anita had lured the South

American attache into a trap. Whistler Ingliss, receiving a sign from the woman, had ordered thugs to action!

The Shadow must have called from the city. That fact seemed obvious to Clyde. Could he reach here before

Lito Carraza had left? That seemed impossible. The young South American was already on his way to the

Clyde watched Carraza's departure. The attache seemed a trifle anxious; Clyde knew that his expression was

brought about purely by the thought of the reprimand that might be awaiting him at the legation.

The door closed. Whistler Ingliss had retired to his office. The woman with whom Carraza had dined, was

playing roulette. The attache's departure had been observed by no one except Clyde Burke. The Shadow's

Such had been The Shadow's order. Yet Clyde felt worried. Following Carraza's path, he reached the veranda

at the front of the Club Rivoli. The lights of a large, foreign roadster had been turned on; a man at the wheel

was pressing the starter. It was Carraza, leaving. Clyde was tempted to leap forward and warn the man to

As Carraza's car began to roll away, Clyde realized a new angle to the situation. Men had been dispatched to

attack the South American, but they would certainly avoid an encounter in the neighborhood of the Club

The Shadow had foreseen that fact! There lay the reason for his prompt action. The idea brought quick

decision to Clyde Burke. Off duty, The Shadow's agent had become a news seeker. He would follow into

Clyde called to the driver of a cab. The taxi rolled to the steps. Entering the vehicle, Clyde told the man to

The Shadow's agent knew that speed would be necessary to keep up with the pace that Lito Carraza could

make in his foreign roadster. In this surmise, Clyde was correct. Carraza, leaving the Club Rivoli, had

Heading toward the broad speedway, the South American attache was counting on a clear road for his quick

trip back to the legation. The glow from the dashboard of his roadster showed his fuming lips. Carraza was

The roadster swerved as it reached the speedway. As Carraza pressed the accelerator, another car shot out

from a side road. It was a rakish touring car. It took up Carraza's trail. From a hundred feet behind, the

pursuing car began to lose ground as Carraza piloted his roadster at a speed of eighty miles an hour.

The attache, eager to get back to headquarters, had figured that his position would serve him should traffic

police observe his speed. The road ahead was clear. Beyond the bright lights that lined the Potomac was the

glow of the city, dominated by brilliance that showed the capitol building and the monument.

Carraza slackened slightly for a long turn. Then, as he pressed the accelerator for a straight stretch, he

muttered angrily. An old sedan was backing crosswise to block the speedway. Its erratic motion, in the path

There was time to avoid a collision, even at the speed with which the roadster was traveling. Carraza stepped

on the brake. His lunging car swerved, but held to the road as it came to a rapid stop. Intuitively, the South

American turned the wheel so that the nose of his car pointed at an angle behind the balking sedan.

A TONGUE of flame spat from the sedan. A bullet zimmed against the windshield of Carraza's roadster. The

glass cracked, but did not shatter. Another flash of flame. Carraza flung open the door beside the driver's seat

and leaped to the speedway, on the side away from the stalled sedan. His eyes opened wide with fright.

Looming down from the direction which he had come was a rakish touring car. Its headlights showed Carraza

plainly. From the side of the approaching automobile came an opening shot that missed its mark, but battered

Caught between two fires, Carraza leaped frantically to the front of his car. As his cowering form clutched

the radiator, another shot came from the sedan. Certain doom awaited the attache. It would be but a matter of

Then came the interruption that neither Carraza nor his pursuers had expected. The roar of a powerful motor

surged from the bend just ahead of the sedan. With terrific speed, a roadster of greater power than Carraza's

Gunmen, about to aim at their prey, turned to see this arriving car. The roadster, bearing down at ninety,

seemed driverless! Behind its wheel loomed a spectral shape that seemed like a monstrous creature of the

Death was the driver of that car. Death, in the person of The Shadow! The bark of a huge automatic was the

answer to the gunmen's challenge. The puny spats of revolver fire, directed at a hurtling target were wild

Hot lead seared into the midst of crouching mobsters. Hoarse screams were the replies as useless revolvers

clattered to the concrete of the speedway. As deadly as a crushing Juggernaut, The Shadow had hurled

As The Shadow's car swerved past the front of the sedan, men in the touring car opened new and closer fire

upon Lito Carraza. The attache screamed as a bullet clipped his shoulder. Blindly, he plunged forward,

But for The Shadow's quick and precise action, Carraza's course would have led him to sure death. A few

seconds before, the sedan had contained four men whose hands were ready with revolvers. That circumstance

had changed. The Shadows perfect shots had done their work. Not a single hand could rise to shoot down the

The touring car had stopped. Gangsters, leaping from its doors, were on Carraza's trail. They swung as The

Shadow's car swerved past Carraza's roadster. Blindly, they fired into the glare as jamming breaks brought

Revolver bullets spattered against the windshield. They might as well have driven against steel as that thick,

With left hand on the wheel, The Shadow answered with his right. His automatic, thrust from beside the

windshield, picked out the ruffians who snarled before the brilliance of The Shadow's headlights.

One ugly faced ruffian sprawled. A second, firing vain shots, staggered as a bullet reached him. Another

They were too late. A timely bullet clipped the first as he dodged beyond Carraza's roadster. A second shot

caught the second man as he sought to clamber back into the roadster. On the step, the gangster screamed,

Only one of the wouldbe assassins found opportunity to escape. He was the leader of the twocar mob the

man at the wheel of the touring car. "Bugs" Ritler, trusted henchman of Darvin Rochelle, had sensed the

Springing from the wheel, Bugs went through the door on the left as The Shadow was dropping the last pair

of snarling rats. Without pausing to fire a single shot, Bugs took a flying leap over a fence at the side of the

To the ears of the terrified gang leader came the strident sound of a taunting laugh. It was a weird cry that

sounded like a knell when it broke the silence which had followed the stilling of gunfire.

SINISTER, mocking mirth, it rang out as the token of swift triumph. In quick, emphatic seconds, The

Shadow had spelled doom to men of crime. Singlehanded, he had turned the odds in his own behalf.

From the wheel of his powerful roadster, The Shadow could see Lito Carraza. The attache whose life The

Shadow had saved, was clutching his wounded shoulder as he stood, whitefaced, close by the sedan where

Carraza was safe. No one remained to make a new attempt upon his life. The Shadow, turning his gaze along

the speedway, spied the lights of a taxicab approaching from the direction in which Carraza had come.

The big roadster moved backward. Its rear wheels gripped the dirt that edged the far side of the speedway.

The car roared forward. Swerving a foot from the rear of Carraza's stalled car, it shot along the broad road,

Above the roaring throb of the powerful motor came a final burst of mockery. The laugh was repeated, like a

distant echo, as the big roadster took the bend. The taillight twinkled from sight, just as the taxicab rolled up

The Shadow's hand had struck. His strident laugh had marked his victory. Triumphant, The Shadow had

ON the evening following the affray on the Virginia speedway, Vic Marquette appeared in the lobby of the

Hotel Starlett. The secretservice operative approached a room telephone and called Fulton Fourrier.

Vic Marquette had a habit of noticing people everywhere he went. He also possessed the peculiar ability of

spotting those who seemed to be worthwhile watching. He had used this propensity at the Club Rivoli when

he had observed Alvarez Menzone. He looked about him tonight, as he passed through the lobby of the

On this occasion, however, Vic's ability failed him. He saw no one in the lobby who impressed him as

important. He stared squarely at a tall, thinfaced man whose hawklike nose and keen eyes gave him a

dignified expression. But Vic saw nothing about that individual to make a second look necessary.

The personage whom Vic Marquette passed by, was the guest who had registered as Henry Arnaud. He was

located in the lobby for one definite purpose: to await the appearance of Vic Marquette.

As soon as the secretservice operative had taken one elevator, Arnaud arose and entered another. Alighting

at the eighth floor, he moved swiftly to his room. In the darkness, a black cloak swished. A weird, shrouded

figure appeared upon the balcony and began its precipitous and sidewise ascent to the outside of Fourrier's

Henry Arnaud had again become The Shadow. Crouched on Fourrier's balcony, his gloved hands eased the

trifling space that he needed between the doorlike halves of the French window. Peering keenly through the

crevice, The Shadow again became a silent listener to what was passing between Vic Marquette and his chief.

MARQUETTE was making his report. Fourrier, seated sidewise at the writing table, was ready with his

"The Club Rivoli," remarked Marquette. "Yes I was there. I spotted a South American."

"No. That's where I slipped up, chief. The fellow I picked is named Alvarez Menzone. He made friends with

a young chap named Maurice Twindell. I trailed the pair to the apartment where Menzone is living Athena

"And all this while," interposed Fourrier sourly, "crime was brewing out at the Club Rivoli. You've read the

newspapers" Fourrier picked up a journal and tapped it "and you know what happened there. They tried

to get Lito Carraza, an attache who had important legation correspondence on his person. He's the man you

"I know it," admitted Marquette. "I might have been watching him if I'd seen him. I picked another man,

"Let us discuss Carraza first," decided Fourrier. "According to the newspapers, he was attacked by gangsters,

purely as a holdup proposition. Carraza was driving an expensive car. He was coming from the Club Rivoli.

They tried to kill him, but some other persons opened fire. The one explanation seems to be that gangsters

"The first people to arrive were two men: a taxi driver and his passenger, a newsbureau man named Clyde

"That's why the real meat of the story was suppressed. The legation informed me of what had happened. I

went over there; I kept the facts out of print and I listed them for reference. Here they are:

"Carraza was dining with a woman named Anita Debronne. He left her at the Club Rivoli. She evidently

induced him to go there so that he would have to return alone along the speedway. I sent two men out to the

Club Rivoli. They learned that Anita Debronne was known there; that she had been seen to leave shortly after

Vic Marquette stared. This was news to him. He realized now why Fourrier was disgruntled. Had Vic been on

the job at the Club Rivoli, the sequel to last night's happenings might have been different.

"So here is the story," resumed Fourrier. "I've put more men to work. One is looking for Anita Debronne.

Two others are watching the Club Rivoli. If that's where attaches have been going before they disappear,

"No. We're crimping it that's all. We've got a lead on the Debronne woman. We've found a crew of dead

"Don't take what I have said as a reprimand," declared Fourrier, in an easier tone. "On the contrary,

"There is no doubt," announced Fourrier, "about one thing. You picked the Club Rivoli as a starting point.

That's where trouble was waiting for Lito Carraza. I want you to keep on from there. I think you're the man

"I've had to put other men on the case. It's obvious that the attempt on Carraza's life is linked with the

disappearances that we've been trying to trace. This is still your job; the other operatives are covering you.

Find some new clews. Go anywhere everywhere. Back to the Club Rivoli to legations wherever you

"Thanks, chief," said Marquette. "You can count on me. I'll follow the same tactics that I tried last night. All

these cases involved South American activities. I'm watching South Americans. That's why I picked Alvarez

"I'm not sure about that. He's an odd customer. He left the Club Rivoli right while his luck was running good.

I followed him last night. I dropped around at the apartment house this afternoon."

"Nothing. Menzone has a Filipino servant evidently one whom he hired here in Washington. The servant is

"That's simple. I'll get any information that's available. In the meantime, don't waste too much time on the

"That's just what I intend to do, chief. At the same time, I'm going to keep my eyes open for this fellow

THERE was a pause. Fourrier was thinking. A frown appeared upon the divisional chief's forehead.

"There's one thing I'd like to know," declared Fourrier. "That fight last night was a mighty brief one. It left

Carraza bewildered. All that he can remember was gunfire from two sides. Then he heard a car come

driving up brakes grinding more shots. He was clipped in the shoulder; but in the meantime, his rescuers

"The car must have made a quick getaway. Carraza heard it drive off; and he heard something else, too. He

says he heard a laugh a weird laugh one that he will never forget. Some of these South Americans are

Fourrier paused. He looked with alarm toward Vic Marquette. The operative was staring at his superior; his

"From you. That laugh you mentioned. Chief, I know what it meant. You're right that this affair is getting big.

"The next thing to it. Chief, it was The Shadow who got those mobsters. He's the only person who could have

Vic Marquette smiled grimly. He nodded; then began his explanation. Fulton Fourrier listened half

"They know about The Shadow in New York," declared Marquette. "Who he is what he is that's a

mystery. The point is that The Shadow battles crooks. The underworld is afraid of him more than they are

"I've heard something of it," admitted Fourrier, in a tone of recollection. "But this isn't New York."

"Yes. You're right on that. But the theory ends there, Marquette. If this fighter you call The Shadow, is out to

end gang rule, he's accomplished what he's after. Give him credit for wiping out that ugly band. But that ends

"Not a bit of it." Vic's tone was emphatic. "Chief, you can believe me or not when I tell you that The Shadow

has played his part in putting down some of the greatest crime that this country has ever known.

"I've taken credit for some mighty big jobs. I'll tell you, chief, that I'd never have come through some of them

"I've seen him." Vic was speaking in a tone of serious recollection. "I've heard his laugh. He is a ghost The

Shadow a phantom completely cloaked in black. He moves with incredible swiftness. He strikes without

Fourrier's brow was wrinkled. Vic noted his chief's expression. He realized that Fourrier doubted these

"I'm not dreaming," asserted Marquette, as he rose to his feet. "I'm telling you of things I've witnessed, under

unbelievable circumstances. The Shadow is a power; and he fights for justice. If he is here in Washington, it's

"It looks to me like The Shadow was in this deal. He has agents, and I'm mighty sure I know who one of them

is. Maybe I'll get a line on The Shadow while I'm working on this case. If I do, it's going to help.

