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

CHAPTER I .............................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II ............................................................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III..........................................................................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV........................................................................................................................................13

CHAPTER V.........................................................................................................................................16

CHAPTER VI........................................................................................................................................20

CHAPTER VII .......................................................................................................................................22

CHAPTER VIII.....................................................................................................................................25

CHAPTER IX........................................................................................................................................29

CHAPTER X.........................................................................................................................................31

CHAPTER XI........................................................................................................................................35

CHAPTER XII .......................................................................................................................................39

CHAPTER XIII.....................................................................................................................................43

CHAPTER XIV.....................................................................................................................................48

CHAPTER XV......................................................................................................................................52

CHAPTER XVI.....................................................................................................................................55

CHAPTER XVII ....................................................................................................................................59

CHAPTER XVIII ...................................................................................................................................62

CHAPTER XIX.....................................................................................................................................65

CHAPTER XX......................................................................................................................................68

WHEN you talked to Noble J. Elder, you didn't wonder what the initial "J" signified.

That at least was the opinion of Johnny Craver. He was sure of one thing; that Elder's middle name wasn't

For Johnny Craver had been a very confused young man until he met Noble J. Elder, the proprietor of

Sapphire Springs, founder of the Sapphire Sanitarium, and organizer of the Self Society that brought young

The name Noble J. Elder began like a title and ended with a descriptive flourish. Eminence and dignity were

in his bearing as he sat behind the great desk in his private consultation room; while his shocky gray hair and

They were kindly, patient eyes, mild even to their twinkle which seemed to have caught the color of the deep

blue pool that was visible from Elder's window, amid the surrounding ring of stalwart pines that guarded it.

Apparently Elder's desk had been placed where he could keep a constant eye upon the famous Sapphire

Springs which gushed like a living fountain from the exact center of his extensive premises; but if Johnny

judged rightly and he was one who might Noble Elder was more interested in the folk who patronized

For the curative properties of these surroundings could be attributed to Noble Elder quite as much as Sapphire

Springs. Indians, pioneers, and settlers all had owned the Springs in turn, but it had taken a wise gentleman

named Elder to prove that here lay the cure for mental as well as physical ills. Discovering the true Fountain

of Life and packing its contents into blue bottles at thirtyfive cents a quart had merely been Elder's first step

to fame. So many visitors had come to see this remarkable source of health that the Sapphire Sanitarium had

sprung up in Arabian Nights' style and now was restricted to the members of the Self Society who were

desirous of imbibing Elder's philosophy along with the variety of aqua pura on which he held complete

Johnny Craver had imbibed both in copious quantities and was now receiving his final treatment. Smiling as

he chatted, Noble Elder did not forget the bluetinted carafe which rested on his desk. From that

waterbottle, he replenished both Johnny's glass and his own, as a toast to his recuperated patient's coming

There was a touch of humor in Elder's tone; the encouraging touch that it always carried.

"No jitters. No butterflies, either" Johnny tapped his diaphragm "the kind that used to be flying around

"Moths, Johnny," corrected Elder. He raised his glass with a smile. "It took nature's camphor to disperse

"Camphor?" queried Johnny in surprise. "You mean there is camphor in Sapphire Water?"

"There might be," laughed Elder. "It contains about everything else that is healthful. Here is our latest

analysis, direct from the State Health Department. But wait" Elder's face became serious as he laid aside

the paper he was passing across the desk "here is an analysis of more importance. Your own, Johnny."

Passing the other sheet to Johnny, Elder finished his glass of Sapphire Water and folded his arms while he

awaited the young man's reaction. Reading the typewritten report, Johnny began to shake his head.

"I was pretty much of a mess when I landed here, wasn't I?" began Johnny. "I came in on the end of a

oneweek hangover inspired by a twoweek binge. What was I seeing, pink elephants?"

"You'd passed that stage, Johnny. You were talking about snakes, mostly with six heads."

"I certainly hated the stuff," he recalled, "but I couldn't do without it now. You're sure I can get it bottled in

"Yes. All the best pharmacists carry it. Only there are other bottled goods in New York, too, the kind that

For the first time, Elder's voice was sharp, but only to force home his point. Instantly, Johnny's fists tightened

and Elder's eyes observed the action of the fingers that gripped the glass. Leaning forward, resting his chin on

"I know," admitted Johnny. "But I'm not thinking of those fairweather friends who helped me drink up what

was left of the money that was owing me. I'm thinking of a gentleman named Claybourne."

"Jerome Claybourne," specified Johnny. "You must have heard of him, unless I clouded the issue by terming

"I must have been pretty incoherent," admitted Johnny, "because Claybourne was the cause of all the howls I

was making when I landed here. I must have been seeing his fat face on all those snakeheads."

"That's Claybourne. He's the gentleman excuse the term who swindled dad out of nearly everything.

Father would have been alive today, if he hadn't lost that last fifty thousand. If I could lay these fists on

They were tight fists, Johnny's, and as he raised them, they seemed to draw him to his feet. Into his enlarging

eyes came a wild look that directed its fury upon the man before him. In this resurgence of his recent

dementia, Johnny was in a fair way to mistake the mild and kindly features of Noble Elder for the fat, piggish

"Violence is not justice. Be honest with yourself before you render judgment upon others. Opportunity comes

Those statements flowed from the lips of Noble Elder like the blue water that gushed from Sapphire Springs.

A month ago, Johnny Craver would have called such phrases bromides, but now they carried the weight of a

"You're right, Mr. Elder," agreed Johnny. "If anybody needed violent treatment, I did when I arrived here.

"But when it comes to opportunity," asserted Johnny, "it's one thing I don't deserve."

"To you, Mr. Elder." Johnny leaned forward, earnestly. "I was all set to pitch myself into the street from a

"At least you have a few friends left," smiled Elder. "Why not thank them instead of me?"

"Because they shipped me here to be rid of me. They just didn't want their nice sidewalk splattered. You're

Elder had risen from the desk and was coming around it. He laid a firm hand upon Johnny's shoulder.

"You're the man who will keep yourself that way," declared Elder. "You were weak, but I have made you

"Did you say wealth?" Subsided into his more normal self, Johnny gave a hearty laugh. "That's a long way

"I have found the short way," replied Elder with a smile. "When you have found it, you will understand."

Timed almost to Elder's final statement, a polite rap sounded at the door. In response to Elder's call of "Come

in" a drabfaced man entered. He was one of the attendants at the Springs, an unofficious fellow, whose main

"Hello, Kirkwood," greeted Elder. Then, to Johnny: "You know Kirkwood, of course."

Johnny gave a matteroffact nod. Vaguely he recalled that the drab man's name was Kirkwood and that was

sufficient. Judged by his expressionless face, Kirkwood could hardly be cultivated, even as a mere

Kirkwood gave the information in a dull, but methodical tone, which Elder acknowledged with a bow. Then,

"I am sending Kirkwood to New York with you. He will return when you no longer need him. Goodbye,

As the door closed on Johnny and the trained seal who accompanied him, Noble Elder slowly shook his head.

Then, returning to his desk, he pressed a button and stood waiting, staring out past the pure blue spring, to

watch the station wagon that swung along the pinearched road, carrying Johnny Craver back to a turbulent

"Yes, Agatha." Elder turned to face a woman whose looks were plain to the extreme. "I want you to call New

Agatha picked up the telephone, which seemed all the more odd, since with her straight, primly parted hair,

she looked like someone straight from Puritan days. But she was efficient, this secretary of Elder's, even

"You want to talk to Mr. Cranston?" queried Agatha, in an even, efficient tone. "About Johnny Craver?"

"You know everything, Agatha," he complimented. "Yes, I'm worried about Johnny. He needs watching,

more perhaps than I can possibly give him, now that he has left here. I hope that I can depend upon Cranston

Thus did Noble Elder survey the prospects of Johnny Craver, a young man whose future would depend upon

the philosophy that he had absorbed at Sapphire Springs along with the curing waters.

In leaving the rest to Lamont Cranston, Elder was placing Johnny in good hands; perhaps better hands than

Margo Lane put the question in a piqued tone and meant it, though her motive was somewhat doubleedged.

She wanted Lamont Cranston to feel that she resented the time he had lately wasted on Johnny, whose chief

forte had always been the wasting of other people's time. But there was also a dash of curiosity in Margo's

"Poor Johnny," returned Cranston, sympathetically. "He always seems to have a tough time of it."

"And so does everybody else," reminded Margo, "when they begin to turn softhearted on his account. You

"That's just what I mean." Margo's dark eyes flashed significantly. "Such people shouldn't concern you."

"Not if you're thinking of your friend The Shadow," returned Margo, pointedly. "His job and so I might say

"But he is drinking, Margo, a wonderful beverage called Sapphire Water. It's done wonders for him."

"You mean that stuff from the place where Johnny took the rest cure? Why, you could fill one of those blue

bottles with Catskill punch right out of a Manhattan faucet and nobody would know the difference. Not even

There was something calm in Cranston's reflective tone; a note that Margo was quick to catch. Instantly her

manner became serious, for she recognized that the subject was deeper than she supposed. Cranston's

"You mean that Johnny is a mental case?" demanded Margo. "But I thought he'd improved!"

"So he has," affirmed Cranston. "His Sapphire sojourn cured him thoroughly. He's a different person, a strong

"You remember the old Johnny," interposed Cranston. "He was always denouncing others and taking it out

"Yes," nodded Margo. "He was always trying to drink up bars and pitch himself out of windows. His friends

"Well, suppose" Cranston's calm gaze became speculative, but Margo saw a glint of foresight in those eyes

"He ought to be watched," decided Margo, seriously. "Yes, he really ought to be."

"His friend Noble Elder thinks the same," said Cranston, with a smile. "That's why I've been watching him.

It's even more important, now that he's shipping his trained seal back to Sapphire Springs."

"Trained seal?" Incredulity filled Margo's tone. "You don't mean they have such things flipping around the

waters of the health resort? You mean Johnny brought one with him as a pet or as a sort of fetish?"

"This one is a human seal," explained Cranston. "It answers to the name of Kirkwood. He's an attendant from

"It has everything but whiskers. Just a blank face and a vocabulary limited to 'Yes, sir' and 'No, sir.' Of course

it knows how to buy Sapphire Water by the case and keep pouring it whenever Johnny looks dry."