"Chief, the break is coming. I'm convinced of it; and you can count on me. I'm starting out tonight with more

confidence than I've ever had and if you want the reason, I'll give it to you. It's because Lito Carraza heard

Fulton Fourrier smiled indulgently. Marquette's determination had put his chief's mind at ease. Fourrier

"I don't disbelieve you, Marquette," he declared. "Your record shows what you have done; and you wouldn't

take credit from yourself if you weren't convinced that it belonged elsewhere. If you've received aid from

some mysterious source and think you're going to get it again, so much the better.

"Don't worry too much about Alvarez Menzone. I'll look up the fellow's record. And don't bank too much on

"Get results. I'm counting on you. We're going to get to the bottom of this plot that has taken off six men and

Vic nodded his agreement. He went out through the door. Fulton Fourrier closed the portal, then turned back

to his writing table, shaking his head in new doubt. It was evident that Vic Marquette's talk of The Shadow

AT the writing table, Fulton Fourrier felt uneasy. He glanced back over his shoulder. He noted that the

For one brief second, while his hands were upon the window frames, Fulton Fourrier was face to face with

Beyond those windows stood the blackgarbed being of whom Vic Marquette had spoken. Fourrier,

however, did not see the sablehued form. Merged with outer darkness, The Shadow was a creature invisible.

Fourrier returned to the writing table. As he sat down, he started as a surprising echo reached his ears. It

seemed like the faint, hollow tone of a whispered laugh. It reminded him of the mockery which Lito Carraza

Fulton Fourrier sat motionless. At last, he shrugged his shoulders. He attributed that weird sound to a touch

Yet, as he studied report sheets, the chief could not shake off that haunting sound. It persisted as a chilling

Small wonder! That was a laugh which no one could forget. Fulton Fourrier, though he did not realize the

ON the following morning, Clyde Burke entered his office to find an unposted letter in the mail box. He

opened it and scanned blueinked lines that were inscribed in The Shadow's code. The message contained

The name of Alvarez Menzone was not familiar to Clyde Burke. The newspaperman picked up the telephone

book and looked for the name. He did not find it. He located the apartment house, however, and decided that

Clyde picked up the paper which had contained The Shadow's message. The sheet had turned blank while

Clyde had been consulting the telephone book. The Shadow's agent tossed the paper into the wastebasket. He

Arriving at Athena Court, Clyde looked over the name plates and discovered that of Alvarez Menzone. The

apartment number was 3D. Clyde entered the deserted lobby, took the automatic elevator to the third floor,

A minute passed. The door opened. A dullfaced Filipino, clad in white coat and black trousers, stared at the

The servant was about to close the door in Clyde's face when a voice called from an inner room:

"Tell him to come in," repeated the voice. The accents showed the speaker to be a foreigner.

THE newspaperman found himself in a wellfurnished living room. As he stood within the door, a man

Clyde Burke could not repress a stare. He had seen this man before. He was the South American whom Clyde

had viewed from the booth at the Club Rivoli the one who had gone out with an American whom Clyde

"Buenos dios, senor," greeted Menzone, with a gleaming smile. "I am Alvarez Menzone. You have come to

"Yes," answered Clyde. "My name is Burke. I am manager of the National City News Association a

Menzone seated himself in an armchair and waved Clyde to another seat. He picked up a wooden box,

opened it to extract a cigarette, and offered one to Clyde Burke. The newspaperman accepted.

"You must excuse my servant," remarked Menzone, as he was lighting his cigarette. "He is very stupid,

sometimes. I told him that I wished to see no one until later. He should not have told you that I was out,

"An interview." Menzone smiled reminiscently. "I have given many of them, senor, but always in South

America. This is my first experience in the United States. I suppose you wish to know why I am in

"I have come" Menzone seemed very serious "to aid in the promotion of international good will. I am an

internationalist, senor, so far as South America is concerned. The entire continent is familiar ground to me.

"Ah! What a future lies there! Through peace and harmony, South America could lead the world.

Communication. Better communication. That is the first step that we must make. Not communication, senor

Menzone went to the corner of the room and brought back a huge stack of papers. He produced a large

"Here, senor," he said, "are the railroads as they now exist. These in red. Here are the ones that we should

"We have neglected this form of transportation. Why? Because each nation, if it builds a road to the border of

another country, is aiding a different nation. Take this green line from Bogota, in Colombia. It would be a

wonderful form of transportation if it went southward; but to be of value, it would have to cross Ecuador and

"Who must begin it? Colombia. Then Ecuador must follow. Peru could start it if she wished; but again,

"You see the problem? International effort is the only answer. How can it be gained? Through American

"Here in the United States," remarked Clyde, "rail transportation is meeting with heavy competition."

"Because you have highways," explained Menzone. "But they come after the railroads. Great profit is there,

for those who are the first to seek it. Years and years of successful rail transportation lie ahead in South

MENZONE passed the map to Clyde. He produced mimeographed sheets. Some of these were statements;

others contained statistics. They gave reports on existing rail lines of the South American continent; also the

"This will make good copy," remarked Clyde. He nodded as Menzone passed him photographs of South

American locomotives and other rolling stock. "Yes. Coming at the time of the PanAmerican Convention, I

can sell this as feature material. You intend to bring up this subject at the convention?"

"So I hope, senor. I shall visit the legations and discuss the matter. But I wish to do more. I want this

information to be just so. I want it so it will interest North Americans. There is the trouble."

"I think as we think in the South. My wording is not good. I need someone who can understand to put it in the

"Why don't you hire a competent secretary?" Clyde Burke was prompt with the question, when he had gained

"Buenos," agreed the South American. "But where am I to find such a man? I am here in Washington. I did

not see the difficulty until I arrived. I know how secretaries go. Some are good; most are bad. You

"Perhaps," offered Clyde, "I could obtain the very man you need. It would not prove difficult, since you

speak English so fluently. You want a man to handle your correspondence in the United States "

"You have a telephone," remarked Clyde, as he looked across the room. "Let me take the number. You will

Clyde jotted down Menzone's number. He folded the data which he had received and extended his hand to the

South American. Menzone received it warmly. Impressed by Clyde's promise of publicity and aid in

obtaining a secretary, Menzone was gracious to the extreme. He accompanied his visitor to the door and

As he took the elevator, Clyde's last glance toward Menzone's apartment showed the South American still

standing in the opened doorway. Menzone was smiling, apparently pleased because he had been interviewed.

Yet there was something sardonic about his expression that made a distinct impression upon Clyde Burke.

The Shadow's agent, as he strolled from Athena Court, was convinced that Alvarez Menzone's interest in

South American transportation was not the only reason for his presence in Washington.

There was a shrewdness about Menzone that was difficult to analyze. Among the pictures which Clyde had

received was one of Menzone himself. Studying the photograph, Clyde could observe the peculiar, lurking

Clyde had missed this out at the Club Rivoli. He had not seen Menzone closely there. Since his interview

with the South American, however, Clyde was convinced of The Shadow's wisdom in covering this stranger

in Washington. The photograph Clyde studied it more intensely as he traveled toward his office in a cab

AT the office, Clyde began to arrange his material for a syndicated story. This was Sundayfeature stuff

without question. The PanAmerican Convention had not yet begun its preliminary meetings. This story

would break before the subject of extended transportation would come before the members of the convention.

Clyde visualized graphic pages: Menzone's portrait pictures of South American railway equipment boxed

tables of statistics a huge map of South America with its dotted lines of proposed railway systems. His first

task, however, was to prepare a news story that the Washington journals would gobble. Opening the case of a

portable typewriter, Clyde began to pound the keys in twofinger reporter fashion.

The ringing of the telephone came as an interruption. Clyde lifted the receiver. He announced his name; also

that of his news bureau. A single word, uttered in a strange, whispered voice, came to Clyde's ear:

It was The Shadow! Clyde gazed toward the door, to make sure that no chance visitor was about to enter.

Then, in brief, concise words, he gave the details of his interview with Alvarez Menzone. He stated that he

had obtained a story which was marketable; he added that Menzone was ready to employ a secretary, if he

"Call Menzone." The Shadow's order came in a sibilant hiss. "Tell him that you are sending him the man he

Clyde's eyes opened wide. Harry Vincent! Clyde had not known that Harry was in Washington. Clyde had

worked with Harry before; he knew Harry to be one of the most capable agents in The Shadow's employ.

The Shadow had foreseen the possibility of Clyde Burke making a successful suggestion to Alvarez

"Place story immediately." This was The Shadow's added order. "Menzone's purpose in Washington must

The receiver clicked as Clyde was acknowledging the instructions. Clyde hung up; he waited a few minutes,

then called Alvarez Menzone. He heard the persuasive voice of the South American across the wire.

"Yes," announced Clyde. "His name is Harry Vincent. He'll be out to see you some time today. He's a man

"Excellent," was Menzone's rejoinder. The South American concluded the telephone conversation with

CLYDE began to pound the typewriter. His story was shaping rapidly. The Shadow's agent remembered the

Dropping the story for the moment, Clyde called the office of one of the Washington evening newspapers. He

was connected with the city editor. Briefly, Clyde sketched the story that he had obtained from Alvarez

"Great stuff, Burke!" came the city editor's commendation. "You say you're still working on the story?"

"I'll have a copy boy over to your office in fifteen minutes. Give him the story and photographs. We're

going to break this in the next edition. We want it as an exclusive interview. You understand?"

Clyde acknowledged. He smiled as he hung up the receiver and went back to his typewriter pounding. He

knew what this would mean: a firstpage story of timely interest. Coming on the heels of recent railroad

legislation in the United States; appearing in advance of the PanAmerican Convention, this interview with

A new outlet for American millions! Clyde could see the editorial comment that the story would bring. The

other Washington newspapers would pounce upon it. Alvarez Menzone would be interviewed by many

Harry Vincent, already on his way to Menzone's, would have immediate duties as secretary to the South

American. Clyde smiled as he pounded out the concluding paragraph of his story, to complete the article

Alvarez Menzone was crashing the limelight. Why? Because The Shadow so desired. Somehow, The Shadow

had foreseen this possibility. What was The Shadow's purpose? Only The Shadow knew.

Spiderlike, The Shadow was spinning an invisible web. Here, in Washington, the being who battled crime

was meeting craft with craft. Some master plotter of evil was lurking in the background. The Shadow sought

Through the exploitation of Alvarez Menzone, the South American who had gained the acquaintanceship of

Maurice Twindell, The Shadow was tending toward his goal. Action on the speedway was being followed by

Through Clyde Burke, The Shadow had gained the points he needed. He was bringing Alvarez Menzone into

The Shadow knew that this would bring results. The ultimate was something which The Shadow, alone,

could foresee. The Shadow, master worker, was seeking to bring crime from its lair.

DARVIN ROCHELLE was seated behind his huge, flattopped mahogany desk. His lips were firmly set. His

gaze was harsh as his eyes turned toward the man who was sitting close to the huge globe of the world.

Rochelle's companion was Maurice Twindell. The habitue of the Club Rivoli was attired in a business suit; he

still retained the debonair manner that was characteristic when he appeared in evening clothes.

"We have met with difficulty, Maurice," observed Rochelle. "The final goal was within attainment, until that

"I didn't think Bugs Ritler would fail you," remarked Twindell glumly. "It was a setup to kill Lito Carraza

"I have the explanation," asserted Rochelle. "Bugs managed to escape. That is fortunate. He reported back to

Whistler Ingliss in Agro and told him what had happened. Bugs knows who it was that broke up his mob

"The Shadow, Maurice," explained the man with the limp, "is a power unto himself. His usual habitat is New

York City, but he has frequently been encountered elsewhere. His pastime is to fight whole gangs; to down

them singlehanded. He has been despicably successful. That is why I state again that Bugs Ritler was lucky

"I did not say one man," returned Rochelle. "I said The Shadow. He is more than a man, Maurice. He is a

phantom of the night. A ghost that comes to life. For months, my schemes have been marked by steady

success. Months narrowed to days; days to hours; hours to minutes. Then, when seconds only lay between me

"To balk them. From now on, Maurice, my old methods will be useless. Had we trapped Lito Carraza, I

The telephone bell interrupted. Rochelle picked up the instrument and spoke. He changed from English into

"Kye kye zo kire?" he questioned. "Kye zay voso... Voso voso... Bole zee thone... Fee. Thone thone... Bole

THE young man seemed to understand the reason for the annoyed expression which was on Rochelle's face.

"Whistler Ingliss," remarked Rochelle. "He tells me that secretservice operatives were at his place last night.

You heard my answer. I told him to be very careful. Things are bad, but I promised to let him know when all

"With the operatives covering," observed Twindell, "it's a cinch you can't make a move from the Club

"Operatives?" Rochelle spat the question. "Bah! If another man should appear at the Club Rivoli with those

papers that I want, I could snatch him out from under the noses of secretservice men.

"It is The Shadow who could prevent it!" Rochelle pounded the desk emphatically. "He scents mobsters as a

fox trails a hare. Gangsters cannot thwart him. What is more, Maurice, The Shadow is a sleuth extraordinary.

It is on his account more so than that of the secret service that I sent Anita Debronne into hiding.

"That is where you are going, Maurice. Out of town, to await my summons. This is your final visit here until

"Listen." Rochelle held up his hand for silence. "I am changing tactics, Maurice. I have used direct tactics

because they succeeded. I needed you and Anita to lure victims to their doom. Such mechanism is useless

now. I shall reserve it for the final stroke the deeds which will follow the gaining of the documents which I

"Stealth is required. Real espionage, the art at which I am so skilled. The correspondence which Lito Carraza

"Mob raids would be futile. I need a new instrument: one that I can use to full advantage. You, Maurice, have

"Yes." Rochelle smiled with evil expression. "On the night of Bugs Ritler's failure, you met a man from

South America. Alvarez Menzone. You told me about him a man of wealth, here in Washington to promote

"Yes. He talked with me as we rode back from the Club Rivoli. I saw nothing of value, except that he had

"That was sufficient." Rochelle was tapping the desk as he smiled. "I have consulted my files, Maurice. I

have learned facts that interest me concerning Alvarez Menzone. I saw how he might prove useful. There was

"His nonentity in Washington. A man may be important in South America, yet remain unrecognized here.

Conversely, certain men of little repute in their own lands may be feted and lionized in this foolish city.

"Publicity is the deity which Americans worship. Let a man reach the news his reputation is established.

ROCHELLE reached to the side of the disk and tossed three newspapers to Twindell. The young man nodded

"I saw these," remarked Twindell. "Menzone has crashed the front page all right. You mean that this is to our

"Positively. I should like very much, Maurice, to receive Alvarez Menzone as a visitor. Let me suggest that

"Suggest that his scheme for continental transportation in South America is dependent primarily upon

favorable international relations. Its success should, therefore, be greatly aided through cooperation with the

"Give him a bit of information: namely, that the International Peace Alliance has begun a drive for millions

of dollars to be spent on commodities that will be shipped to foreign lands. The lack of inland transportation

is the one factor which may prevent South America from gaining the chief benefit of these funds.

"Our promise to ship steadily to South America, should rail facilities be provided there, will certainly be of

Maurice Twindell nodded. He glanced at his watch and noted that it was half past five. Darvin Rochelle

"Try to get Menzone before dinner," he suggested. "Call there in person. Report to me by telephone."

Shortly before six, he arrived at Athena Court. He went up to the third floor and rang Menzone's bell. A

young man of keencut appearance answered. It was Harry Vincent, Menzone's new secretary. Twindell

inquired for the South American. Harry informed him that Menzone would not be in until half past seven.

Twindell promised to return at that time. He went down to the street, found a drug store and entered a

"Kay zay eef kire," declared Twindell, in Agro. "Kay zee kire rema. Sake goda. Seek coda joda. Alk keed."

It was just half past eight when he returned to Athena Court. This time, Harry Vincent announced that

Alvarez Menzone was at home. The South American was seated in the living room; he recognized Maurice

Twindell immediately and arose to greet the man whom he had met at the Club Rivoli.

A few words passed in Spanish. Harry, partly familiar with the language, grasped that Twindell wanted to

discuss some matter privately. Menzone ushered the visitor into a small room that served as his study. He

HARRY, listening from outside the barrier, could not distinguish the low, buzzing words. He slipped back

into the living room when he heard the scuffle of chairs. Menzone and Twindell appeared. They shook hands

"Tell him," declared Menzone, in Spanish, "that I shall call shortly after nine o'clock tonight it is almost

"No, indeed," interposed Twindell. "He will be glad to see you, Senor Menzone. Buenos noches."

Menzone returned to the living room. He remarked to his new secretary that he intended to go out for a short

Maurice Twindell, when he reached the street, entered the same drug store where he had gone before. He put

This done, Maurice Twindell strolled from the drug store. He hailed a passing cab and ordered the driver to

take him to the Union Station. In accordance with Rochelle's order, Twindell was taking a trip out of town.

Meanwhile, Alvarez Menzone was dressing for an evening visit. He called Harry Vincent and ordered the

secretary to bring maps and mimeographed sheets. Harry left these on the study desk. Menzone appeared

from his own room, carrying a bulky brief case. Harry saw him thrust the printed data into its interior.

As soon as Menzone had gone, Harry sat at the desk in the study. Drawing a pen from his pocket, The

Shadow's agent inscribed a coded message in blue ink. Sealing the message in a small envelope, Harry

Beyond the elevator, at a corner of the stairway, hung a fire extinguisher. Harry tucked the envelope behind

MINUTES passed. Blackness moved on the obscure and littleused stairway. A shrouded form appeared; a

gloved hand that seemed like a thing of living blackness extended to the wall. It plucked the envelope that

Shortly afterward, a cab driver pulled up at the curb near Athena Court in response to a whistle. He looked

about for the person who had summoned him. He saw no one. He was startled, however, to hear a voice from

the interior of the cab. He realized that despite his alertness, his passenger had entered without his

The driver nodded, as a voice gave him an address. He started the cab. Paper crinkled in the rear as hands

opened an envelope. Harry Vincent's message appeared between blackgloved fingers.

By the light of street lamps which the cab was passing, The Shadow read the meager report which his agent

had been able to obtain regarding Alvarez Menzone's visitor and the subsequent departure of Menzone

The coded writing faded. The paper and the envelope fluttered from the window. Blackness shifted within the

gloom of the cab. Then came a whispered laugh. It was a token of keen understanding.

The Shadow, despite the little that he had learned through Harry Vincent, seemed satisfied with the way

affairs were going. The meshes of his web were strung. The unseen network was ready to ensnare its prey!

Darvin Rochelle uttered these words as his dwarfish servant came creeping through the door at the rear of the

"Co kay dake." Rochelle was limping toward the anteroom as he spoke. "Bole zee fela. Bole teeba teen alk

With these words, Rochelle clumped through the doorway. He crossed the anteroom, opened the further door

and held out his hand as a man arrived at the top of the marble stairway. It was Alvarez Menzone.

"Senor Menzone?" Rochelle's welcome was a friendly one. Then: "Come in, senor. You are welcome."

Limping through the anteroom, Rochelle conducted his guest to the office. Thurk was no longer in sight.

Rochelle motioned Menzone to the chair beside the huge globe of the world. Menzone, like every other

Rochelle seated himself behind the desk. Menzone, turning, picked up the briefcase that he had brought with

"My friend Twindell" Menzone was using English, the language which seemed familiar to Rochelle "has

told me that your plan and mine have mutual points. Both of us are concerned with the creation of

"And mine are commercial. That does not change the fact that they are very much alike."

Rochelle began to eye the plans which Menzone had shown him. He shook his head, half doubtingly. Finally,

he faced Menzone and smiled as he saw a steady gleam in the South American's eye.

"Futile!" exclaimed Rochelle. "These plans could never work! The transportation facilities that you suggest

would take rail lines to districts that will never thrive, even though developed. Millions would be lost through

"You are wrong!" retorted Menzone, in harsh accents. "You do not know the facts, senor! You are not

Rising from behind his desk, Rochelle limped in halting fashion to a large filing cabinet in the corner of the

"L M " Rochelle paused on the second letter. "M E; M E N; ah, here it is, Menzone!"

ROCHELLE drew a file from the cabinet. He moved swiftly, despite his limp, as he returned to the desk. He

threw down the folded file with triumph and showed elation as he stared at the perplexed South American.

"I say," repeated Rochelle, with emphasis, "that millions would be lost through your plans. I also maintain

that I am acquainted with your work. Let me add: millions lost by some are millions gained by others. You,

"I have the facts." Rochelle grinned fiendishly. "This file, senor, is a complete record of your past. Let us see

Rochelle opened the file. While Menzone clenched and unclenched his fists, the man with the limp calmly

"The great nitrate swindle," he remarked, "had its inception at Antofagasta, in 1919. A certain Alvarez

Menzone was the originator of that hapless scheme. It passed into other hands with profit to Menzone

who left Chile shortly afterward. The bubble burst; those who remained were the ones who took the blame.

"We turn to Bahia, in 1921. We find Alvarez Menzone engaged in the promotion of a steamship line for the

Amazon River. This comes close to transportation, senor. Half a million was subscribed; yet steamships were

never purchased. The funds of the Amazon steamship line disappeared very mysteriously.

"The defunct airport at Asuncion, Paraguay. That was another scheme of transportation which failed in 1924.

Presumably, the time for such development of air lines had not yet arrived. Actually, the failure of the

Asuncion airport can be attributed to the scheming of its promoter Alvarez Menzone."

"Bogota, Colombia, 1926," read Rochelle. "An expansion of the traction lines, to develop the outlying

sections of the city. That was a double swindle. Rusted tracks vacant lots those alone remain as testimony

"Lima, Peru, in 1929. A remarkable scheme to develop air lines radiating from the Peruvian capital. Such

lines now exist, but they are not the ones proposed by Alvarez Menzone. The overthrow of the existing

government in Peru was given as the cause for failure; actually, the swindling methods of Alvarez Menzone

"La Paz, Bolivia, 1930," remarked Rochelle. "You were there at that time, Menzone; but something went

wrong with your plans. You appeared in Caracas, in 1931. You started plans for a coastal steamship line in

"From then on nothing until now. But I can fill the gap, thanks to our mutual friend, Maurice Twindell. He

tells me that you have come from Buenos Aires. That is quite likely. Argentina would naturally have attracted

"Financial conditions have not been good in the Argentine. So we find you here in Washington, Senor

Swindler, ready to start a gigantic project in a country where your ways are not known."

Rochelle rested back in his chair, when he had finished his impeachment. He was studying Alvarez Menzone

as he had studied Croydon Herkimer. The swindler, however, was less perturbed than the profiteer had been.

"Your facts are interesting," declared Menzone. "What do you intend to do with them, senor?"

MENZONE appeared mildly quizzical. Rochelle chuckled. Menzone was the type of man whom he had

expected. A swindler deluxe, unperturbed by thoughts of exposure: such was the surface impression. Yet

Rochelle knew that his visitor was actually playing a bold, though losing, game.

"Perhaps," mused Rochelle, "I could find a way to endorse your present plans, senor. It may be that you are a

leopard who can change his spots. Tell me what has been your reception at the South American legations?"

"A welcome one," returned Menzone calmly. "In fact, senor, I can say that they are more friendly toward

"Perhaps this is only a suggestion, senor I might make the way easy for someone such as yourself. The

"But should they gain them," parried Rochelle, "your visit to Washington would be ended, senor."

Rochelle had struck home. Menzone knew it. The South American bowed. It was his signal of defeat.

Rochelle understood the gesture. He arose and stamped around his desk. He came to a limping pause as he

neared Menzone's chair. Leaning on his cane, he clapped his free hand upon his visitor's shoulder.

Menzone turned in the direction of Rochelle's gaze. The man with the limp turned out his hand and pointed to

the globe of the world. He gave the sphere a twirl; he stopped it so that the continent of South America was

"There," declared Rochelle, "is the empire which I intend to rule! Ah, senor. You are surprised! You do not

see how a man of peace can gain a continent. That is because I have deceived you. I am a man who seeks war

"You said that we had much in common. You were right but you did not know that your pretended

statement was a true one. Your game has been to talk of South American development while you pocket

profits. My game has been to further international strife while I scheme for warfare.

"Look! You who know South America will understand. Paraguay has warred upon Bolivia, in hope of

gaining Gran Chaco. Let us suppose that Colombia and Ecuador should ally to gain disputed territory from

"An alliance for defense," responded Menzone, with a leer that matched Rochelle's. "The Acre dispute would

"Ah, senor!" exclaimed Menzone, in crafty delight. "I see it now! Bolivar freed Colombia from Spain. He

was from Venezuela. His countrymen have not forgotten the land which they think is theirs. Venezuela would

Half rising, Menzone thrust a long finger forward and tapped the portion of the map which represented

Bolivia. A second finger extended widely, to rest upon Peru. Menzone's hand moved.

"An alliance here!" expressed Menzone. "Peru and Bolivia, to regain provinces wrested from them years ago

"Neutral for a time," returned Menzone. "The same with Uruguay. Buenos Aires and Montevideo are close,

senor." He clasped his hands together in an indicative gesture. "But they will join, senor, on one side or the

"Good," decided Rochelle. "I value your opinion, senor. But I can tell" he was limping back to the desk

"the question that is in your mind. A continent is ready for war. How will it start? Am I right? Is that your

"The making of war," declared Rochelle, "is in my safe. Documents chiefly correspondence have been

obtained to set a continent ablaze. Messages have passed between the governments of South American

nations and their Washington legations. Other messages have come to the state department of the United

"Singly, these documents are of little value. Released at once, in different capitals, they will create havoc. In

preparation for the PanAmerican Convention, the authorities of every South American country have

"Yes," resumed Rochelle. "What, for instance, would happen in Colombia and Ecuador if the people of

Bogota and Quito learned that Peru, in settling the Acre question with Brazil, should express a desire to

"Excitement?" Rochelle laughed. "There would be riot! Jingoists in Bogota and Quito would dominate

popular thought. Those factions, Menzone, are waiting for my word. Only one step prevents the completion

"A few nights ago" Rochelle eyed Menzone narrowly "the attache of a certain foreign legation was

attacked while on the speedway across the Potomac River. I am speaking of Lito Carraza. You have heard

"I read about him in the newspapers, senor. In fact, I had passed the very spot not long before."