"No." Glancing at his watch, Cranston gestured that it was time to be leaving the restaurant where they were

lunching. "Johnny is really broke. His good friend Elder is financing him back on his feet."

"Elder can't do otherwise and still expect New York dealers to handle Sapphire Water. But don't worry about

"Exactly. Elder's tonics, physical and mental, are good for wealth as well as health. As I said before, he's

Things were getting too rapid for Margo, right then. Leaving the restaurant during their conversation, she and

Lamont were now in Shrevvy's cab and it was riding posthaste somewhere. Shrevvy rated as the original

demon driver of Manhattan, which was why Cranston had bought his cab outright and kept Shrevvy as a

There were times when Cranston wanted to reach certain places a little faster than anybody but Shrevvy could

take him. Those were often times when Cranston happened to be his other self, The Shadow, so it was

Shrevvy's job to pilot a blackcloaked crimesmasher in a cab that usually looked empty when it contained

Of course Cranston never admitted his dual identity, so out of respect to his visible employer, Shrevvy felt it

proper occasionally to show full speed by daylight. But this occasion seemed to have some justification, as

Margo gathered when the cab went winging down a ramp. From the corner where she had telescoped, Margo

"We're meeting Johnny," replied Cranston. "He is seeing Kirkwood off, and he said he'd wait for me at the

train gate. I gave Shrevvy the speed sign on the chance you might want to see Kirkwood before he left."

The cab was shrieking to a halt at the bottom of the ramp, and Margo found herself precipitated amid a mass

of redcaps. Since neither Margo nor Cranston had baggage, the porters parted, and Margo found Cranston

whisking her among a lot of train gates where an amplified voice was delivering an "All Aboard!"

"Too late," decided Cranston. "There goes Kirkwood's train. Well, we'll look for Johnny."

"The Pennsylvania Station," replied Cranston. "You didn't have time to guess the direction, the way Shrevvy

"I'm recognizing the people," returned Margo. "Look, Lamont, there's a sunbonnet job that couldn't have

"Very interesting," remarked Cranston, turning in the opposite direction, "but I'm more interested in finding

"Sunbonnet Sue is looking for somebody, too," said Margo. "Well, if anybody is looking for her, they'll find

"There's Johnny, coming from the train gate," interposed Cranston. "This way, Margo. We'll meet him."

"A face like a dressshop dummy," mused Margo, across her shoulder. "You know, Lamont, you could make

Twisting her elbow from Cranston's helpful hand, Margo stood stockstill and stared most impolitely. Then:

"It just couldn't happen, Lamont," Margo declared. "But look for yourself and see the man who's meeting

Miss Prim Puss. Over there by the other train gate, see him? He must be her twin brother; his face is just as

Plucking for Lamont's arm, Margo found it wasn't there. Turning, Margo saw him coming toward her with

"That man over there," returned Margo. "I don't mean he bit me. I just mean" Margo stared, more puzzled

"You mentioned an oddlooking woman," recalled Cranston. "But what was odd about the man?"

"The same thing," explained Margo. "He was the original dead pan, as frozen as the Great Stone Face."

"Sounds like Kirkwood," laughed Johnny. "Too bad he just left. We could have compared him with your

"Spare the thought. Still" Johnny's forehead furrowed "Agatha was just about his speed. She's Elder's

secretary. Good folk, both, but about as individual from the human standpoint as those big pinetrees that look

like a set of matched golf clubs. How did I stand it at Sapphire Springs, anyway?"

Cranston's keen eyes saw their chance to press home a more current subject. Calmly, he asked:

"All right," acknowledged Johnny. Then, his own tone calm, he added: "I'm going to the Claybourne

For once, Margo could have sworn that Cranston looked amazed, though the impression might have been the

reflection of her own astonishment. At least Cranston was silent long enough for Johnny to continue:

"I know. Claybourne is supposed to be my worst enemy. But I reduced him to a pet peeve and now he doesn't

rate at all. Give credit to Noble Elder. He knocks such foolish notions out of you."

"I'm glad to hear it, Johnny," returned Cranston. "Yes, we'll see you at Claybourne's. How about coming

"Both out," smiled Johnny, with a shake of his head. "I need a nap it's the last thing Kirkwood reminded me

about and I've reduced to two meals a day, both already eaten. But if you're going past my hotel, you might

Shrevvy's cab was waiting, as usual, having wormed itself into a culdesac from which the cab starter

couldn't budge it until Shrevvy sighted the proper passengers. It wasn't until they neared Johnny's hotel that

"Do you know," said Johnny, "the best thing about the help that Elder gives you is that it makes you want to

The cab stopped as Johnny was drawing a folded slip of paper from his vest pocket. Tucking the paper away,

"I'll tell you all about it tonight," he promised. "It can't prove more boring than the usual conversation at

With that, Johnny was gone, and the cab was pulling away. Turning to Cranston, Margo said:

"If you mean Johnny Craver," returned Cranston, steadily, "I would say he is doing too wonderfully. He will

The sudden thought struck Margo that Lamont Cranston might be very right, too. He usually was.

IN his sixteenth story hotel room, Johnny Craver uncapped a blue bottle and poured himself a copious

draught of Sapphire Water. Raising his glass, he looked off beyond the narrow stretch of horizon that he

"Good old Elder," affirmed Johnny, aloud. "Maybe you're drinking with me at this moment." Johnny tilted

his head. "Anyway, I guess I'm looking in the general direction of Sapphire Springs. Maybe not, though."

Solemnly finishing his drink of water, Johnny gave a sudden laugh and reached for the bottle.

"I'm looking Kirkwood's direction, though," chuckled Johnny. "Due West, the way the tunnel goes under the

river. So here's to you, Kirkwood. I hope the three quarts in your suitcase will hold out until you reach the

With that, Johnny's face went solemn again, as though it wasn't right to jest about such matters. Johnny sat

"Don't mind me if I talk aloud," spoke Johnny. "I'm only pretending that you're still here, Kirkwood. That's

why Elder sent you along, to encourage me to speak my thoughts. It must have been, because you never

"If I hadn't talked, you would have stayed. That was your job, Kirkwood, and I admire you for it. You found

out I was all right, so you went your way. But it was boring to have you around, so here's to you, Kirkwood."

Finishing the glass, Johnny thumped it on the table; then stared at the blank wall.

"You were a crutch, Kirkwood, that's all you were!" Johnny's tone became defiant. "A human crutch that

Elder sent along because he thought I needed it! I'm talking to you, Kirkwood, and I might as well be looking

"I'll prove it!" Coming to his feet, Johnny drew a pencil from his pocket and drew a circle on the wall. He

added two lines for a pair of closed eyes, a circle for a nose, and a straight slit for a mouth. "That's you,

Standing back, Johnny surveyed his character sketch; then proved that he had something of the artist in him.

Stepping to the wall, Johnny began to add expression to the thing that he had drawn.

"All you need is a little touching up," declared Johnny. "That's all, Kirkwood, old boy. Some eyebrows like

mine, a sharper nose, a grin like the one I used to give you only you wouldn't take it.

"Funny about you, Kirkwood" leaning back; Johnny studied his improvements, which indeed has

something of his own features "do you know, the way you always kept watching me gave me hope that

some day you'd turn human. I'm human enough, and I was trying to help you, but maybe I'm too human.

"You weren't watching me to acquire some of my charm if any." Johnny gave a disparaging chuckle. "You

were watching to see that I didn't eat too much, that I drank enough Sapphire Water, that I took my nap. You

were watching when I talked and laughed to learn if I was the old Johnny or the new."

Flinging the pencil across the room, Johnny gave a disgruntled snarl and flung himself in an easy chair.

"That's the way the old Johnny acted," he sneered. "I can be my old self, now that you aren't here, Kirkwood,

but I won't keep on with it." Drawing himself erect in his chair, he added with steady dignity: "I'm the new

It was then that Johnny's hand dipped to his vest pocket as it had in the cab. Bringing out the folded sheet of

"Too bad," he declared. "Well, maybe I can be a good example instead of a horrible one."

Reaching for the telephone, Johnny called a number that he read from the paper. When a voice answered,

Johnny politely inquired for Miss Linda Brock; then tilted his head in characteristic fashion as he sensed a

"A friend," replied Johnny. His tone carried a full note of conviction. "A friend she has been waiting to hear

Whispers were vague across the wire, indicating a secret consultation at the other end. Then a girl's voice

Johnny paid no heed to the lack of query in the tone. With the same sincerity, he said:

"That's right. It did me good, Linda. If you're in the same whirl that I was, you'd better take a trip there. It will

Though there was no lift to the monotone, the words were encouraging, so Johnny rallied to his theme.

"Why can't you come with me to Claybourne's reception?" queried Johnny. "You're invited, aren't you?"

"I'll meet you at the reception, then. What kind of a dress will you be wearing?"

"A blue evening gown. With aquamarine earrings and bracelet. If I go to the reception at all."

"But I must see you, Linda," insisted Johnny. "I want to help you, the way I was helped."

"Receptions bore me." For the first time, Linda's tired voice seemed to carry appropriate expression.

"I'll be waiting in my car in back of Claybourne's. It has a Connecticut license plate."

"Yes." The tone was lower, more emphatic. "If you have written my name and address, tear them up. Dispose

The receiver clicked sharply at the other end and Johnny found himself staring at the drawing on the wall.

"It was like a question, Kirkwood," said Johnny. "Her voice had a lift to it, like I hoped it would. So she

Johnny tore the paper on the way to the window. Raising the sash, he let the fragments flutter out into the

afternoon air. Sniffing the atmosphere as though he expected the pinetinged ozone of the woods surrounding

Sapphire Springs, Johnny gave a disappointed shrug and turned back from the window.

"I'm getting tired, Kirkwood," Johnny mumbled. "Like I always do, every afternoon. Maybe it's gotten to be a

Halfsprawling on the bed, Johnny reached for a pillow, then came back to his feet.

"Mustn't forget the Sapphire Water," he said. "Finish a bottle before taking a nap. You drilled that rule into

Finishing the glass he poured, Johnny relaxed upon the bed and let his head dip deep into the pillow. He was

muttering that naps made him tired and meaning it the opposite way about. But today, with Kirkwood no

longer present to dispute the point with silence, Johnny was finding it literally true.