"You know the man I mean. That is sufficient. My plans, Menzone, have passed the mere state of creating

havoc in Colombia and Ecuador. They are also ready to cause retaliatory measures in Peru, Brazil, and

Venezuela. To reach perfection, they must justify Bolivia's entrance into the grand alliance.

"The correspondence which Lito Carraza carried would have created the result that I desired. The papers are

now safely guarded in the vault of Carraza's legation. To obtain them, I need a man who can gain access to

that embassy: one whose craft is equal to the task of entering the vault unseen."

"Difficult," suggested Menzone. "You would need a man, senor, who could discover the combination of the

"No. I possess the combination. My espionage has been farreaching. But I am afraid to intrust the task to

mere safecrackers. Failure would disturb my final plans. Suppose" Rochelle was tapping the file on his

desk "that this information should be forgotten. Would that promise spur you to do the work I want?"

"I am at your service, senor," he declared. "But you have forgotten one thing. What good will it be for me to

interest American capital in railways for the southern continent? If war is to break loose "

"You are wise," interposed Rochelle. "But you need have no worry of the future. First, by working swiftly,

you can start your scheme. War will end it; you will not be blamed when millions of dollars are lost.

"Then afterward if you continue to serve me well your opportunity will come. You will have a place in

my empire, Menzone! Beginning with tonight" Rochelle's tone brooked no opposition "you are in my

service. If you succeed in gaining the correspondence that I require, there will be further work for you.

"Your activities will be covered by your railway promotion, just as mine are covered by the International

Peace Alliance. If you succeed, Menzone, you will become my chief aid. Then you will learn the secrets of

"That is well," laughed Rochelle. He tapped the file in significant fashion. "If you had refused, the

publication of the truth about you would be my answer. Remember, Menzone" Rochelle was adopting the

tone that he had used with Herkimer "that you have no alternative. I hold you thus."

AGAIN, Menzone bowed. His smile, however, showed that the arrangement was satisfactory to him.

"You are in my service." Rochelle reached into a desk drawer and produced a small pamphlet. "Therefore,

you may receive communications from me. You may also be forced to talk with me, by telephone or with

"For this purpose, we use the rudiments of the new international language Agro. You can learn it from this

little book. It is simple and easily understood. Keep the pamphlet until you have learned its contents. Be sure

"Between now and the night when I shall require your aid, you can master this simple language. When I give

"Come." Rochelle arose. "Our meeting is ended. Remember its details, Menzone. You can come here, when

necessary. Our pretended activities in the cause of peace will be sufficient coverage."

Limping to the anteroom, Darvin Rochelle conducted his visitor to the marble staircase. Leaning on his cane,

Rochelle watched Menzone's departure. As an attendant opened the front door, Menzone turned toward the

stairway. At the top, he saw Rochelle, his left hand raised in token of farewell.

As Menzone gazed, Rochelle's clinging fingers formed a fist. It was a reminder of Rochelle's power.

Menzone's answer was a glittering smile: the recognition of one schemer for another.

The outer door closed. Darvin Rochelle strode haltingly back into his office, to find Thurk, the dwarf

"Sovo," declared Rochelle. "Exat vodo zo sovo sovo. Co kay zee toko, Thurk. Kay zay sovo sovo."

The dwarf grinned and nodded. Darvin Rochelle, still thinking of Alvarez Menzone, clenched his left fist.

Rochelle chuckled. His agents had never attempted to betray him, for he held them in his power. Alvarez

Menzone would be like the rest. But should a final emergency arise, there was one upon whom Rochelle

The evilfaced dwarf was completely the creature of the insidious fiend whom he served.

THE lights of a large embassy were aglow. A diplomatic function of consequence was taking place upon this

evening. Situated near a broad avenue, the building formed a spot of interest to people who were driving past

This embassy housed the legation of which Lito Carraza was a member. The gay function now in progress

was a prelude to the opening of the PanAmerican Convention, which was scheduled to begin upon the

The ambassador, a dignified, bearded South American, was attired in military uniform. Formerly a general in

the army of his native land, he adopted this attire at important receptions. Kindlyfaced, this elderly

ambassador lacked the warlike pose that might have been expected by those who viewed his medalled chest.

As proof that his thoughts turned to peace rather than war, the ambassador was listening with nods of

approval to the talk of Darvin Rochelle. The head of the International Peace Alliance, surrounded by a

lionizing throng, was beaming with good will as he discussed his favorite subject that of friendship between

"South America!" Rochelle was enthusiastic, as he leaned upon his cane. "One great country, gentlemen. A

continent divided into separate nations, it is true, but all have the same purpose. All but one speak the same

language; and that one has a kindred tongue. All are republics. It is the new world that shows the example to

Murmurs of approval greeted this statement. Most of the listeners were SpanishAmericans; diplomats, they

understood the English phrases which Rochelle uttered. The spirit of good will seemed to prevail, with

Alvarez Menzone was present. A guest at the embassy function, the shrewdfaced adventurer was avoiding

the limelight. Although away from the group of which Rochelle was the center, Menzone could catch the

words that the other said. Also, Menzone was close enough to overhear the talk between two other men

"What of it?" questioned the first. "It's the kind of talk they like. Libertad! Shout that word among a lot of

South Americans and they raise a bigger cheer than a Japanese banzai. But when they come to settle things

"Bah! Soapsuds! It looks good because they're away from home. Wait until they get back where they belong.

I'm giving you the truth when I say that the undercurrent of South American antagonism is tremendous."

The speakers moved away. Alvarez Menzone smiled. These Americans were discussing the very facts that

Darvin Rochelle had mentioned. South America, like a volcano with a dozen craters, was ready for eruption.

MENZONE strolled past groups of courteous diplomats and attaches. Men in resplendent uniforms; others in

evening dress; all were bowing and exchanging greetings. Spanish and English were intermingled languages.

Again, Menzone stopped by a spot where two Americans were speaking in low tones. He flicked his cigarette

"Do you catch the chatter?" one man was asking the other. "Nothing about Bolivia and Paraguay. You'd think

"I heard Rochelle spouting peace and good will," was the reply. "It was going over big. Two thirds of the

"They like their wars in South America. Things have been too quiet there. Oldfashioned warfare was their

business. Believe me, they're all watching modern methods in Gran Chaco. If they like them, it may be just

Menzone strolled onward. He reached a side room, and drew a cigarette case from his pocket. He extracted a

cigarette, placed it between his lips, and looked for a match. He had none. Moving a few paces, he

The man turned at Menzone's question. His hand, moving to his pocket, stopped. Menzone's keen eyes met

those of a firmfaced fellow, who could not conceal the sudden recognition that had gripped him.

The man whom Alvarez Menzone had accosted was Vic Marquette. In an instant, the secretservice

operative had recognized the South American as the one whom he had trailed from the Club Rivoli.

The manner in which Menzone repeated the question showed apparent failure to observe the look of surprise

upon the face of Vic Marquette. The secretservice man produced a pack of matches. Menzone accepted

them with thanks. He lighted his cigarette and returned the pack. He strolled onward. Vic Marquette watched

A thin smile crept over Menzone's lips. The man's sallow face seemed craftier than ever.

Menzone had been more observant than Vic Marquette had supposed. Placing his cigarette between his lips,

Menzone puffed in thoughtful fashion as he returned toward the group with which Darvin Rochelle was

"It is late." Rochelle was beaming as he spoke. "I have a busy day tomorrow, gentlemen. I am preparing a

copious report upon the subject of international relationship. It will be read in full at the PanAmerican

Warm, enthusiastic handshakes were extended. All moved away with the exception of the ambassador. Side

The pair paused close by the spot where Alvarez Menzone was standing. An attache approached the

ambassador. As the bearded man turned to speak to him, Rochelle edged closer to Menzone. He did not look

at the suave South American; Menzone, in turn, was staring toward the door as he puffed his cigarette. The

"Alk kade," murmured Rochelle, in Agro. "Bole zee rike. Bole veek rema. Deek ake alkro gomo exat vodo.

Rochelle was turning to the ambassador. He limped beside the diplomat as they continued toward the door.

NO one had overheard the conversation in Agro. No one would have understood the words had they been

overheard. Secretly yet with positive surety Rochelle had told Menzone that he was leaving. He had

instructed Menzone to remain at the embassy; to act later. He had added that Menzone was to come to his

Menzone, in return, had given an affirmative reply of understanding, with the added statement that he was

Menzone's long fingers dipped into his pocket. Apparently, they were seeking a match or a cigarette.

Actually, they were obtaining a most important slip of paper: the combination to the embassy vault.

Watching eyes were on Alvarez Menzone. They were the eyes of Vic Marquette. The secretservice

operative was peering from the adjoining room. He had not noticed the exchange of words between Alvarez

The tall South American strolled away. Vic kept him in sight. There was nothing in Menzone's actions that

could excite new suspicion; yet Vic was determined to pursue his quarry. The longer he watched, the more

The very fact that Menzone was moving about in purposeless fashion convinced Marquette that the South

American had a special reason for being here. Vic was determined to learn that reason. He saw Menzone pass

The secretservice operative went by a huge curtain. He kept on. The moment that he passed, Menzone

stepped into view and doubled on his tracks. Keeping to the wall of the reception room, the sallowfaced

Slowly, Menzone turned the knob. He opened the door cautiously. He saw a heavybrowed attache seated at

a table, reading a LatinAmerican newspaper. With catlike stealth, Menzone crouched. As he launched

The man started to cry out; he was too late. Menzone's swift attack bowled over the man and the chair in

which he sat. So powerful was the sweeping spring that the attache did not catch a glimpse of his attacker's

face. A springing form that overturned him helpless, upon the thick carpeting. That was the only impression

Pinning his powerless opponent face downward on the floor, Menzone clamped the victim's hands behind his

back. With a quick sweep, he snapped the man's belt buckle and whisked the belt away, His knee in the

The attache started to cry out. Menzone flattened him and suppressed him with a firm hand. He used the

man's handkerchief for a gag. Then, with snarled words in Spanish that warned his victim not to struggle,

THIS room had heavy curtains. They were held with stout, ropelike cords. Menzone removed these and

returned to the man on the floor. He completed the binding in expert fashion. Trussed hand and foot, the

All the while, the cowed captive had lain face downward. He had not caught an identifying glimpse of the

attacker. Menzone, turning his eyes toward a huge vault at the other end of the room, saw that his coming

work would give the prisoner a chance to observe him. With a slight laugh, Menzone settled that matter. He

By the glimmer of a small torch, Menzone approached the vault. He drew forth the paper that bore the

combination. Working smoothly, he turned the knobs. He swung the door open and focused his flashlight

The interior of the vault showed various compartments, marked with South American titles. Menzone found

the one he wanted. He opened it and rapidly fingered sheaves of papers. He drew forth the packet that he

A few minutes later, Alvarez Menzone appeared at the door of the darkened room. He regained the hall, made

his way along it and reached the reception room. Pressing a cigarette between his lips, he plucked a match

The South American strolled across the reception room. Vic Marquette, coming from a side room, suddenly

spied the man whom he had been seeking. To all appearances, Menzone had not been out of the reception

Chagrined, the secretservice operative watched Menzone stroll about, then prepare for his departure. Vic,

although his suspicions still persisted, decided not to follow. He had made one bull trailing Alvarez Menzone

upon another night. He knew where the man could be reached. Vic remained as Menzone left.

TEN minutes afterward, an excited attache appeared in the reception room. Most of the guests had left. Hence

the man's wild gestures were not noticed as he passed the word to another member of the legation. The

second man gesticulated, motioning the informant away. Calming himself, the man who had received the

Vic Marquette hurried to the passage which the first attache had taken. He saw a light from an opened door

near the end of the hall. He hastened to that spot. He viewed two men: one the attache who had brought the

news; the second, a helpless attache bound and gagged upon the floor. Beyond was an opened vault.

The ambassador arrived. With alarmed eyes, he stared at the two men; one freeing the other from his bonds.

He saw Vic Marquette. The secretservice operative showed his badge. The ambassador nodded. He made

Scurrying attaches were entering. The ambassador addressed them in Spanish. He told them to go back to the

reception room; to give no indication of the fact that trouble had occurred here. All left, save the ambassador,

As the ambassador began his inspection of the opened vault, a motion occurred at the end of the darkened

hall. A window moved noiselessly upward. A dim form was outlined in the space. Silent footsteps

approached the lighted doorway. Like a specter, The Shadow viewed the scene within the room.

The ambassador had turned to Vic Marquette. Soberly, the grizzled diplomat was announcing his discovery.

"Important correspondence has been stolen," he declared, in English. "It is serious, senor. Very serious."

"It is the correspondence, senor, which was carried by Lito Carraza, the night that men sought to kill him

He pointed to the attache who had been found on the floor. The ambassador quizzed his aid in Spanish. The

man replied. Vic understood the words; the ambassador, not knowing this, went on to translate them.

"He cannot identify his assailant, senor," explained the ambassador. "He says that he was struck down

suddenly. The man who opened the vault, turned off the lights. He used a little light of his own.

"Senor Fourrier must learn of this. We must notify him at once. Nothing must be said. Those papers are

important, but their existence must be kept a secret. It would be a terrible mistake, senor, to let this be known

"No, senor," returned the ambassador with a shake of his head. "It is incomprehensible."

Vic Marquette stood silent while the ambassador closed the vault. Evidently the head of the legation was

anxious to suppress the news of robbery. It was Vic Marquette's duty to comply. Nevertheless, the operative

At the doorway of the room, he stopped the ambassador and made a cautious statement of the suspicions

"I was watching a man who was here tonight," explained Vic. "A South American not connected with an

embassy. He was out of sight a while before this happened. If he's the robber, you can count on me to get

"An invited guest," explained an attache, who had overheard the name. "He is here to obtain capital for

"I recall him," interposed the ambassador. "I would not have suspected him of theft. Do you feel sure "

"I'm going to trace him," interrupted Marquette. "I'll take the matter up with my chief. I simply wanted you to

They had reached the hall. The ambassador was nodding with a show of satisfaction. Side by side with Vic

Marquette, the uniformed diplomat moved toward the reception room, with the attaches following.

DARKNESS moved in the hallway past the door from which the men had come. Keen eyes beneath a

broadbrimmed slouch hat watched the departure. The quartet reached the reception room. The Shadow

With piercing gaze, The Shadow stared into the lighted room which held the closed vault. Then, with a quick

turn that brought a swish from the black cloak which shrouded his form, the mysterious visitor departed by

The window closed noiselessly. A figure glided through the gloom at the side of the embassy building. The

The Shadow had arrived after the theft had been completed. He had seen the ambassador's discovery that the

correspondence had been stolen. He had heard the plans to keep the matter quiet. He had learned of Vic

The Shadow's own agent Harry Vincent was covering Menzone. The Shadow, himself, had appeared in

the vicinity of Athena Court. Yet The Shadow had not made his secret entrance into the embassy until after

Why had The Shadow failed to appear beforehand? What was the answer to the passive, hidden part that he

ON the evening following the robbery at the embassy, Harry Vincent was seated in Alvarez Menzone's living

room going over statistics which pertained to the South American's railway projects.

Menzone was also present. He had assigned this duty to Harry. Relieved of detail, Menzone was reading

"Ah!" Menzone spoke to Harry. "Here is an account of the embassy affair. The one that I attended last night.

There was a dryness in Menzone's tone that caught Harry's prompt attention. It seemed as though Menzone

were enjoying a little joke of his own. Harry was unconvinced of Menzone's actions on the preceding night.

Menzone had left early to attend the embassy function. He had returned about midnight. Harry, supposedly

He had seen Menzone studying a stack of papers. He had noted a gleam of satisfaction on the South

American's face. Then Harry had dropped out of sight, to watch Menzone tiptoe from the apartment. It was

What was the purpose of these secretive actions? That was a question which baffled Harry Vincent. He had

left a coded report for The Shadow, behind the fire extinguisher in the hallway. But there had been no word

Working on statistics, Harry found his thoughts reverting to Menzone. He was convinced that the South

American's railroad plans were a cover for some other operation. Yet Harry had discovered nothing

The telephone bell began to ring from the study. Harry arose from his chair. Menzone, also rising, waved his

"Keep on with your work, Vincent," he said, in his peculiarly accented style. "Allow me to answer the

Was Menzone expecting the call? Harry decided that such must be the case. He saw Menzone enter the study.

He saw the door close but it did not fully shut. Laying his work aside, Harry tiptoed to the study door.

MENZONE was at the telephone. Harry could see him through the opened crack. The South American had

For a moment, Harry took the words for Spanish. Then the unfamiliar sound impressed him. Drawing a

pencil and an envelope from his pocket, Harry jotted down the odd words that he had heard, spelling them in

"Sovo," Menzone was saying. "Bole bota atex vodo of alta... Alk rofe folo folo bole rojo..."

Menzone was listening. His smile increased as he thumbed the little book on the table before him. Then, in a

"Alk deek kire... Fee... Sake hoda. Seek alta eeta... Kye kye deek rema. Reen alk kode... Alk deek deek

Harry was copying these words as the receiver clicked. He looked up hastily, just in time to see Menzone

open a desk drawer and thrust the little book away. Menzone locked the drawer. This delay was fortunate. It

gave Harry, still copying the final words, time to scurry back to the living room.

When Menzone arrived, Harry was back at work. The envelope was in his pocket. Menzone glanced at his

"I am going out," he announced. "I shall be back within an hour. Remain here, Vincent."

The moment that Menzone had left, Harry sprang to his feet. He approached the window. He saw Menzone

arrive on the sidewalk below. The South American was carrying his briefcase of papers. Harry saw him hail a

Apparently, Menzone was on his way to hold a conference with persons interested in his enterprises. Such

would have been Harry's final decision, but for one fact the oddly worded phone conversation which

Harry realized that he had listened to an unintelligible language. The words which he had heard would prove

useful in deciphering it; but they were comparatively few. The real key lay in the little book that Menzone

Hurrying to the study, Harry extracted a set of keys from his pocket. He found one that fitted the lock. He

opened the drawer. He discovered the pamphlet. There was no wording on its paper cover. The title page,

On the next page, Harry discovered short explanatory paragraphs. They were followed by a vocabulary of

words. Seizing pencil and paper, Harry began to jot down notes in shorthand, that he might copy the body of

These were specimens of the notations which Harry made: (Note: When he reached this point of his narrative,

The Shadow supplied me with a copy of the Agro code book. It consisted of a pamphlet of some 28 pages,

printed in small type. In preparing this chronicle, I have not attempted to provide the complete vocabulary as

copied by Harry Vincent, as space would not permit. Instead, I have included only those words required to

translate all the Agro conversations which appear in this story. MAXWELL GRANT.)

Harry began to study the vocabulary. Here he found a list of words and began to write them as rapidly as

possible. In capital letters, he noted the Agro words; after them, words in parentheses that were evidently the

pronunciations as they would sound in English; these pronunciations appeared only where necessary:

HARRY was impressed by the vocabulary, as he jotted down these words among many more. He noted how

words were opposites: dovo and vodo day and night; rik and kir here and there. He was also impressed by

the verbs; how the simple change of a single letter made the tense present, future, or past. While wondering

about adjectives, he came across a notation which stated that the repetition of such a word gave it

comparative or superlative degree. The example was "voso" for "bad;" "voso voso" for "very bad."

Harry noted the alphabetical arrangement of the numerals. The entire pamphlet contained but a few hundred

terms and he rapidly completed his copying. Then, with eagerness, Harry brought the jotted envelope from

Harry wrote this first in simplified Agro; then beneath it, the English translation, gained from a search

Harry pondered. The phrase "night less one" puzzled him. Then he caught the meaning. He inscribed, the

Alk deek kire... Fee... Sake hoda. Seek alta eeta. Kye kye deek rema. Reen alk kode... Alk deek deek rema.

"I shall come there... Yes... Hour eight. Minute one five. They will come later. When I have left... I shall

Harry saw quickly that "hour eight, minute one five" simply meant fifteen minutes after eight. The system of

notation, in Agro, was reduced to nine digits and a cipher, numbers being formed as one would give a

He also observed that "deek deek," literally "shall come shall come" signified "shall come back." The word

"the" was not used regularly in Agro, but Harry found a notation that "co" meant "the" whenever necessary.

A simple example was given: "co ka," literally "the him" meant "the man." "Co ki ki," literally "the them,"

Harry deposited the code book back in the drawer. He knew that he had made a remarkable discovery. This

unfamiliar language, Agro, was obviously the means of communication between crooks who were working

toward a common cause. Alvarez Menzone was a member of that band. He was keeping an appointment at

Harry glanced at his watch. It was nearly nine o'clock. Menzone might be back at any time. Harry began to

fold the sheets that he had copied. He stopped, fancying that he heard footsteps in the hallway.

It could not be Jose. The lazy Filipino had retired before eight o'clock. Was Menzone making a surreptitious

Harry listened intently. He decided that his imagination must be working. He turned his gaze downward

toward the papers that he was folding. Again the sound. Harry looked up quickly. The door to the room was

A dawning recognition completed itself as Harry heard the words. He knew this intruder. It was Vic

THE man at the door sensed Harry's expression. He advanced into the room. He eyed Harry closely. He

"Working as secretary for Alvarez Menzone," returned Harry promptly. "I've only had the job for about a

Marquette became thoughtful. Harry Vincent was the man of whom he had spoken to Fourrier the one

whom Vic Marquette had good reason to class as an agent of The Shadow. Already Vic had come to a

conclusion, namely that Harry's presence as Menzone's secretary was final proof that The Shadow was

Vic knew well that Harry would not perhaps could not make any statements that involved The Shadow's

activities. At the same time, Harry Vincent could be sworn in as Vic's aid and the secretservice operative

"He's going to find me," interposed Marquette. "I'm going to nab that fellow, Vincent. What's more, you're

Harry nodded. There was no alternative. The Shadow had given no instructions to cover an emergency such

as this. On occasions where choice was needed, it was the part of The Shadow's agents to use their own

discretion. Duty prompted Harry to side with Vic Marquette, in preference to Menzone.

"What's this?" Vic Marquette had spied the code book in the drawer. He brought it out. "Does this belong to

"Yes," returned Harry, seizing the opportunity. "Menzone is a crook so far as I can see. He was talking on

the telephone tonight, using an odd language. I unlocked the desk drawer after he had gone. I found the code

"Keep your copy," chuckled Vic. "I'm keeping the original. Say, Vincent you've uncovered something. I

know you're on the level. This is another time you'll be working with me on the showdown."

Harry produced the copy of Menzone's conversation. Vic Marquette chuckled and clapped his companion on

Neither man was observing the door. Neither saw the figure that appeared there, plainly framed: A tall,

spectral form, clad in black cloak and hat. The Shadow, like Vic Marquette, had arrived at the apartment,

Watching with burning eyes, listening to the words that passed between his agent and the secretservice

operative, The Shadow was divining what had occurred. He heard Vic Marquette muttering the sentences

which Harry had translated. As completely as if he had received a report from his agent, The Shadow was

"So that's the game, eh!" Marquette was saying. "No wonder those foxes have been dodging us. Agro an

international language. Say I've run into some cuckoo lingoes, but this has them all stopped.

"There's a bigger bird in back of this, Vincent. This fellow Menzone is working for him. That's where

Menzone has gone tonight to see the big shot. We'll be ready for Menzone you and I. When we meet him,

we'll be on our way. We won't stop until we've met the big bird that's in back of him."

Vic Marquette arose as he spoke. The secretservice man was ready to spread the snare for Menzone's return.

The figure of The Shadow faded into darkness beyond the door. Silently, it issued from the hallway; swiftly it

The final barrier closed behind The Shadow. The black form merged with the darkness of the stairs. Leaving

Vic Marquette and Harry Vincent to trap Alvarez Menzone, The Shadow had left for the street below.

A whispered, sibilant laugh came from the darkness where The Shadow had passed, unseen.

DARVIN ROCHELLE was walking up the marble steps that led to the second floor of his palatial residence.

He was carrying his cane; as he reached the top, he used it to aid his halting limp.

A smile beamed on the face of Darvin Rochelle. He had made his trip downstairs in company with Alvarez

Menzone, after an excellent interview with that capable worker. He had spent a while on the ground floor;

now he was returning to his office. It was nine o'clock and Rochelle was expecting another visitor.

Reaching the office, Rochelle found Thurk, the dwarf, crouching in a corner. Chuckling, Rochelle addressed

"Kay kode. Kay zay sovo. Sovo sovo, Thurk. Alk rojo eef bole. Co kay atex deek golo. Kay zay voso. Alk

Rochelle's use of Agro displayed an interesting variant in the term, "rojo eef." The use of the negative "eef"

with the verb "rojo" signified "not." In English, the statement signified in full: (Note: Although Rochelle

adapted English idioms to Agro, the language itself followed a form patterned after languages of Latin

derivation. This was true of verbs. The word "bata," for example, could be interpreted as "come" or "is

coming," Similarly, the past tense "bota," meant "came" or "have come." Agro, as Rochelle himself stated,

had not reached its completed stage. Rochelle had evidently postponed its further development while he used

its simplified rudiments for the purpose of communication with his agents. MAXWELL GRANT)

"He has gone. He is good. Very good, Thurk. I did not need you. The man that is coming now. He is bad. I

Thurk's eyes bulged. It was the dwarf's way of expressing eagerness. Crouching in his corner, Thurk's shape

seemed monstrous. Long, thin arms, attached to a dumpy body, gave him the appearance of an octopus.

Rochelle returned to the door of the anteroom. He made a significant gesture and spoke the words:

Thurk understood the meaning: "Go there now." The dwarf arose. Rochelle continued through the anteroom

A FEW minutes passed. Rochelle saw his alert attendant step forward to open the front door. The servant

below had spied someone approaching the house. Croydon Herkimer appeared as the door opened.