At least the breeze from the open window resembled the zephyrs that played about Elder's pine trees, for the

noise of city traffic dwindled itself until Johnny mistook it for the gurgle of Sapphire Springs. Within five

minutes, he was deep into a sleep as sound as those that he had enjoyed at the sanitarium.

The depth of that slumber was evidenced when the telephone bell began to ring. The bell was close beside

Johnny's head, but he didn't hear it. After continuing for a full minute, the bell suddenly ceased, leaving

A deep sleep was something that Noble Elder had always prescribed to his patients. According to Elder, a

mind that slumbered well would be sharper when it was awake. All that had made sense to Johnny Craver,

Johnny was going to need sharp wits tonight. He had paved the way for it, with that mystery call to a girl that

he had never met. And now, while Johnny slept, matters were shaping themselves into a situation where even

IT was dark across the street from Johnny's hotel and the fact pleased Sheff Gilbin. What didn't please Sheff

was the necessity of being here at all. Particularly, he didn't like having Hippo Borgand along, since Hippo's

build wasn't suited to concealment, even after the forty pounds reduction that he had manoeuvered at Miami

"It's all set, I tell you," assured Sheff. "The Brock girl has fallen for it completely. It can't fail."

"Sheffield to you, Mr. Borgand, and don't forget it when we arrive at that reception."

"All right, Sheffield," gruffed Hippo. "Only you can't trust dames, particularly when the dizzy kind."

"What language, Artemus!" Sheff's tone was shocked. "What sort of acquaintances did you cultivate during

"I cultivated the right sort," retorted Hippo, "but there were a lot of others tried to cultivate me. Now listen,

Sheff Sheffield to you I've seen this Brock number and she's a blonde. To me, all blondes are dizzy "

"And that's the game," put in Sheff. "We're playing on the fact that she's a hypochondriac. That's a better term

With that admonition, Sheff pressed his companion further back into the doorway, as far as the physical

contours of Artemus Borgand, more familiarly Hippo, would allow. Before he could protest, Hippo saw the

A large, wellpolished car had stopped near the hotel and a girl's face was peering from it. Along with the

face, a gloved hand was beckoning to a corner lounger, who came over to the car and stopped there. The light

was good enough for Hippo to identify the girl as Linda Brock, while Sheff was tallying on the happenings

"She's giving him a note, all right," undertoned Sheff, "and it looks as though she is handing over some

"And the car is staying so she can point him out to the bum," added Hippo. "That's funny, though. I thought

"That's what Shebley said," recalled Sheff. "He's never seen Craver either. We'd better stay, to make sure this

doesn't slip. Meanwhile keep that muffler around your dress collar. Evening clothes don't show well when

Whatever Sheff's qualms, they were due for a sudden ending that came in clockwork style. As a young man

in evening clothes sauntered from the rather shabby hotel, a woman's hand waved from the limousine, the

corner bum took his cue, shambled up and thrust the message into the young man's hand.

Instantly, the limousine was away, so smoothly that it had purred past Johnny Craver before he knew it was

around. He turned just in time to see a girl's face looking back at him from the rear window; then the big car

turned the corner. Nor did Sheff and Hippo fail to perform like human cogwheels. The moment they saw the

note delivered, they were out from their doorway and walking rapidly along their own side of the street, away

"That's that," summed Sheff. "Now remember, Hippo, we're not working the big con tonight. You're fronting

"Yes, and not a rubber one. Only whatever you do offer, phrase it as a man of your repute should."

"Banish your apprehensions, Sheffield," Hippo's accent became a Bostonese that fitted the character of

Artemus Borgand. "Gentlemen of breeding cast a contagious influence upon me, whenever I am in their

presence. In falsifying my genealogy, I chose a lineage of true sportsmen. I have literally imbibed their

heredity to an extent where I allow myself to be bested at nothing; not even in so trivial a competition as an

The two men were around the next corner by the time Hippo had finished his harangue. By then, Johnny

Craver couldn't have spotted them, even if he had looked, which he didn't. Still standing outside the hotel,

It wasn't a Connecticut license number. In fact it didn't belong on any automobile plate that Johnny had ever

seen. Such numbers didn't run: R3, L5, R3, L7, R1, L6. Only one type of numbers followed that

Folding the paper, Johnny tucked it in a pocket of his white vest and strolled around the nearest corner,

hoping to find a cab on the avenue. One was parked half a block away, so Johnny stepped into it and gave the

No longer was Johnny talking to Kirkwood, nor even to himself. His afternoon nap reminded him of a Rip

Van Winkle sleep. He'd awakened as a new man, but in a sense a composite of two former selves. He had

become precisely what Lamont Cranston had stated that he might: the original Johnny Craver, rendered

Situated on a secluded avenue, the Claybourne mansion was a pretentious relic of early century Manhattan.

Set back from the street, the brownstone residence had all the appearance of a museum, which it could

rightfully be termed, for its present incumbent, Jerome Claybourne, was the third in a line of greedy tycoons

In the huge reception hall that constituted but a fraction of the mansion's interior acreage, Jerome Claybourne

was receiving guests in his accustomed style. Among the early arrivals, Lamont Cranston and Margo Lane

had gone through the usual formality of meeting Claybourne and the members of his family who fronted the

statuary that adorned the marble staircase. Now, Cranston had sauntered off among the other guests to learn if

Johnny Craver had really fulfilled his boast of coming to these unwelcome preserves, and Margo was

considering herself to be something quite unnecessary, when she suddenly found herself the victim of

Said opportunity happened to be none other than Johnny Craver, who sauntered into the reception hall in a

"Hello, Margo." Johnny's greeting came in a warm, confident tone. "I hoped to find you here, though I guess

Margo nodded. She could have said that there was nothing dull about Johnny. His face had a warm flush; his

eyes were keen and carried a calculating stare. He was different from the old Johnny with the wild, distorted

stare; different, too, from the rather mild and uncertain young man that Margo had met this afternoon.

Johnny's gesture toward the marble staircase signified what he meant by the word.

"Yes, I've met the Claybournes," Margo acknowledged. "I suppose they'll be surprised to see you here."

"If Claybourne is, he won't show it," assured Johnny. "Not unless we poked an apple in his mouth. I've never

seen a pig express astonishment in any other way. My simile fits Claybourne rather well, don't you think?"

"In a way, yes," compromised Margo. "He does look as though he's lived on the fat of the land."

"Most of it went to his head, then," retorted Johnny. His halfsmile made it difficult to guess how serious he

might be. "Well, I suppose I should pay the family my disrespects. Meanwhile, do me a favor, will you?"

"Look for a girl in a blue evening gown." For the first time, Margo noted a vague expression in both Johnny's

Margo's puzzled stare must have registered with Johnny for he steadied instantly and laughed off his remark

"Just a whim of mine," said Johnny. "Sapphire Springs made me fond of blue. Thought I ought to meet a girl

Johnny wandered into the reception line and soon was meeting Claybourne and his equally portly wife, who

was heavily encrusted with jewels. There were two younger members of the family, a Jerome Claybourne

Fourth and a daughter of fifteen who seemed to be outracing her slightly older brother in the avoirdupois

derby that characterized the Claybournes. As she watched the meeting Margo was more than slightly

Jerome Claybourne gave a slight start at seeing Johnny, but the young man must have smoothed it in a really

affable style, for next Claybourne was not only shaking hands but clapping Johnny on the back, while Mrs.

Claybourne was spreading smiles amid her jewels. Then, instead of motioning Johnny along the line,

Claybourne was turning him over to the junior set, as though he were one of the family.

This was something that Cranston really should know about, but before Margo could turn to look for him, she

"I see it, Margo. It may mean more than we suppose. Keep a close eye on Johnny; he's yours from now on."

"He does, but I can't spare the time for it, at least not now. When I took a look at the reception line, up

popped the devil and his twin brother, though I wouldn't care to say which is which. I might be unfair to the

Following Lamont's eyes, Margo saw the two men he meant. One was tall, a trifle gaunt, with a trace of

suavity; the other was portly, but large enough of frame to minimize his overweight. To Margo, both men

looked too distinguished to fit the classification that Cranston had applied to them.

The pair happened to be Sheff and Hippo, operating under more pretentious titles which did not deceive

Cranston in the least. He knew them for a brace of crooks de luxe; they were tagged as such in The Shadow's

own private files, although each individual's past was totally untainted by anything resembling a police

What even The Shadow had not learned was how the purposes of this conniving pair might cross the path of

MARGO decided that catching up with Johnny Craver was like overtaking an eel. Having decided to become

the life of Claybourne's party, Johnny was almost anywhere and everywhere. But he was always squirming

At last, Margo hooked him briefly, or, rather, Johnny hooked himself to a glass of champagne that came by

on a waiter's tray. Suddenly observing Margo across the bubbling foam, Johnny gave a guilty wince and

"It's yours, Margo," he said. "I'm still working on Sapphire Water or at least I should be."

"I'd say you were working on the Claybournes," bantered Margo. "What sort of compliments did you pay

"Nice ones. The old lady liked it when I told her she looked better in more jewels. I didn't add that she'd put

"I said I was pleased to see how much they'd grown; which they have, sideways instead of straight up.

"He wants to talk to me." Johnny's gaze turned toward a heavy oak door which was the entrance to

"Yes, because I know he won't come through." A grit of Johnny's teeth amplified the glint in his eye. "Forget

and forgive; that's Claybourne's motto. He forgets the wrongs he did you and forgives you for those you

Johnny staged the clam act, instantly. He watched Margo coldly until her look of curiosity faded; then, as if

"No blue jobs under forty," replied Margo, with a headshake. "Would any of them do?"