The bulky visitor saw Rochelle standing at the top of the stairs. He ascended to receive a welcome greeting.

The man with the limp pointed to the chair at the side of the desk. Herkimer took it; Rochelle occupied his

The profiteer produced a small portfolio that he had carried under his arm. He placed it upon the desk.

"Companions in crime, eh?" he questioned. "The old guard the others who shared your profiteering years

ago. This is excellent, Herkimer. Excellent. You have done great work, providing me with these names."

"That was not my purpose!" exclaimed Herkimer in alarm. "I chose those firms because I knew they would

"You have simplified my task," interposed Rochelle serenely. "I can deal with them directly now. All that I

have to do is study their past record. Then I can handle them as I handled you."

Herkimer showed repressed indignation. Crooked by nature, he was hypocrite enough to worry about his own

"Do not be perturbed." Rochelle's tone was a suave purr. "All will go well with you, Herkimer. I am making

matters easier for you. I shall reward you for your services. But first" Rochelle was tapping on the desk "I

Herkimer shuddered as he met Rochelle's insidious gaze. He had a feeling that he was about to learn facts that

"My plans are completed," declared Rochelle. "Six men have died, Herkimer, because I wanted them

silenced. My only failure came with the seventh. I needed correspondence from a certain legation. I failed to

"Then I obtained the services of a firstclass lieutenant. Alvarez Menzone a man from South America. He

"I have sent the papers to the proper places. The first ones were of minor consequence. The final ones that

Menzone brought were remarkable in their revelations. Their publication will create chaos provided only

"Tonight, Herkimer, I shall strike. I am assembling all of my minions. Each one will have an appointed task

of murder. I shall depend upon my gang leader, Bugs Ritler, to show the way. He has assembled a crew of

Rochelle drew a sealed envelope from his desk drawer. He flourished it before the eyes of his visitor.

"The names of nine men are in this envelope!" cackled Rochelle. "All are South Americans who at present

are in Washington. Some are connected with legations. Others are here for the PanAmerican Convention."

"All nine shall die tonight," he rasped. "Wholesale assassination. Their deaths will create tremendous

indignation. Murder will be attributed to the agents of other South American nations. Then will come my

"You see the result, Herkimer? War impending now will be unleashed. Millions will be our profit.

Herkimer steadied his hands against the edge of the desk. He was gasping in horror.

"Not murder!" Herkimer's voice showed fear of consequences. "I I do not deal in murder, Rochelle!"

"Murder perhaps," admitted Herkimer. "But it it is not assassination. No no I can not be a party to

"I talked with Menzone," remarked Rochelle quietly. "He left just before you arrived. He seemed pleased

with my scheme. He will be here, with my other henchmen. When I choose men, Herkimer" Rochelle's

"This is my ultimatum. You are with me or against me. There is no middle course. Which is your choice?"

"I am against you!" exclaimed Herkimer. "That is my answer. You think that you hold me in your fist. You

do so long as you desist from your plan. If you attempt to expose my past, you will be forced to answer the

"Yes? I hardly think so. Your own activities will be curtailed. Your dreams of an empire will be ended."

ROCHELLE had arisen. He was leaning on his cane, as he glowered at Herkimer. The profiteer, encouraged

"I shall make a bargain with you, Rochelle," he said shrewdly. "Give me back my list give me the files

which you hold concerning my past. Pay me a reasonable compensation for my silence. Then I shall do

nothing to disturb your schemes of murder. Afterward, if your plans have succeeded, I shall be willing to deal

"Hypocrite!" snarled Rochelle. "It is not murder that repulses you. It is your own safety that you are

considering. You want to make sure of profit with no danger. You would like to hold the upper hand.

"You think that you can balk me. Try it. Compared to you, Herkimer, I am a benefactor of mankind. I cover

my crimes, but I do not try to salve a selfish conscience. I refuse your terms. Again, I ask you for your

"You shall get it," retorted Herkimer. "I have given you your last chance. You have refused it. I am leaving,

Rochelle, and my first act will be to inform the Washington authorities of your insidious scheme. You have

gone too deep to crawl out now. Try to expose my past. You will not be believed. That is my answer,

Rochelle was gripping the desk with his free hand. He held his cane in his right. Herkimer, leaning forward,

was watching it. Contemptuously, he was ready to risk a physical battle with Rochelle. It was in tune with

Herkimer's character. Big and powerful, he was a coward at heart. A man of weak appearance as Rochelle

Rochelle dropped the head of his cane against the desk. It seemed like a gesture of resignation. Herkimer

laughed. He did not know that Rochelle had given an appointed signal. He did not know what was happening

AS Rochelle's cane thudded against the desk, the upper hemisphere of the big globe opened. From its interior

came the form of Thurk, the dwarf. The evil creature popped forth with the speed of a jumping jack.

In his long, scrawny hand, he held a long, thinbladed knife. With only an instant's pause, Thurk swung

forward and downward, to bury the deathdealing weapon deep between Croydon Herkimer's unprotected

The profiteer sank without a gasp. His body crumpled to the floor upon a square rug that rested beneath his

chair. Thurk leaped from the globe and scrambled forward to crouch above his victim. Rochelle stood with an

The dwarf hoisted Herkimer's body upon his shoulders. Gleefully, he staggered from the room through the

door that led to the spiral staircase in the rear. On the small rug where Herkimer had lain, a pool of blood

Rochelle went to a closet and brought out a rug of the same size, but of different pattern. He moved the chair

aside and placed the rug upon it. He went behind the desk. When Thurk returned, Rochelle pointed to the

Thurk grinned. He folded the bloodstained rug and carried it from the room. The slight trace of crimson had

seeped through. Rochelle covered it with the new rug and put the chair back in position. He closed the huge

The insidious leer on Rochelle's features betrayed the fiend's anticipation. To Darvin Rochelle, the violent

death that Thurk had dealt to Croydon Herkimer was a mere appetizer to the feast of murder that was planned

DARVIN ROCHELLE, most insidious of schemers, had laid a perfect death trap for Croydon Herkimer.

Through it, the supercrook had dealt doom to a lesser exponent of evil. Herkimer had been willing to

While Rochelle was still gloating over the crafty fashion in which he had disposed of the profiteer whom he

In the apartment on the third floor of Athena Court, Vic Marquette and Harry Vincent were lying in wait for

Alvarez Menzone. Had Darvin Rochelle known this, his gloating would have turned to apprehension. Alvarez

Menzone had become a most important cog in the criminal mechanism controlled by Rochelle.

Vic Marquette, swearing in Harry to service, had assumed full charge. Picking Menzone's living room at the

strategic point, Vic had posted Harry behind a table opposite the door. In turn, Vic had chosen a corner by a

bookcase. Vic had provided Harry with a revolver. Waiting, the pair was ready to trap Menzone the moment

Through the hush of the room came Vic's inquiring undertone a question addressed to Harry Vincent:

"No." Harry's whisper was reassuring. "Jose is always asleep. We have not disturbed him. We can handle him

"All right." Vic seemed satisfied. "I'm going to cover this fellow Menzone the moment he walks in. You back

"There's a back door," remarked Harry. "It leads to a hall by the fire tower. Jose could scramble that way; but

"Watch the passage then," ordered Vic. "After we bag Menzone. We're going to haul in the Filipino, too

MINUTES ticked by. Vic had raised a window to a space of several inches. He heard a sound from the street.

A minute; then came the dull, mechanical sound of the elevator. Both Harry and Vic were timing it. Both

Had Alvarez Menzone returned? Or had some other dweller on this floor come up by the elevator? No

footsteps could be heard. The answer depended upon whether or not the click of a key would sound at the

A full minute. Harry and Vic decided that Menzone had not arrived; nevertheless, they were tense. Some

trifling delay might have caused the South American to pause outside the door of his apartment.

Then came the unexpected. Harry Vincent, startled by the sound of a fierce snarl, turned quickly toward the

opening to the passage that led by Menzone's study. Vic Marquette copied Harry's example.

Both men were staring at a tall, sallowfaced intruder who had appeared from the passage. It was Alvarez

In his hand, the South American held a stubnosed revolver. From his position, he had Harry Vincent and

Vic Marquette on an almost direct line. The gleaming grin on Menzone's face; the fierce challenge that

Helplessly, Harry Vincent and Vic Marquette dropped their revolvers and raised their hands. The trappers

were trapped. Menzone's sneaking arrival had caught them unaware. The South American had entered from a

"Ah, senores." Menzone's velvet tones showed hidden venom. "You have been awaiting me? Very kind of

you. I regret that I was unable to oblige you by entering through the door which you were watching.

"Sometimes, senores, one remembers a trifling mistake that may cause trouble. Tonight, I recalled a little

"Ah, senores, that is why I decided to come in from the back door, after I had ascended in the elevator. I was

Menzone was moving into the living room as he spoke. An emphatic gesture of his gun hand brought

understanding to Harry Vincent and Vic Marquette. With hands raised, the trapped trappers followed a

beckoning motion. Menzone stepped aside and herded his prisoners toward the passage. Keeping them

constantly covered with his revolver, he marched them into the study and forced them up against the wall.

Standing beyond the open door, Menzone uttered a sharp, hissing call for Jose. He repeated the cry. Its noise

was penetrating. Menzone stepped into the study as Jose appeared. The Filipino entered, sleepily rubbing his

CALMLY keeping Harry and Vic covered, the South American seated himself at the desk. He called a

number on the telephone. His eyes gleamed as he recognized the voice at the other end.

"Alt Mode," announced Menzone. These words, Harry recalled, were letter symbols of the Agro alphabet. A.

"Boda co kye kye," stated Menzone. "Rike... Ode alkro gomo... Fee... Teeba alk alk kye kye?... Sovo... Bole

Harry was grasping the meaning as Menzone hung up the receiver. The South American had been talking to

"Two men. Here... At my house... Yes... Shall we question them?... Good... You will send men..."

Vic Marquette stared blankly. He had not examined the Agro code book closely enough to gain even a crude

understanding of the phonetic language. Menzone smiled. With a bow, he explained:

"You are fortunate, senores," he declared, in a sarcastic tone. "I have just talked with a man who is interested

in your capture. He likes my suggestion that you be sent to him. He is making the necessary arrangements.

"You will have the pleasure, senores, of being present at a most important meeting that will be set for

midnight. I shall be there with many others. You will be questioned at that time. Perhaps, when persuaded,

He turned and spoke to Jose. The Filipino went from the study. He returned, bringing two lengths of rope,

which Harry remembered having seen about a large, oldfashioned trunk in Menzone's bedroom.

Gripping Jose's right hand with his own left, Menzone drew it to his gun hand; with a deft movement, he

While Jose held Harry and Vic at bay, Menzone went to each in turn. With rapid skill he trussed the prisoners

and left them seated on the floor. He whisked handkerchiefs from a desk drawer and used them as gags.

Vic Marquette recalled the bound attache whom he had seen at the legation. He realized how cleverly the

bonds had been applied to that man. He knew that Menzone was unquestionably the robber who had opened

"Guard them," ordered Menzone, speaking in Spanish to Jose. "I shall leave the back door open. Men will

come to take the prisoners. Remain here, Jose, until you hear from me. Be careful not to harm these prisoners.

Jose grunted his understanding. Alvarez Menzone turned and leered viciously as he faced Harry Vincent and

Vic Marquette; then his suave smile returned. The shrewd South American bowed ironically and strolled

from the study, leaving Jose in charge. Harry and Vic heard the front door close, announcing his departure.

Vic Marquette's prediction was to be realized. Through an encounter with Alvarez Menzone, he and Harry

Vincent were to meet the conspirator behind the schemes in which Menzone had played a single part. But

they were not to meet that enemy as Vic had hoped. Helpless prisoners, they were to be carried to his

Harry Vincent's thoughts were bitter. If only he had been able to notify The Shadow. Harry did not know that

The Shadow had been here. He did not realize that he and Vic Marquette had been left to prepare their trap

Two against one: snarers in ambush! The odds seemingly had been with Harry and Vic, yet the waiting

How much had The Shadow banked on their success? That was a question. The fact remained that Alvarez

Darvin Rochelle's lieutenant would keep the midnight meeting with his chief, despite the efforts of Harry

Vincent and Vic Marquette. The two men upon whom The Shadow could most certainly rely had failed to

IT was nearly eleven o'clock. Clyde Burke was at the Club Rivoli. He had come here at The Shadow's

bidding in response to one of those mysterious communications that came at unexpected intervals.

Clyde's task tonight was a simple one. He had merely to keep an eye on events in the roulette room. Two men

mentioned by The Shadow were under his observation. They were the secretservice operatives whom Fulton

Clyde had also looked for gangsters in the booths close by the side entrance from the roulette room. Those

booths were empty. Clyde had decided why. Whistler Ingliss unquestionably knew that secretservice men

Whistler, himself, was free from surveillance. The secretservice men had evidently passed him. Clyde

Burke, however, had not. On two or three occasions, he had seen Whistler saunter through the opening

The Shadow's agent had a hunch. Beyond the doorway at the side were cardrooms. What if Whistler had a

new crew of mobsters stationed in one of those rooms! Out of sight of the secretservice operatives, the thugs

That was why, as eleven neared, Clyde Burke decided to end his passive observations. Although The Shadow

had ordered him to remain in the roulette room, Clyde felt the urge to extend the field of his inspection.