"Not according to specifications," said Johnny. "Perhaps I'm too ambitious, or maybe I just played a hunch

As Johnny turned to the smoking room, Margo's vigil ended for the time. Cranston had disappeared into that

same room, half an hour before, along with the pair of smoothies he was watching, so the Johnny proposition

In Claybourne's ornate smoking room, Cranston had just completed one of the most interesting halfhours

that he had ever spent. He had watched two firstrate swindlers operate in reverse, with a speed that was

Either Sheffield Gilbin and Artemus Borgand had reformed through too much contact with society, or

Cranston had done them an injustice in branding them con men. They had talked themselves into buying

exactly fifty thousand dollars worth of very doubtful stock which Claybourne was anxious to unload in what

Wealth was something that Claybourne exuded, therefore he could speak disparagingly of it, having an

overabundance. But when Claybourne belittled a stock, he was actually giving a salestalk. Any stock that

wasn't due for an immediate jump seemed a disappointment to Claybourne, whose thirst for wealth was

Gilbin and Borgand were willing to wait; in fact quite eager if they had a sure thing in hand. In asking

Claybourne if Southern Sugar was a good buy, they kept answering each other's questions, always in the

affirmative, until they closed the deal themselves, with Borgand signing a check to complete it.

To Cranston, it was very obvious that Claybourne wouldn't be keeping anything but worthless stock in an

unlocked drawer in his smoking room. The way he handled those gaudily printed shares made them look like

coupons that had come with the boxes of fifty cent cigars that were in the same drawer.

That supporter was Johnny Craver. Arriving just in time to witness the conclusion of the deal, Johnny let his

lips deliver an understanding curl. Momentarily taut, he was turning to speak to Gilbin and Borgand, when he

suddenly compromised in favor of a bottle of prewar Scotch on Claybourne's sideboard.

Not having seen Claybourne bring those sugar shares from the desk drawer, Johnny was forming conclusions

from previous knowledge of Claybourne's ways. A stranger would have assumed that there was a wall safe

The logical answer shot straight to Cranston's keen mind. Johnny knew that Claybourne didn't keep valuables

Hearing the gurgle from the Scotch bottle, Claybourne was reminded of another sort of thirst. Turning, he

saw Johnny, and immediately outdid himself, a giveaway that he was anxious to divert talk from the deal he

had just closed. Pouring himself a drink, Claybourne clinked glasses with Johnny as he laid a warm arm on

"Johnny, my boy!" Claybourne's tone was rich with insincerity. "You're with us again and we're glad!" He

turned to the others and added with the same warm fakery: "Fill your glasses, gentlemen, and drink with us.

It took the double Scotch, his first in months, to stifle the things that Johnny could have said. That one drink

lifted him into a silent fury which dispelled itself as suddenly. Narrowing his eyes to hide their glare, Johnny

"Like my own son, Johnny is," announced Claybourne, "because his father was like my own brother. Good

old Craver; he had just one weakness: investments. We pulled them through, though, didn't we, Johnny?"

"Not as much left as I hoped." Claybourne shook his head. "Johnny didn't understand at first and it hurt me to

explain. But that's all forgotten now, Johnny. I've made allowance because you were young and headstrong."

"Forget and forgive," said Johnny. "That's Mr. Claybourne's way. It's nice of him."

The statement was for the benefit of Gilbin and Borgand, as if Sheff and Hippo didn't know. Johnny meant

that Claybourne would forget he'd talked them into buying worthless stock and would put it the other way

about. Also he'd forgive them for claiming they were swindled if they'd be suckers enough to come back for

Cranston understood and more. When Johnny put down his glass and turned away, saying that the rest of the

Claybourne family was expecting him, it meant that he'd made up his mind to something drastic. The dip of

Johnny's fingers to his vest pocket was an added clue that Cranston didn't need.

It was just the clue that Sheff and Hippo wanted, as they preserved their poker faces. Turning away from

Cranston, they said goodnight to Claybourne, who promptly insisted upon seeing them to the door. Blocked

by the sudden exodus, Cranston wasn't able to follow closely on Johnny's heels, even if he'd wanted.

Luck, not dependability was sometimes Margo's forte. She'd almost forgotten Johnny when she came down

It was Johnny's voice that captured her attention. He was at the telephone, around on the opposite side of the

"Hello... "Johnny's tone became subdued, but Margo was drawing close enough to hear it. "Yes, this is

Johnny... You're meeting me, of course?... Yes, right away, where we agreed... The blue gown? Of course... If

I can't admire it in the dark, we'll go where there's some light... Now hurry... Please "

Johnny's voice was just beginning to phrase a name when Margo arrived too close. That name, the one that

Johnny claimed he had forgotten, remained unuttered. Instead, the telephone clattered on its stand and Margo

found herself staring into Johnny's face, cold and gray in the slight gloom beneath the stairway.

"Sorry, Johnny," began Margo. "I didn't mean to snoop. I was only going to tell you "

It was Johnny's tone of the afternoon, dry and lacking vigor though the words themselves betokened

"That I hadn't found her," explained Margo. "The vision in blue, if you hadn't forgotten her."

Those eyes of Johnny's were staring straight past Margo; indeed, they could have been staring through her.

Then, with a quick turn on his heel, Johnny swung through a door at the rear of the hall, giving Margo a

glimpse of a passage leading to the kitchens. As the door came clattering back, Margo turned and looked

Margo saw Lamont coming in from the front door, carrying something folded over his arm. He sensed the

"Yes." Margo gave a sweeping gesture. "He was at the telephone; now he's gone through to the kitchen."

"He should have gone out," decided Cranston, "like the others did." Glancing toward the staircase, Cranston

saw some guests coming down. "Come along, Margo. It appears to be our privilege to tour the second floor."

Margo didn't state that she'd already exercised that privilege. Close beside Cranston, she ascended the grand

stairs and gave a gesture toward the left, where a broad doorway showed a lighted picture gallery.

"Most everyone has finished looking at the paintings," said Margo. "Let's go in there, Lamont. We'll have a

Apparently Lamont didn't want to hear about Johnny. He was gone, when Margo looked around. It was rather

amazing, that vanish of Cranston's, for it must have covered about thirty feet of the welllighted upstairs hall.

Yet it wasn't quite complete. If Margo hadn't spent about two seconds in staring in the wrong direction, she

might have seen the cloak that was sliding over Cranston's shoulders or caught the flip of the slouch hat that

You had to look quickly to spot that transformation, even in the light. Once done, as it now was, all that

remained was moving blackness. When blended with anything resembling darkness, all traces were gone.

Johnny Craver was working the combination from memory, from the slip of paper that he'd studied at

intervals during the evening. Tense but steady, Johnny was listening while he worked, listening for any

Johnny was in Claybourne's trophy room, an extensive apartment near the rear of the third floor. Maybe

Claybourne who could conveniently forget so many things, had forgotten that it was in this very room that he

had once discussed Johnny's pitiful inheritance and had produced the few exhibits that went with it.

Clever of Claybourne to have his wall safe in this room, the last place where anyone would look for it. All

around the walls were trophies of the hunt, not Claybourne's expeditions but those of less grasping relatives

There were deer heads, moose antlers, stuffed catamounts and owls, even big fish mounted on plaques.

Interspersed among these dead creatures were the things that had slain them, old rifles, shotguns, quaint

All the place needed was the smell of powder and formaldehyde, being a cross between a gun shop and an

animal cemetery. Lacking such odors the room compromised by taking on a ghostly atmosphere from the

light that spread through the high transom to show the wall decorations looming like ghostly shapes..

Glass eyes of deer and moose, the lifelike stares of unblinking owls would have been enough to frighten an

ordinary burglar precipitated into this chamber of horrors. But Johnny was no ordinary burglar. He had

known where to look. Old Claybourne had let his hair down what hair he had that night when he had so

sorrowfully brought Johnny here. He'd let his young visitor see the safe behind the elk horns.

Right now those elk horns were inverted. Johnny had swung them around and up, the way he remembered

Claybourne doing it. Set in the opening revealed by the swivelled mounting was the shiny door of the wall

safe, catching the full glow from the hall light past the transom. If the combination proved correct, Johnny

would be having another look at Claybourne's treasure hoard, this time with the added pleasure of examining

The safe door opened as noiselessly as its tumblers had fallen. It revealed a strong box stuffed fatter than the

fish and owls. Claybourne was a master of financial taxidermy, judging by the tightpacked contents, for

Johnny recognized the stuff as giltedged bonds and negotiable securities. Nor was Johnny modest in the

It had been wellpacked before, this wall safe. The sight had thrilled Johnny the first time he saw it. He

hadn't forgotten, though, how Claybourne had gone meticulously through the entire stack, searching twice

before he discovered the few pitiful remainders that represented all of Johnny's father's fortune.

It was Johnny's turn tonight. He wasn't looking for remainders; he was taking the bulk, and would send back

what he didn't want, should he decide that Claybourne deserved such consideration. Johnny's chuckle came

This was the old Johnny Craver, but with a strength he'd never known before, both mental and physical. The

health he'd gained at Sapphire Springs was fortified by the advice he had received there; but both

Justice without violence; Johnny felt he was dealing it. Honest with himself, he was rendering judgment upon

Claybourne. He was finding opportunity because he deserved it; making opportunity in fact. By a

Faintly, a muffled rumble reached Johnny's ears. Instead of alarming him, it rendered him alert. As though he

had rehearsed it, Johnny was packing Claybourne's securities into tidy bundles, slipping them into imitation

leather folders that he had found stacked with them. Into one pocket, then another, he placed these trophies of

The rumble was from the mansion elevator, an expensive but oldfashioned contrivance at the right of the

grand staircase. Having used it personally to get here, Johnny had timed the trip and knew exactly how long

to allow. Even if Claybourne came directly to the trophy room, there would be time for Johnny to avoid him;

Before he could turn to close the door of the wall safe, Johnny heard the elevator stop. He'd overlooked one

factor; that he couldn't detect the elevator's rumble until it neared the third floor. Now a door on this very

floor was clanging open and Johnny's schedule of departure was clipped to the bone. Panicky for the first

time, Johnny sprang across the trophy room and started to yank the door open only to remember that he'd

Footsteps were outside the door by the time Johnny had unbolted it. Sliding close against the wall, Johnny

was under the shelter of a moose head when the door opened to admit Claybourne. Johnny had swung away

from that side of the door where the light switch was, so Claybourne didn't see him while turning on the

What Claybourne did see was the empty wall safe beneath the swivelled elk horns. But for that, Johnny could

have reached the hallway with the sneaky strides that he was taking. Down that same hall were the back stairs

With a cross between a snarl and a gasp of horror, Claybourne swung about, straight toward the doorway.