Whistler Ingliss had gone to his office. Clyde Burke decided to follow. The roulette room was well thronged.

Clatter of chips and cries of croupiers caused considerable din, broken by the exasperated exclamations of

Clyde made an easy circuit of the room, reached the doorway at the side and stepped into the passage. He had

hopes that he would gain some valuable information to give The Shadow, should communication with his

Clyde descended the steps. He went by a side passage that led off to the side exit from the Club Rivoli. He

"Fee." The words that Whistler uttered were in Agro. "Kye kye kode. Sake alta joda. Seek boda joda... Kye

Clyde did not understand the strange jargon. Whistler Ingliss was reporting to Darvin Rochelle. The gambler

was telling his chief that they the mobsmen had gone; that they had left at twenty minutes after ten; that

they would come to Rochelle and would bring along the men whom they had been sent to get.

This meant that Bugs Ritler and his new squad of mobsters were probably at Athena Court, picking up Harry

Vincent and Vic Marquette, the prisoners who had been trapped through the cunning of Alvarez Menzone.

Whistler Ingliss hung up the receiver. The gambler opened a desk drawer and removed a revolver which he

pocketed. He was preparing to leave the Club Rivoli. He had not mentioned the hour of midnight over the

telephone; but he had an appointment at that time. With the others of Darvin Rochelle's evil horde, he was

Whistler was trilling a soft tune. Never perturbed, the gambler was as methodical and unconcerned as he

would have been if starting to an ordinary social affair. A proof, however, of Whistler's keenness was already

on the way. The soft lilt that he was trilling was but a covering for a suspicion which he had gained.

Dropping hands into pocket, Whistler stood in meditative fashion. Suddenly he wheeled. In quick fashion, he

bounded to the door of his office; at the same time, he whisked his gun from his pocket. A second later, he

had yanked the door inward and was standing with revolver pressed against Clyde Burke's ribs.

Clyde's hands went up. Gripping Clyde's shoulder, Whistler yanked The Shadow's agent into the room and

"So you're a wise guy, eh?" demanded Whistler. "Snooping into my business. What's the idea?"

"I know your game," rasped Whistler. "You're no government dick, but you've been around this place too

often to be on the level. I figured that the Feds weren't the only blokes on the job. Speak up. What do you

He glowered fiercely. Clyde Burke felt that his life was in the balance. Whistler seemed ready to loose the

The side door of the office had opened, silently, by inches. Peering into the room were a pair of blazing eyes;

The Shadow had arrived. A hidden witness of this scene, he was covering Whistler Ingliss. Had the gambler

sought to press finger to trigger, doom would have been his lot. The Shadow's automatic was ready to bark

THE gambler's glare faded. Whistler laughed. He sat down at the desk. He lifted the telephone receiver. He

put in a call. He heard Darvin Rochelle on the wire. In Agro, Whistler explained that he had taken a prisoner.

Rochelle's instructions were the response. Whistler checked them in brief phrases:

"Fee... Alk reef kay reen alk dake... Alk alk teeba kay reen kay beeta... Alk dake golo..."

"Yes. I shall bring him when I come. We shall hear him, when he will talk. I am coming now."

Whistler Ingliss arose. He made a gesture to Clyde Burke. The words that he uttered in English were a partial

"You're going with me," Whistler informed Clyde. "If you know what's good for you, you'll sit tight. You'll

have a chance to do some talking where we're going. And listen, bozo I'm a guy that's ready with the rod.

Clyde saw. He knew that his only course was to do exactly as Whistler commanded. By such action, he

Whistler approached Clyde and nudged him with the revolver. The Shadow's agent willingly complied with

"We're going out the side door," stated Whistler. "No squawk out of you see? Walk along like you were a

Whistler edged Clyde toward the door to the side passage. That door was closing. It locked. Whistler did not

see the motion of the door nor did he hear the lock turn. The Shadow had withdrawn.

Producing a key, Whistler unlocked the littleused door with his left hand. With Clyde Burke at his side, the

He marched Clyde to a coupe. Taking the wheel, Whistler drove from the driveway, growling a warning

After the coupe had departed, a dim figure appeared in the glow that came from a side window of the Club

Rivoli. A tall, spectral figure stood silent; then from hidden lips came a soft, weird laugh that was forbidding

The Shadow had seen all. Yet he had not moved to aid his captured agent! Instead, he had withdrawn from

WHAT strange motive had withheld this king of action? The Shadow's failure to aid Harry Vincent and Vic

Marquette was explainable: they had been capable of caring for themselves. But Clyde Burke had been

Some answer lay behind this riddle. Yet it was strange that The Shadow should remain passive at the moment

when pursuit of Whistler Ingliss would have led him to the secret gathering of minions of crime.

The answer was The Shadow's laugh. Eerie and unfathomable as it sounded in sibilant tones, that mockery

The Shadow had withdrawn. His gliding steps were slow as they took him into darkness toward a parked cab

Darvin Rochelle Alvarez Menzone Whistler Ingliss the lesser exponents of crime all would be free to

meet. The Shadow, in his dilatory appearance, could have gained but little inkling of what lay at stake.

Apparently, The Shadow had withdrawn. Why? Only The Shadow knew. The faint echoes of his laugh had

been vague. Were they significant of hidden plans or were they acceptance of defeat?

DARVIN ROCHELLE was standing on the first floor of his palatial mansion. Three of his servants were

"Be on guard. Our meeting must not be disturbed. Two more are to come: Senor Menzone and Miss

Debronne. Ring once when Menzone arrives; then send him up. Twice for Miss Debronne."

Chimes were tolling the hour of midnight when Darvin Rochelle turned toward the marble staircase. Rochelle

limped to the steps; moved upward, then resumed his halting pace as he passed through the darkened

The buzz of voices sounded as Rochelle entered his office and closed the door behind him. Seated about the

room were trusted minions: Maurice Twindell, Whistler Ingliss, and the gang leader, Bugs Ritler. Two of

Ritler's mobsmen were present as guards. They occupied a corner of the room toward the anteroom. Between

them, trussed on the floor, were three prisoners: Vic Marquette, Harry Vincent, and Clyde Burke.

The gags had been removed. Yet none of the three captives attempted to voice an outcry. The presence of the

mobsters, the handles of big revolvers jutting from their hips, were sufficient to command silence.

Darvin Rochelle was smiling as he sat behind his huge desk. All the gloss had gone from his sometime silky

countenance. Darvin Rochelle was a fiend unmasked, gloating as he began to outline the way to final

"Two members of our band," declared Rochelle, "have not yet arrived. I shall reserve the details of our

coming operations until they join us. A few preliminary remarks, however, may be appropriate.

"Tonight, we shall deal in wholesale assassination. Within this envelope" he was holding up a sealed packet

"Each death will be simple of execution. I have prepared all details and will appoint the proper workers.

Moreover" Rochelle's smile was broadening "I have arranged for the planting of false clews that will

"After our instructions have been given, we shall proceed with another task. We have visitors tonight"

Rochelle was indicating the prisoners with a sweep of his hands "who have responded to our urge to attend

this meeting. Perhaps they may have statements of their own to make. Perhaps not. It does not matter. We

shall dispose of our guests in fitting fashion whether they choose to talk or to remain silent.

"One is a secretservice operative." Rochelle pointed to Marquette. "We have dealt with his ilk before.

Another is a newspaper correspondent who showed overanxiety in his quest for news." Rochelle indicated

Clyde Burke; then pointed to Harry Vincent. "Here we have a secretary who betrayed his trust. He tried to

"Fortunately, his employer was my competent lieutenant, Alvarez Menzone. To Menzone, my friends,

belongs the credit for the final step which brought us to this time for action. He gained the last papers that I

needed. Tonight, we embark upon the slaughter that will throw a continent into chaos that will make you,

the companions of Darvin Rochelle, important factors in the building of a mighty empire!"

Rochelle pointed emphatically to the massive globe, upon which the conical outline of South America

showed most prominently. While the fiend who plotted war, was chuckling in unrepressed triumph, a buzzer

"Ah!" exclaimed Rochelle. "Menzone is here. He will be with us shortly. I left word for him to come directly

to this meeting. You, Twindell, deserve credit for forming contact with Alvarez Menzone.

"The newest among us, Menzone has proven his competence. He will share in the deeds that I have planned

Rochelle paused. There was a rap from the other side of the door to the anteroom. Rochelle issued a friendly

FOR a brief instant all within Rochelle's office stared blankly. Then came harsh gasps. The darkness of the

anteroom was moving. Like a creature from some hidden vault of space, a form was emerging from

A being clad totally in black. A form enshrouded by the folds of an inkyhued cloak; features concealed

beneath the brim of a broad slouch hat. Such was the weird shape that Rochelle and his minions saw.

Beneath the hat brim were two burning eyes. Their fierce glare held a menace. From two hands incased in

gloves of black projected mammoth automatics with tunneled muzzles trained upon the trapped fiends who

The gasp of recognition came from Bugs Ritler. The gang leader had seen the destructive power of this

mighty fighter, the night that Lito Carraza had been saved from death upon the Virginia speedway.

Then, The Shadow had met armed mobsters and had stilled their fire with slaughtering lead from his

automatics. Now, The Shadow had come upon a group that was expectant of no danger.

Fiends sat helpless as The Shadow swept into the room. Circling toward the empty chair at the side of

Rochelle's desk, The Shadow kept his guns trained on his clustered foemen. The mobsters who guarded the

Each villain who viewed the muzzles of The Shadow's automatics, thought that both guns were directed fully

upon him. The black cloak swished; its crimson lining showed momentarily as The Shadow paused, just past

From this position, The Shadow covered everyone with the exception of Darvin Rochelle. Yet the master

plotter was afraid to make a move. Rising, he had gripped the desk with his left hand while he held his cane

clutched in his right. Motionless as a statue, he stared toward The Shadow so close that a quick swing of

"I have come," hissed The Shadow, "to end your schemes. You have prisoners. Release them!"

The command was directed toward one of the mobsters. Cowering, the man stooped and, tugged at the cords

The mobster ceased his work as he heard the sibilant command. With hands above his head, he stood against

the wall. Vic Marquette, struggling free from his loosened bonds, looked toward The Shadow. He understood

the order that showed in the glaring eyes. While helpless crooks watched, Vic released the cords that held

Three disarmed men were now at The Shadow's call. Guns were available, for they could seize them from the

crooks. But as they waited for The Shadow's bidding, the sound of a creepy laugh made the released prisoners

"You are awaiting Alvarez Menzone." The Shadow's words were directed toward Darvin Rochelle. "You

might continue to wait him forever. Alvarez Menzone is dead. He died in Caracas in 1931. That, Rochelle, is

"Alvarez Menzone was a murderer. He died at my bidding. His death was unknown. I, The Shadow, knew his

past. That was why I, The Shadow, chose to resurrect the personality of Alvarez Menzone to gain access to

The Shadow's head moved upward. The folds of the cloak collar dropped away. The umbra from the hat brim

vanished in the light. Darvin Rochelle stared aghast. The face which he and his minions were viewing was

THERE was no need for a further word. The truth had explained itself. Not once had The Shadow appeared

while Alvarez Menzone was present. The briefcase which Menzone had carried within its bulky interior

had been more than mere papers. That portfolio had included the black garb of The Shadow!

Harry Vincent understood. When Menzone had returned to the apartment tonight, he must have come guised

as The Shadow. There he had found Harry and Vic Marquette planning the capture of Alvarez Menzone. The

Vic Marquette understood. He realized that The Shadow, guised as Alvarez Menzone, had deliberately roused

his suspicions to draw Vic on the trail of the plotters with whom The Shadow as Menzone had formed

The capture of Harry Vincent and Vic Marquette had been essential, once they had pried into the affairs of

Alvarez Menzone. So had Clyde Burke, spying on Whistler Ingliss, been taken prisoner while The Shadow

The Shadow, knowing that he would be present, had no fears for the safety of the prisoners. But he had not

been willing to risk any step that might have caused Darvin Rochelle to postpone the meeting at which all the

Darvin Rochelle understood. As Alvarez Menzone, The Shadow had walked by the downstairs servants,

But there was another question that lay unanswered in Rochelle's startled brain. As though divining it, The

While his right hand automatic covered the crooks, his left arm rose to sweep the fold of the cloak collar

about the false features of Alvarez Menzone. The left hand disappeared momentarily; it reappeared, carrying

"The stolen correspondence," hissed The Shadow, "is within that envelope. The documents that Alvarez

Menzone delivered were spurious. They will be rejected as false when they reach South America. Your

Rochelle's left hand, gripping the desk, twitched itchingly. The master plotter wanted to grasp that envelope.

He feared to do so. He stared at The Shadow. He saw the burning eyes the leveled automatics beneath.

Close by, Rochelle observed that the eyes which the others thought were everywhere, were directed upon him

With a dejected leer, Rochelle let the handle of his cane fall heavily upon the surface of the desk. Feigning

fear, he stared toward those blazing eyes, which seemed to be looking through and past him.