Knowing he'd be recognized, Johnny made a frantic effort to avoid it by springing past the doorway and

slapping off the light switch. Whether Claybourne spied his face in that moment, Johnny didn't know, for the

man's voice was incoherent with rage and dismay. What Johnny did was swing about, driving both fists hard

With a wallow like a walrus, Claybourne was reaching the wall, grabbing for something that he had no

trouble finding in the darkness. The thing was a shotgun, its location quite as plain in Claybourne's mind as

the position of the wall safe. That fact should have warned Johnny, but it didn't. He simply thought that

Claybourne was making an oblique charge as he bellowed the timeworn formula and Johnny was stopping

because he thought that Claybourne couldn't shoot, not with that doublebarreled wall trophy. Arm half

across his face, Johnny made a sharp cut for the doorway as Claybourne thrust the muzzles straight for him.

Converging like the walls of a funnel, the two men were practically pouring themselves into the doorway

A trifle ahead, Johnny thought that he was clear; only the hallway light was bothering him, when suddenly it

was gone. Who had turned it off and why, Johnny didn't know or care, but he was due to do both, an instant

The hallway light wasn't out. The blackness from the doorway was alive. It came with a cyclonic surge that

spun Johnny from its path, twisting him against the wall, still under the muzzles of Claybourne's gun. Fat

fingers were tugging at the shotgun triggers at that very instant, but the mass of human blackness wasn't

The gloved hand of The Shadow shot upward out of nowhere, driving the gun barrel to a high slant above

Johnny's head. That must have happened a split second before Claybourne pulled the triggers, though it all

seemed to occur at once. Instead of merely clicking, the hammers produced a roar that shook the room with

Reeling despite himself, Johnny saw Claybourne go tumbling backward, kicked into a somersault by the

double load. Human blackness was gone, somewhere deeper in the room, for The Shadow had wheeled from

the glare of the lighted doorway. Then, as the one victim of the tragedy, a bulky form crashed to the floor,

landing with uptilted head, its great eyes glittering in the glow from the doorway.

Jerome Claybourne had at last added himself to the list of his family's sportsmen. He had bagged the big

THIS wasn't laughing time for Johnny Craver. His pockets bulging with wealth that wasn't his, he more than

ever needed a quick way out. The comic result of Claybourne's marksmanship had not been his fault; nor

could Johnny take credit for it. Claybourne's foresight in keeping a loaded gun handy proved Johnny's own

lack of proper calculation toward the future. Nor were those missed shots fully wasted.

A doublebarreled roar meant something in a house full of servants. Yet Johnny didn't seem to realize it as he

stood stupidly by the doorway, wondering what had happened to the mysterious rescuer who revealed himself

only as a cloaked whirlwind. Shouts were coming from downstairs, but Johnny didn't even hear them, the

Sweeping suddenly from darkness, The Shadow caught Johnny's arm and whirled him full about. He wanted

to thrust the young fool through the doorway, rush him away from here and arrange explanations later, but

Johnny was slow in catching the idea. So slow that in a trice The Shadow's plan had changed; he was hurling

Johnny headlong out into the hallway, while he personally was taking a long low dive into the darkness of the

Claybourne was launching a new attack, this time with a harpoon that he had found to hand when coming up

beside the wall where he had landed. The sincerity of his hurl gave it a surprising accuracy for the barbed

spear arrowed a path right through the center of the doorway, which was fortunately vacated just before the

On hands and knees, Johnny heard the harpoon punch the hallway wall only a few feet above his head, while

from the trophy room came a clattery sound announcing The Shadow's dive had tangled him among the

moose horns on the floor. The shouts that Johnny heard from the front stairs were another factor in his rising

Racing for the back stairs, Johnny reached them just as Claybourne came lunging out into the hallway,

waving his hands and screaming for bigger and better harpoons. Seeing the servants, Claybourne sent them

running after Johnny and joined the chase in person. The back stairs were alive with hubbub when The

Shadow came from the trophy room. Hearing more footsteps pounding up from the front, The Shadow made

Always calculating, The Shadow was charting Johnny's course to the dot. Chances for a reasonable exit were

nil, since Johnny's clatter and that of his pursuers would rouse the servants in the kitchens. Since Johnny

knew of the connecting door alongside the grand stairway, he would naturally choose it in a pinch. By then

The Shadow would be in a position to help or hinder him whichever was preferred.

Sometimes The Shadow's calculations could go wrong. Either that, or something very strange was guiding

As Johnny thrust open a door at the bottom of the back stairs, he found a squad of skillet men awaiting him.

Chefs and waiters had armed themselves to greet the arriving clatter, confident that whoever came first would

be the man to stop. Approached by a halfcircle of waving fryingpans, Johnny gave a good impersonation

of a hunted rabbit. He saw two doors: one, unguarded, led through to the reception hall; the other, cut off by

Instead of taking the route that the kitchen help had overlooked, Johnny drove madly through the circle.

Waving his arms as he ran the gantlet of fryingpans, he warded off the worst blows, but took a few that

staggered him. The kitchen police were close behind him, howling as loud as the wolf pack that was

clattering from the stairs, when a pair of men came lunging in the back way, blocking off Johnny's last hope

"Good work, Gilbin! And you too, Borgand! Hold that thief and we'll take care of him!"

The trouble was, they didn't hold him. Sheff threw a headlock on Johnny that should have clamped him cold,

while Hippo blocked the doorway in big man style. But the pair suddenly became confused as the skillet crew

arrived. They seemed to fear that blows which were meant for Johnny were intended for them instead. Hippo

shoved in through the doorway to ward the clouts from the general direction of Sheff; who in turn forgot all

Suddenly free, Johnny was out through the doorway which in turn was bottlenecked by Sheff and Hippo,

particularly the latter, as they still couldn't get it through their heads that they were not the targets of the

fryingpans. Arriving in the melee, Claybourne was grabbing the members of the kitchen crew, blaming

them for something they were arguing was not their fault. All this took time, and plenty.

When Claybourne finally forced his way through and reached the rear street, there wasn't a sign of Johnny

Craver. The scene was deserted, except for a pair of taillights that twinkled around the corner, just in time to

escape Claybourne's notice; taillights with a Connecticut license plate between.

In the front reception hall, Lamont Cranston was strolling around from the elevator, which opened near the

door of Claybourne's smoking room. No longer The Shadow, he had stowed his cloak and hat conveniently

beneath the stairs and was now nodding to Margo Lane as she came down the grand staircase.

Practically all the other guests had gone and Margo could freely show her relief at seeing Cranston. Left

behind by the rush that had surged to the third floor following the shotgun fire, Margo had heard the

subsequent clatter down the back stairs and had hoped that it meant that Cranston was still in circulation.

"It's about Johnny," replied Cranston, calmly. "He just tapped Claybourne's safe, up on the third floor."

Margo tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen door on the far side of the staircase.

"More trouble for Johnny. Don't worry. We'll take care of him when he comes out this way."

"You saw him go in, didn't you? Reversing the trail is the usual policy when the going gets hot. Get ready

The door from the kitchen clattered open at Cranston's words, but it wasn't Johnny who appeared. Instead,

Claybourne came storming through, shaking his fists back at a handful of servants who were trying to explain

matters as they followed along. Behind them came two gentlemen named Gilbin and Borgand, who were

Seeing Cranston, Claybourne stopped short, scarcely noting the members of his immediate family as they

"Craver, the ingrate," returned Claybourne. "He sneaked up to my private strongbox and robbed it. He and

Behind Cranston's back, Sheff and Hippo exchanged startled looks. Then, beginning with grins, they worked

their expressions back into the more respectable features of Sheffield Gilbin and Artemus Borgand.

The exchange of smiles denoted mutual satisfaction over a task well done; the next move was to be solemn,

which they did. Cranston was looking the other way, and before Margo noticed them, these swindlers who

"If Craver thinks he can consummate this outrage," stormed Claybourne, "I'll show him. I know where he's

stopping, at a cheap hotel called the Pilgrim. What a fool I was even to condone his visit here, but he's the

greater fool. He hasn't anywhere else to go except back to his hotel. I'll call the police and have them

While Claybourne was phoning the police and bellowing for rapid service, Cranston did the polite thing

under these embarrassing circumstances. He bowed a solemn good evening to the members of the

Family and servants were dispersing, except for the few who like Gilbin and Borgand were standing near

Claybourne on the far side of the very grand staircase. Nobody noticed the brief trip that Cranston made to

the near side of that same stairway to pick up what at a distance looked like an ordinary top coat that he

"I think so," replied Cranston with a nod. "What worries me is how long he will take to get there."

Odd that Lamont Cranston should be worrying over such a trifling matter at a time when Johnny Craver

wasn't. Or perhaps it was Margo Lane who should have been worrying because her feminine charm wasn't

Such charm had certainly overwhelmed Johnny. He didn't care who caught up with him, provided that they

At that moment, Johnny Craver was utterly oblivious to the fortune that was sprouting from his pockets,

utterly oblivious to the sumptuous trappings of the lavish limousine in which he was riding, utterly oblivious

Johnny was lost in utter rapture over a bluegowned blonde whose starry eyes had the same color as the

aquamarine studded bracelet and earrings that matched her identifying attire. He had found the girl of the

WHEN Linda Brock wanted to be cold, she put a warm look in her eyes. Not that Linda was cold by nature; it

was simply that she had a mind. A mind was a bad thing to have if you made it up the wrong way, as Johnny

There was only one mood to be in when Linda gave that look and Johnny was in it.

"Fancy meeting you," spoke Johnny. "Right where you said you'd be but I don't even know your name."

"Don't tell me." Johnny shook his head. "Just let me guess. Or let me create a name. What shall I call you?"

"Are you?" Johnny looked for the blue gown which was rather lost in the gloom that was dominated by

Linda's wealth of bare arms and shoulders. "Oh, yes, blue" he stared squarely into Linda's eyes "blue, like

"Aquamarines," corrected Linda. "An aquamarine is blue too, you know." Her gaze became very serious.

"You speak of health, happiness and wealth," added Johnny. "All three the glorious bounty of magnificent

Sapphire Springs, where trouble is washed away by the eternal flow of nature's true contentment."

Anyone else would have said that Johnny was quoting verbatim from a prospectus written by Noble J. Elder,

but Linda didn't say so. Her eyes went really starry in their far away gaze as though she was hearing inspired

"Really?" queried Linda, in a heartfelt tone. "Is it really that wonderful there?"