All eyes were upon The Shadow. No one realized that Rochelle had given a signal. Before a single crook

could utter a gasp; before one of the released prisoners saw the danger, Darvin Rochelle's counterthrust had

The upper hemisphere of the huge globe had opened. Bobbing noiselessly from its interior was Thurk, the

hideous dwarf. Poised, the monster was beginning his downward swing to drive his wicked, longpointed

THE SHADOW'S body did not move. Beneath the descending knife of Thurk it remained a perfect goal for

the blade. But The Shadow, his eyes still steady, performed a motion that was swifter than that of Thurk.

Although his back was toward the monster, The Shadow was ready. His right hand swung beneath his left

arm. The right forefinger pressed the trigger of the automatic that it controlled. A burst of flame spat outward

Thurk's forward lunge ended as a wild scream came from the dwarf's hideous lips. His ribs shattered, Thurk

toppled backward in agony. His rebounding body thumped against the backtilted top of the globe.

As the dwarf writhed, his weight upset the pedestal. Rolling from the opened, overturned globe, Thurk

sprawled dead upon the rug beside the chair in which Croydon Herkimer had been slain.

The Shadow had met Rochelle's counterthrust. He had trumped the master plotter's buried ace. The laugh that

came amid the echoes of the gunshot brought a dawn of understanding to Rochelle's hateracked brain.

The Shadow had spotted the huge globe as a death trap. His visits here, in the guise of Alvarez Menzone, had

been accompanied by keen observation. Had The Shadow stood on the near side of the globe, close to the

But the Shadow had chosen the far side of the globe. His gaze, toward Rochelle, had gone beyond: to the

mahoganyframed mirror on the opposite side of the room. In that glass, The Shadow had eyed the huge

globe. He had chosen the very angle of vision that he needed to keep Thurk's hiding place in view.

Aiming with the mirror as his guide, The Shadow's shot had been no more than a simple test of his skillful

marksmanship. His steady hand, diving beneath the upraised arm, had ended the evil life of Rochelle's

Yet even as The Shadow laughed, Darvin Rochelle performed an action of his own. The insidious plotter was

The Shadow had turned one gun to finish Thurk. He had raised the other to keep the crooks at bay. Rochelle,

LEANING forward with left hand on the table, Rochelle delivered a vicious, downward swing with his heavy

cane. Had he aimed the stroke for The Shadow's body, the blackgarbed fighter could have whirled away

from it. But Rochelle, as he screamed an order to his minions, had chosen a more suitable objective.

His cane smashed against the automatic that bulged from The Shadow's left hand. It drove the weapon

The effect of the blow was twofold. Not only did it clear the menace of that automatic, the downward drop of

The Shadow's left arm clamped his second gun the one with which he had slain Thurk.

Rochelle's quick action brought the momentary interval needed to swing his henchmen into action. As they

Whistler Ingliss and Maurice Twindell reached to their pockets for revolvers. Bugs Ritler and his mobsters

The Shadow whirled. His swift turn swung him toward Rochelle. The master crook, sliding back with his

cane, was about to scramble, crablike to the rear door of the office. Had The Shadow paused to end the

Instead, The Shadow, swinging his unlimbered automatics, veered to meet the onrush. Tongues of flame

belched from the mighty weapons. Caught within the echoholding walls of the room, The Shadow's shots

Bugs Ritler staggered. One of his gangsters loosed a shot. His bullet zimmed past The Shadow's head, then

Vic Marquette was pouncing on the second mobster, who was aiming toward the weaving form of The

Shadow. The bark of an automatic forestalled Vic and the mobster as well. Vic saw the gangster fall before

Harry Vincent and Clyde Burke were alert. Each of The Shadow's agents had chosen a separate man. Harry

Twindell, thinking that the others could down The Shadow, wrenched away from Harry. Wheeling, he aimed

his revolver pointblank between Harry's eyes. Harry sprang forward to forestall the shot. His effort was too

HIS shot, however, never came. The Shadow had seen Harry's plight; a turn of his wrist with a trigger

Whistler Ingliss, fighting with Clyde Burke, delivered a glancing blow to Clyde's head. The newspaperman

slumped to the floor. Whistler, his lips pursed for an imaginary trill, snapped his wrist directly toward The

Gleaming eyes a tongue of forking flame these showed as The Shadow's gun barked in response to the

cool gambler's calculating aim. Whistler Ingliss had delayed a split second too long. His lips widened; his

hand went to his breast. Tottering, Whistler Ingliss wavered, then sprawled face foremost on the floor.

Vic Marquette had grabbed two revolvers from the floor. Plunging across the room, he caught Harry Vincent

by the arm. Vic had seen the havoc of The Shadow's fire. He knew that the minions within this room were

"Come!" Vic was shouting the order as he dragged Harry along. "This way! That's where he's gone the big

As The Shadow, now near the door to the anteroom, delivered his last deciding bullet, Vic Marquette and

Harry Vincent gained the door at the back of the room. Harry was clutching a gun that Vic had given him.

The final echoes of The Shadow's gunfire were broken by a new and strident sound. It was a peal of taunting

The Shadow had delivered doom to minions of crime. He, too, was ready to take up the search for Darvin

HARRY VINCENT and Vic Marquette were dashing down the spiral stairway. They knew the route, for it

"The house at the rear," panted Vic, as they clattered from the staircase. "That's where he's gone! Be ready,

The door to the courtyard was unlocked. Vic gripped Harry's arm as they reached the open. The two paused

momentarily to listen. Sound of gunfire were bursting from streets all around the area.

"The police!" exclaimed Vic. "Say how could they have got here this quick? Come on, Vincent; this will

Vic and Harry reached the house in back. A dim light showed in a rear room. Vic spied a doorway. He

opened it to show a flight of descending stairs. With Harry Vincent at his heels, the secretservice operative

A dim light showed in a cellar room; beyond it, another dimly lighted compartment. Harry Vincent clutched

Vic heard the sound. Within the stone walls of the cellar, it made a ghostly effect a slow, steady tapping

that was gradually drawing away. For a moment both men were startled by the uncanny noise. Then the

Vic Marquette nodded. They had overtaken the villain whom they sought. Somewhere, beyond the narrow

"Come!" Vic led a cautious advance. He and Harry crossed the first room swiftly, but with little noise. They

Together, the pursuers moved foot by foot into the further room. Vic's eyes were straight ahead. Harry's

wavered toward the floor. This was fortunate. Just as the tapping of the cane had ceased, Harry gripped Vic

The action was just in time. Vic Marquette's feet were on the edge of a steppingoff spot.

A rank odor surged to the nostrils of the pursuers. Their eyes accustomed to the gloom, Vic and Harry saw

what they had just escaped. They were on the lip of a deep pit; several feet down in the uncovered hole was a

THEIR eyes traveled further. They saw a second pit separated from the first by a thin, dividing side. Beyond

A chuckle brought eyes upward. With guns lowered, Harry and Vic were taken unaware. Their staring eyes

saw the figure that they sought. On the narrow ledge beyond the further pit stood Darvin Rochelle!

The fiend was standing backed against the wall. His cane was in his right hand. His left was drawing it away.

Before either watcher could recover, the cane had come apart. A hollow sheath was withdrawn from

Up came Rochelle's right hand. Harry and Vic were covered by the strangest weapon that they had ever seen.

The portion where the handle had been now made a handgrip with bulging chambers. The gun which

Rochelle held was a revolver of small caliber, but with a rifle barrel that gave it power.

Covered by this weapon, it was futile for either man to move. Trapped by Rochelle, they could only hope to

parry. The first words that the enemy uttered showed that no mercy could be gained.

"You shall die!" Rochelle's snarl ended in a wicked chuckle. "You, like others, shall end in my vats of death.

Look before you see where I have consigned the bodies of those whose murders I have ordered!

"Bolero Piscano" Rochelle was gleeful as he named the death list "Rexton Clifford Tromboll

Dolband! All have been dissolved within the acid which those vats contain. They were murdered by Bugs

Ritler and his mobsmen. They were carried here and dropped into the vats by Thurk.

"There was another. Herkimer. Thurk slew him and threw him into a vat as well. You wonder why I tell you

this?" Rochelle sneered. "Because both of you, like the others, will meet with the same fate.

"No evidence will remain of my crimes. Speculation will exist; truth will be lacking. I shall depart by my

secret exit; before I go, two more victims will be bestowed to their resting places. One for each vat of death!"

As Rochelle delivered a fiendish chuckle, Vic Marquette growled a quick command to Harry Vincent.

"Spread away," was Vic's order. "Open fire both at once. Maybe one of us will get him "

With simultaneous accord, Harry and Vic sprang sidewise, in opposite directions, along the edge of the nearer

vat. It was their only chance. One was doomed, according to Rochelle's choice; the other had a slender

Rochelle had divined the move. As the springing men swung their gun arms upward, the master plotter aimed

first for Vic Marquette. All odds were in his favor. A quick shot with another rapid aim both Vic and Harry

At that instant a shot resounded with a roar from a point directly in back of the spot where Harry Vincent and

Vic Marquette had been standing side by side. The spreading action had cleared the way for a hidden

The Shadow! He had trailed the pursuers of Darvin Rochelle. He had heard Vic Marquette's order to Harry

Vincent. A spectral figure, hidden from Rochelle's view by the men between, he had been ready with the

THE roar of the automatic, enlarged by these confining walls, awoke staccato echoes. Darvin Rochelle's right

arm was drooping. The sheathing cane slipped from his left hand and dropped into the vat before him. His

longbarreled gun formed a pointer as its muzzle turned toward the depths of the vat. Like an omen, the gun

Rochelle's form was slumping. The villain's left hand was to his breast. His eyes were staring downward,

bulging as they saw the fate that awaited him. His wavering body seemed to twist in a futile, convulsive effort

Then, as death followed the mortal wound, Rochelle's body took a rigid pose. It seemed to rise, almost as if

alive. With a peculiar twist that formed a replica of Rochelle's halting stride, the body slipped from the ledge.

A splash came from the vat. A pungent odor arose as wavelets moved upon the greenish surface. The man

with the limp was dead. His corpse, like those of his victims, was swallowed by the greedy acid in the vat of

From the archway to the outer chamber came the hollow tones of a weird laugh, that crept with ironical

mockery above the vats. Even though that laugh had been uttered by their rescuer, Vic Marquette and Harry

The laugh reached a high crescendo. It broke with a shuddering gibe. Echoes rang from every wall

When the last note of that sinister taunt had died, a strange, predominating silence hung above the vats of

Triumphant, The Shadow had departed. His work was done. He had dealt just doom to Darvin Rochelle, the

VIC MARQUETTE was in Fulton Fourrier's room at the Starlett Hotel. Wisely, the secretservice operative

"I got your call, Marquette," explained Fourrier, "just before midnight. How you managed to get it through

Vic maintained his silence. He realized that The Shadow must have called Fourrier just before coming to

"I went with the police," resumed Fourrier. "We got there and waited surrounding the block as you had

"We smeared those servants of Rochelle's. We got the gangsters piling out of the house in the back. But if it

hadn't been for you, Vic, and that fellow Vincent you had with you, Rochelle would have made his

"We nabbed the Debronne woman coming in," said the chief. "We're adding her confession to your report.

With Vincent and that newspaperman, Burke, to add their details to your story, it will be the greatest thing in

"The papers on Rochelle's desk. Not only his plot to kill nine South Americans, but that stolen

The chief paused to study a stack of report papers that Vic Marquette had given him. Vic had couched these

For Vic Marquette had sensed The Shadow's wish. Wisely, Marquette had omitted all mention of the

"No details of the fight," observed Fourrier. "Well, those aren't needed. The fact that you and the other

prisoners got loose and polished off the gang is sufficient. Results are what we want in our report sheets."

Fourrier placed the report aside. He arose and clapped his hand to Marquette's shoulder.

"Your work is done, old man," he said. "I'm putting an international operative on the final job. A report came

in on Alvarez Menzone today. The man was a clever swindler, last seen in 1931, at Caracas, Venezuela.

"He's probably headed out of the country. Maybe we'll get him maybe we won't. It doesn't matter. He'll

Vic Marquette smiled. He knew that Fourrier had unwittingly declared the truth. No one would ever get

BLACKNESS moved on the balcony outside of Fourrier's windows. The barriers closed tight. A weird shape,

Ten minutes later, Henry Arnaud, bags packed, appeared in the lobby of the Hotel Starlett. This

inconspicuous guest was leaving Washington. He paid his bill; his grips were carried to a cab.

As the taxi rolled along Pennsylvania Avenue on its way to the Union Station, a thin smile appeared upon the

lips of Henry Arnaud. Eyes that flashed, were surveying the glittering boulevard. A soft laugh echoed from

Washington seemed peaceful tonight. The lurking menace of insidious crime was ended. A monster of evil

The glow from the lighted capitol building revealed Arnaud's hawklike features as the cab swung toward the

From them, again came that whispered laugh an echo of the same weird tone that had reverberated in

The laugh of The Shadow! It was the token of the master who had played three parts in a grim, unrelenting

Deaths had been avenged. Lives had been saved. Justice ruled, with the threat of a continent in chaos safely