"So wonderful I never should have left there," declared Johnny, seriously. "I miss the scent of the pineladen

air, the ripple of the clear blue water that reflects the cloudless sky overhead."

Johnny began a disdainful smile that faded when he saw that Linda was really seeking honest testimony.

"The bottles are quite justified," explained Johnny. "At best, they give only a meager reflection of the

Springs' true color. You should go there" gently he tapped a finger to Linda's left earring "and learn the

"I wish I could," sighed Linda. "But somehow I feel that I should win out first, entirely on my own. There is

"That was my trouble," acknowledged Johnny. "But it licked me first. I couldn't get away from distillery

"Maybe they're what I need," declared Linda. "My problem grips me when I'm sober. Which reminds me; you

"These." Deftly, Linda began to draw the fat envelopes from Johnny's pockets. "Don't bother to check them;

they'll be safe with me. What's more" she was methodically stacking the bundles of Claybourne's wealth

Johnny laughed politely, to show that he didn't care. He'd had his fun in robbing Claybourne. Then:

"Quite the contrary," returned Linda. "I simply wilt under threat. Don't think I'm crazy. I'm just a bona fide

"Never mind," interrupted Johnny. "Noble J. Elder says the first step to a cure is to ignore. He practices

mental surgery but he doesn't believe in speaking of operations. Believe me, if you go to Sapphire Springs "

The car had stopped, so smoothly that Johnny didn't realize it, but Linda was accustomed to luxurious

brakebands. The glint of aquamarines fascinated Johnny as Linda raised her arm in a departing gesture.

"We're at your hotel," said the blonde. "Goodnight, Johnny, and if you want these" she was packing a

large rubber band around the envelopes that bulged with Claybourne's wealth "you will know where to

"But I don't know!" Johnny was stepping from the car as he spoke. "If I only had your phone number "

"You mean you've forgotten it so soon?" interposed Linda. "After calling me from Claybourne's? If I believed

that, Johnny" Linda's laugh was as ripply as Sapphire Springs "I could really believe that you'd forgotten

About the only thing Johnny hadn't forgotten was his room number at the Hotel Pilgrim. He wasn't even sure

of that, but the hotel clerk was, when Johnny stopped at the desk. Receiving the key, Johnny looked at the

number and rode up to the sixteenth floor. Practically stumbling into his room he was beginning to realize

what a few double Scotches could mean when taken as chasers after about ninety gallons of Sapphire Water.

Fumbling in his pockets, Johnny found them empty and was a trifle puzzled. Stepping further into the room

he tripped over what proved to be a fresh case of Sapphire Water, purchased that afternoon by Kirkwood, the

man who forgot nothing. Floundering to a chair, Johnny picked up the telephone and thickly demanded long

"Get me Sapphire Springs... Don't know what state it's in... Only know the state I'm in... You won't have any

trouble finding it... There's only one Sapphire Springs... Only one Noble J. Elder... Get the name? Noble J.

Johnny tried to pace as he awaited the completion of the call. What made it harder was the case of Sapphire

Water, so he kept shoving it toward the window. Facts, and troublesome ones, were whirling through

Johnny's mind; the best way to lick them was to imagine that he was back at Sapphire Springs.

The wail of the police sirens made it difficult, though Johnny mistook them for fire trucks. There weren't any

fire trucks around Sapphire Springs, so the shrieks spoiled the illusion, particularly when they began to close

in on the Hotel Pilgrim. Staring from the window, Johnny looked for the fire trucks, but all he saw was a

taxicab that stopped so suddenly that Johnny looked ahead of it, wondering why it hadn't kept on further.

The sirens were getting very close. Savagely, Johnny reached to close the window, when they stopped. He

was his old self now, angry, moody, thwarted, ready to avoid challenges instead of meeting them.

Johnny could hear an elevator rumbling. It reminded him too much of Claybourne's. Wanting something

more pleasant, he began to think of Linda. Who she was, he didn't remember, but somehow she belonged to

Sapphire Springs, probably because she liked blue. Johnny could picture her emerging from those clear blue

waters, like some naiad, one of those sprites that gave perpetual flow to Grecian fountains.

Yes, that was just what Sapphire Springs needed: a naiad. Linda would be a perfect candidate and her picture

would certainly improve the bottle labels. Maybe Noble J. Elder would pay for the idea and charge off some

The telephone bell didn't interrupt Johnny's thoughts. It simply crystallized them. Here was his chance to sell

Johnny put the query as he lifted the receiver, only it wasn't Elder's pleasant voice that replied. It was a gruff

The words doused Johnny like a bucket of blue from the icy depths of Sapphire Springs. He was cold sober in

"Don't try anything, Craver." Cardona's tone was blunt, commanding. "If you've got a gun, forget it. The odds

The receiver clicked as though that settled it and like an echo came an ending of the elevator rumble, a clang

of the door. Inspector Cardona had miscalculated the time element, perhaps purposely, but he wasn't far off.

Not far off in distance, either, considering that the elevators were just around the corridor corner from

Johnny's room. Half a minute maybe less and the squad would be here, depending upon how well they

A short, bitter laugh slipped from Johnny's lips. He was himself alright, his old self, ready for the thing he'd

tried before when he felt that life was trapping him too tightly in its unnecessary mesh.

One touch of breeze from the open window told him just that. This time there weren't any unwanted friends

around to stop Johnny from taking the easy way out that had preceded his visit to Sapphire Springs. Only

Staring straight at the open window, Johnny started toward it with a quickening step. His pace at the finish

was a half run, for he fancied that he could hear the door opening behind him. Just short of the window,

Johnny tripped and took a lurch across the sill; instinctively, he threw his hands toward the sides of the

Then, sneering at his own folly, Johnny let his fingers miss their grip. Headlong he pitched outward,

That blackness, however, was not the sort that Johnny sought. Instead of receiving him, blackness overtook

him, living blackness in the form of a cloaked shape that swept in from the opened door.

Again, Johnny Craver was in the grip of The Shadow, the rescuer who had saved him from an earlier death.

IF ever a man fought hard to die, Johnny Craver qualified for that distinction. In The Shadow, Johnny was

meeting someone superhuman, so he retaliated in kind. Twisted back from the window, facing the blackness

of the room instead of the great outdoors, Johnny decided to put the yoheave to the cloaked tackler who had

It was really very simple. All Johnny had to do was pitch The Shadow from the window and follow through.

Wiry of build, his system hardened by the iron in Sapphire Water, Johnny showed how a mass of latent

ability could be concentrated into a display of sudden power. Using the windowsill as a fulcrum, he levered

his body backward with a force that carried The Shadow clear over his head into the same sort of dive in

The window stopped proceedings. It wasn't big enough to accommodate two plungers all at once. Halted by

the raised sash, The Shadow ricocheted straight downward for a return bout. Fighting off The Shadow's grip,

Johnny grabbed a handy weapon from the floor and sizeable though it was, attempted to bludgeon The

A moment later he was recoiling from The Shadow's furious thrust. Poked squarely in the diaphragm, Johnny

folded in a corner of the room, leaving The Shadow in complete control of both the situation and the missile

that Johnny had tried to hurl. But the new state of things was not recognized by arrivals who had failed to

Cardona had exaggerated the statistics. His squad numbered only three; not five. He was right though, about

them being ready to shoot, for they launched into the room with revolvers poked ahead of them. Seeing the

glittering muzzles of the police positives, The Shadow made a quick whirl from the window and in that

moment, the headquarters men saw him give a sideward fling to the shape with which he grappled.

The detectives were too late to stop the tragedy. Over the sill toppled the clumsy figure that The Shadow

released. Maybe Johnny Craver had sought suicide, but this was murder, at least from the police standpoint.

From a fleeting glimpse, Cardona's men gauged the direction that The Shadow had taken and drove for him,

guns spouting flame. They were firing high and such shots didn't count with The Shadow.

The cloaked fighter came headlong through the trio, spilling them in an uneven row. Hesitating at the door,

he turned to deride them with a lowtoned taunt that he customarily reserved for men of crime. The frustrated

members of the force didn't stop to debate why The Shadow was behaving out of character; instead, they

The police were using the stairway instead of the short route that had appealed to Johnny. They chose the

stairs because that was the way The Shadow went. Odd how he turned corners just when they saw him, as

though waiting for them to keep within range. Only The Shadow was always out of range when they fired.

After a few floors down, The Shadow pursuers almost thought they were imagining that they saw him make

the turns ahead of them. Still they kept nicking the corners with their gunfire, hoping to stumble across their

prey as a result. It didn't occur to them that The Shadow could have sidestepped somewhere and let them pass

Then they saw that there wasn't anybody within shooting range ahead of them; no one except Inspector Joe

Cardona who was standing with folded arms, a frown upon his swarthy face. Halting their helterskelter race,

"We ought to have clipped him, after seeing him pitch young Craver out the window."

That last comment brought a lift of Cardona's eyebrows. Unfolding his arms, he gestured to the door.

"Too bad about young Craver," growled the inspector. "Come out and take a look at him."

The detectives went out to take a look and found the sidewalk thoroughly spattered, but not with Johnny.

What they saw was the total ruin of a full case of Sapphire Water, its broken blue glass strewn everywhere.

That crate of health fluid was the bludgeon which Johnny had used against The Shadow only to have it driven

back against his ribs. It was also the blocky object, sizeable enough to be a huddled body, that the detectives

Up in room 1614 the telephone was ringing. From his corner, Johnny was stirring in a feeble effort to answer

it. A cloaked figure, stepping in from the door, performed that service for him. Then the voice of Lamont

"Hello... Elder? This is Cranston... Yes, I'm with Johnny, looking out for him... He seems to be all right,

"Yes, I'll take care of him... No, don't worry... No need to send Kirkwood back here... You say Kirkwood just

arrived and reported everything was well with Johnny?... It was, when Kirkwood left...

"About Johnny? It's nothing very serious... Of course, if he needs another rest, I'll ship him to Sapphire

It was The Shadow more than Cranston who looked out for Johnny and in a very emphatic way. Considerably

recuperated, Johnny was snarling as he stumbled toward the voice he heard, both hands extended for another

grapple. What Johnny wasn't expecting was the cloaked elbow that jogged up from the telephone.

Out of the surrounding darkness that elbow clipped Johnny's outstretched jaw and slumped him back into

another coma. The only thing that prevented him from falling was the gloved hand that caught Johnny's arm

and then drew as well as guided him out into the corridor, into the empty elevator.

Dropping down to the second floor, The Shadow disembarked his groggy companion. There was a back way

out, a narrow flight of steps leading down through a service exit. In the rear street, Johnny revived

considerably thanks to the fresh air and at this low altitude there wasn't any chance for him to repeat his

suicide efforts. Frisking Johnny's pockets, The Shadow found them empty, so he steered Johnny off along a

"Just keep walking, Johnny. There will be a cab coming soon. Wait for it at the cigar store, three blocks

With Johnny navigating in the stolid fashion of a zombi, The Shadow returned into the hotel and opened a

door connecting with the lobby. Peering from the fringe of halfframed blackness, The Shadow watched a

lone detective who was stationed by the desk. Apparently he was waiting for news from upstairs where

The Shadow interpreted these replies to mean that the detective hadn't seen anyone come through the lobby,

that he'd been ardent in his duty meanwhile, that the missing elevator hadn't come down to the ground floor,

By the time the detective was back at the telephone saying "It's on the second floor, inspector," The Shadow

There wasn't any sign of Johnny at the appointed corner, so The Shadow took it that Shrevvy's cab had picked

Rather previous, that laugh, as Mr. Cranston was to learn when he shed his present trappings.

"You mean he was supposed to be here," corrected Margo, from the rear seat. "That is, if you mean Johnny."

"Who else would I mean? The chief wouldn't have stayed around this long, would he?"

"No, and neither would we, if he happened to be with us. Those patrol cars are zimming pretty close,

At that reminder, Shrevvy clicked off the cab lights just as a police car whizzed past the corner. Being of a

distinctly dark pattern, the cab was overlooked, but luck played more than a healthy part.

"Better get going," decided Shrevvy, half to himself. "Take a big loop and work back this way. If they spot us

The grand circuit carried Shrevvy considerably further than he'd planned, clear to the neighborhood of the

Penn Station which wasn't so far from the old Hotel Pilgrim as Margo remembered from that afternoon. Sight

of the station gave Shrevvy the smart idea of riding down the ramp, tossing a few bits of banter with the cab

starter, and pulling out again. He could say later that Margo was a passenger from Penn Station and have an

Shrevvy's notion brought unexpected dividends. In fact it topped one mystery with another.

Pulling out from the ramp, Shrevvy jammed the car to a halt, pointed diagonally across the street and

It wasn't hard identifying Johnny. His chin had its defiant thrust, his eyes a quick glance. His shoulders

showed their habitual stoop and he showed a customary sign of being nervous when he thrust his fingers

through his rumpled brown hair. In looking anxiously for someone, Johnny jostled passersby who stopped

to give him harsh looks in return, which Johnny ignored in characteristic fashion.

Right now, Shrevvy's cab was becoming the vortex of a sizeable traffic jam which he had personally caused

by halting too close to the ramp. Horns were honking from a barrier of vehicles that were blocking off all

paths to Johnny, even for Margo, if she'd tried to cut across the street on foot.

So Margo didn't try, especially when she saw it was too late. Another girl had captured Johnny ahead of her.

From a stopping limousine, a blonde vision in blue emerged from a rear door and reached Johnny in a dozen

highheeled strides. The blonde's advent really stopped traffic, for she looked like something launched

The girl was more visible than her gown when Margo first saw her, because only her head and shoulders

could be seen through the crowd. She was plucking Johnny with one hand, trying to hand him a package with

the other, and the gestures of her expressive arms were exciting much admiration, except from Johnny.

Excitedly, Johnny waved the blonde dream back to the limousine and nodded that he would follow. By then,

Margo had opened the top of Shrevvy's skyview cab and was standing up to look out through. That was when

Margo gained sufficient downslant to observe the blue evening gown that matched the blonde's scintillating

Clutching the package as he huddled into the limousine, Johnny shoved the girl ahead of him and the big car

cut a quick swath through traffic around the next corner. Margo landed in the back seat as Shrevvy's cab shot

"Looks like Johnny had another date," parried Shrevvy, through the connecting window. "What do we do

"You've done enough," snapped Margo, as she climbed from the depths of the back seat. "I guess all we can

"Not unless that was a policewoman," returned Margo. "She was wearing blue, you know."

"I didn't notice," declared Shrevvy. "Anyway, most lady cops are heavier on beef than she was." He paused,

"Not a bit," retorted Margo. "Keep watching for that limousine. We may cross its path."

The mystery of the blonde was matched by the new riddle of Johnny when Shrevvy suddenly saw him,

tracing his way back along the very street where he was supposed to have waited at the cigar store. Jamming

"Can you beat that! Right away the dream lady ditches him, back where he isn't supposed to be!"

"Only this is where he ought to be," reminded Margo, "from our selfish standpoint, anyway. Take him on

They took him on board and he settled in the seat beside Margo, muttering thin excuses that were thick in

"Hello, Margo." Johnny spoke as though recognizing something that was creeping out of a fog. "Didn't know

"Don't you mean somebody all unshrouded in blue?" interrupted Margo. "No, you couldn't, because she

wouldn't be expecting you to meet me at all. And for the sixtyfour dollar question: Why pass up a date with

Johnny's reaction was a startled, guilty stare. He seemed to be regarding Margo as some modern sibyl who

could reel off past, present, and perhaps future with the precision of an ancient oracle. Then:

"Don't be naive," rejoined Margo. "I wasn't outside Claybourne's; I was inside. But let's skip it. We'll talk

Meeting Cranston was part of the quickly planned schedule that Cranston had personally arranged while

riding from Claybourne's with Margo. The meeting was to be at midnight at a quiet spot favored by the

conservative minority of cafe society. With half an hour remaining until that time, Margo was quite sure that

At present Cranston was at the Cobalt Club, a place noted for its limited membership. Police Commissioner

Weston also belonged and was usually found there evenings, this one for example. Right down, Weston was

Slamming down the telephone, Weston turned to his calmfaced friend and demanded:

"It's only about five blocks to the Pilgrim," reminded Cranston. "You were shouting loud enough to be heard

"Until it broke up," returned Cranston with a nod. "Claybourne talked about calling the police, so I dropped

"We have too many facts already," grumbled Weston, "but not the sort we want. Anyway, you couldn't

"You wouldn't know what Craver did with those securities he took from Claybourne's, would you?"

"I rather fancied that he carried them to the Hotel Pilgrim," returned Cranston. "That is, if he went there."

"He went there alright," announced Weston, "but now he's gone again. They've searched his room inside out,

but there's no trace of those stocks and bonds" Weston paused, impressively "a half million's worth, by

For the moment, Cranston appeared nonplussed. He could have controlled his expression, but he didn't try. It

fitted the occasion and what was more, his manner was genuine. In searching Johnny's pockets as The

Shadow, Cranston had assured himself the securities weren't there and therefore assumed that Johnny had

"I don't think so," asserted Weston, "because in that case he wouldn't have bothered to stop at the hotel. Or

"Were unusual," completed Weston, abruptly. "Somebody met Craver in that hotel room, Cranston; a person

"An old friend of ours," added Weston. "Or maybe just a friend of yours. The Shadow."

"That settles it, commissioner," he assured. "Claybourne will get back everything he lost."

"I'm not so sure," retorted Weston. "From latest reports, The Shadow was at Claybourne's, too, apparently

aiding Craver's escape. The same thing happened all over again at the Hotel Pilgrim. Well" Weston

"By returning Claybourne's securities within the next twentyfour hours. If he doesn't, we'll know that The

Shadow has turned to crime and we shall act accordingly. Think it over, Cranston, and you'll agree that I'm

Though Cranston didn't agree, he was thinking it over when he left the Cobalt Club to keep his midnight

appointment. Of one thing, Cranston was sure, and too sure; namely, that Weston was right in surmising that

Unless Johnny had reclaimed them or knew where they could be found, crime's burden would unquestionably

Margo Lane was ardent in her plea, so ardent that it seemed that time was running short.

This was the next night after the rapidfire events that had begun at Claybourne's and ended at the Hotel

Pilgrim. Though the evening was young, the midnight deadline was rapidly approaching and Johnny still

"I guess I had too much to drink last night." Wearily, Johnny stroked back his hair. "Those doubles at

"That was my fault," broke in Margo. "I shouldn't have let you take those drinks before Lamont arrived."

"It didn't matter, Margo." This came from Cranston, who spoke very calmly. "Johnny's memory lapses began

"I phoned somebody from the hotel," he recalled. "That was in the afternoon, but I can't remember who she

"I suppose so," said Johnny, with another nod. "I was to receive a message and I did. After I read it well, I

"Logical enough," agreed Cranston, "since the message was the combination of Claybourne's wall safe."

"But you called the girl again," insisted Margo. "I heard you, Johnny. You talked to her from Claybourne's

"That was another blank spot," he declared. "I really mean it, Margo. I wouldn't say so if I didn't, because the

thing scares me. All I can remember was leaving Claybourne's smoking room and going up in the elevator to

"Very clear," affirmed Johnny, "except for the human thunder cloud that barged into Claybourne when he

was letting ride with a shotgun I didn't know was loaded. But honestly" the tone was strongly sincere "I

didn't feel that I was robbing Claybourne. I planned to send back everything except what was really mine. I'd

"About fifty thousand. I think Claybourne would have listened, Cranston. After all, he took in that much right

while we were in the smoking room with him. It was cruel the way he gypped those two chaps what were

"That's right." Johnny's nod showed there were some things he could remember. "Anyway, that was really

what set my mind at rest. It proved how Claybourne had swindled my father and therefore justified my desire

Margo expected Cranston to criticise Johnny's method, but he didn't. Cranston was being lenient, perhaps too

lenient with this young man who interpreted the fine points of justice to suit himself. Still, a broad

interpretation was necessary to cover The Shadow's activities in the case. Though his motive had been the

saving of Johnny's life, it had indirectly furthered the theft and disappearance of Claybourne's wealth.

That final point most concerned The Shadow and was therefore of importance to Cranston. With only a few

hours until another midnight, he hadn't long to meet the law's ultimatum as voiced by Commissioner Weston.

"So you left Claybourne's," Cranston said to Johnny. "You met the girl in blue and gave her the stolen

Wincing a trifle at the word 'stolen' Johnny controlled himself and nodded. Then:

"I should have asked her name," he admitted, "but I was supposed to know it. She promised to return the

"No, she didn't," replied Johnny frankly. He reached for a newspaper and gestured to its headlines. "I can't

The newspaper, dated that evening, had much to say about Johnny's escapade, with plenty of hints about an

unknown accomplice who had assisted in the compounding of the felony. Likewise there was mention of the

girl in blue, variously described by numerous witnesses who had viewed the trafficstopping thrill near

That grand finale had rather obfuscated the earlier events, by the time the evening newspapers took over the

story. The nature of Johnny's crime didn't much matter when compared with the fact that he, a fugitive from

justice, had been literally snatched from circulation by an enterprising blonde who rated somewhere between

It was a wonder that anybody had gained a good look at Johnny, but apparently they had, for accounts were

still coming in with his description. Nobody had thought to prevent his departure in the limousine because it

hadn't then been known that a half a million dollars was the actual issue at stake.

"I can't remember." Johnny groaned as he buried his head in his hands. "I can't remember it at all. I'd swear I

met the girl only once, when she came to Claybourne's. I gave her the securities, yes, but I didn't expect them

"Maybe I went berserk when I reached the hotel. I did try to throw myself out the window and somebody

stopped me, hard. But it was all blackness, even the man who rescued me. He steered me along the street and

"Then I was stumbling back again and it all seemed like a dream. Or maybe I was just in a fog, but it all

amounted to the same. I don't remember getting as far as the Penn Station, let alone meeting the girl again, or

getting into the car. I thought my own imagination was good, but a lot of people have me stopped."

Margo looked at Cranston and shook her head. It couldn't have been all imagination, this testimony from a

cloud of witnesses. Margo could personally swear the same, with Shrevvy to certify her statements. If

Lamont wanted to charge it off to another of Johnny's mental lapses, he was privileged to do so.

Before Margo could broach the subject, the telephone bell rang. It startled Johnny, even though he was in the

security of Cranston's Manhattan apartment. Answering the call, Cranston found it was long distance, calling

Gesturing that he wanted no interruptions, Cranston talked to Noble J. Elder and gave an encouraging report

"You're welcome back there any time you want to go. Would you prefer to stay here until matters

"You could leave tomorrow, if you wanted," reminded Cranston, "on the same train Kirkwood took."

"That wouldn't get me there until after midnight," declared Johnny. "Still, it would be better than a sleeper

trip. Maybe a rest at the Springs would do me good, but I ought to be cleared to some degree before I go

"You will be by tomorrow," assured Cranston. There was a grim note to his words that worried Margo.

Accompanying Cranston from the apartment, Margo could hardly wait to pour her flood of apprehensions. In

"You can't believe all this, Lamont. I know you can't, from the way you just spoke. If you don't turn Johnny

over to the police, you'll be well, at least The Shadow will be blamed for the Claybourne robbery!"

"That's better," said Cranston with a smile. "I'm still in the clear, Margo, and so are you."

"We're both still welcome at Claybourne's, which is where you're going right now."

"To find out about that girl in blue. She strikes me as someone who might have been invited to the party but

The logic struck home to Margo. If Johnny had told the truth, Cranston's opinion was likely. Assuming that

the blue girl had sent Johnny the combination to the safe, it could mean that she had been a house guest at

Claybourne's in order to obtain it. Worth testing at least, but there was one point on which Margo couldn't

"These memory lapses of Johnny's. They're just too, too convenient, Lamont. Why you haven't any proof "

"When you told me about Johnny's telephone call; the one he made from Claybourne's and couldn't

"Not from your description. You said he stared right through you, as if he didn't know you. That wasn't smart,

Cranston was right, as usual. He was giving Margo a lot to think about during her trip to Claybourne's. But

when he placed her in Shrevvy's cab outside the apartment house, Margo flung aside her own perplexities.

"Hunting, Margo, for a different kind of game than you'll find in Claybourne's trophy room unless you

Margo did, with silent sincerity. But as the cab whisked her off to Claybourne's, she couldn't help but feel that

the slogan of 'good hunting' would be needed less by Cranston than by The Shadow.

THE question of Claybourne's trophies, as represented by his unstuffed wall safe, was quite a problem for

Messrs. Gilbin and Borgand. Aloof from the law, these two gentlemen were seated in a lavish hotel suite,

At least this phoney pair could afford to be comfortable in privacy. They were sitting in shirt sleeves and

slippers, sprinkling ashes on a costly rug, freely calling each other by their wrong names of Sheff and Hippo.

"Look at this dump." Sheff snarled as though wishing the walls had ears. "Twentyfive smackers a day for a

"And didn't need in the first place," reminded Hippo. "What did Claybourne care about where we came from,

"It was good business staying here at first," argued Sheff, "considering we were playing a ten to one shot for

"Five to one," corrected Hippo. "You said yourself that only half of Claybourne's paper would be negotiable.

Say, though now that Craver has the brand on him, why don't we pull out our potatoes by stopping payment

"With Craver missing along with the dough? You're big enough to be grown up, Hippo. All that's keeping us

"You mean why is he in the clear? Because that's his racket. Only this time he may have played it too strong

For reply, Sheff began with a sharp smile which on his sallow face gathered a Satanic prophecy.

"This business of The Shadow being always right has given him all the big innings," asserted Sheff. "It's time

it was the other way around. If somebody declared an open season on The Shadow, what would happen?"

"If The Shadow has it, yes" Sheff's forehead formed dark furrows "but I'm not sure just where The

There was a knock at the door before Hippo could reply and it made the big man scramble in a fashion suiting

his nickname. Hippo was grabbing for coat and vest, while looking for his shoes. It wouldn't do for Mr.

"Forget it, Hippo," snorted Sheff. "You ought to know Shebley's knock. I sure timed it, didn't I?"

Stepping to the door, Sheff opened it, to admit the spickandspan chauffeur who piloted the Brock

limousine. Dapper at a distance, Shebley showed the face of an ingrown rat when viewed at this close range;

habitually he probably tried to control that expression, but there was no necessity here. In fact, Shebley

needed to be tough, as he plainly saw when Sheff closed the door and leaned against it.

"All right, fancy pants," snapped Sheff. "How come the dame crossed you up last night?"

"How do I know?" Shebley lighted a cigarette to show he wasn't nervous. "She's nuts, as you ought to know,

"Not nuts," put in Hippo, thrusting his bulky figure forward to accompany his booming voice. "She's just got

"Kleptomania," corrected Sheff. "Well, since she got hold of Claybourne's stuff, why didn't she hang onto it?"

"Look, gents." The chauffeur spread his hands, halfpleadingly. "She ain't rational, that's admitted. I'm the

guy can testify to that, being unprejudiced. Her aunts and cousins make excuses and say it all means nothing,

"So do we," retorted Sheff. "We tested her with those fake phone calls, tipping her off to where she could

"Yeah," added Hippo. "We were some of the voices she kept telling you about, saying they controlled her.

"We said somebody needed that combination," reminded Sheff. "Somebody she ought to help, which turned

"And it was right in the bag," growled Hippo. "When Craver showed up at Claybourne's, it was just a case of

letting him do the job and take the rap. If he trusted the dame enough to pull the grab, he ought to have let her

"I'm telling you again, that's what he did do," the chauffeur asserted. "We drop Craver near his hotel and I

drive the dame home with the package. I'm expecting her to call it a night, when all of a sudden she shows up

"Yeah, that she'd been hearing more voices," returned the chauffeur. "How was I to know different? I figured

maybe somebody at Claybourne's had guessed right, about the Brock dame I mean, and one of you had

"To what? You wouldn't have been meeting her yourselves, would you? I figured you had him tagged, seeing

With a blunt but satisfied nod, Sheff stepped away from the door. Always slow to understand, Hippo thought

this an oversight and used his bulk to supplant Sheff's. By then, the others were taking chairs, and Sheff

"It begins to add up," admitted Sheff. "When you phoned, you said Linda had you drive around in circles,

"He had the package," continued Sheff, "and all she did from then on was go home."

Another nod from Shebley; scarcely noticing it, Sheff turned to jab his elbows into Hippo's ribs. With a dumb

look that in his case stood for concentration, Hippo was staring toward the forgotten door.

"Listen to this, Hippo," insisted Sheff. "It's important. That door's latched; it won't pop open."

"Looked like it was trying to," returned Hippo. "Guess the optimist wasn't kidding when he said I needed

"If you mean the optometrist who said you needed bifocals, he was right. But we still need your opinion in

case of a tie vote. Craver dropped off at Penn Station so he could hop the midnight sleeper to Sapphire

"Then I win one to two," decided Sheff. "That cureall joint is the first place he wouldn't go, whether he's

nuts or otherwise, because it's where they'd track him. Let's say he went somewhere else. Next question: Did

Neither of the others could decide. Hippo for one was stealing another glance at the door, but he hadn't time

to notice that the black crack had widened almost an inch. Sheff nudged Hippo again, as he said:

"Maybe Craver didn't. He could have stashed the stuff in one of those checking boxes. Any mail come for the

"I don't know," admitted Shebley. "I ain't paid to snoop. What with new folks showing up most every day,

like the flatfaced freak who came yesterday, saying she was Cousin Janice, my best dodge is being polite."

"All right," acknowledged Sheff, "but get this. When a couple of clucks start playing beanbag with a half a

"Gave me the rest of the day off," replied Shebley "which is unusual. If she goes out, she'll have to use one of

"Those things lose themselves in Penn Station, there's so many of them around there," reminded Sheff.

"Maybe I'm right on the beanbag business. Only there may be something more to it, such as another voice."

Hippo's slow mood vanished at that suggestion. Half up from the chair that creaked under his action, Hippo

threw another of his too quick looks at the door, then faced Sheff with the exclamation:

"Not The Shadow," snarled Sheff. "I told you he'd have given Claybourne a refund by this time. Somebody

else is working on that Brock doll" he swung savagely to Shebley "and it's your business to do better than

"But but how " Shebley was all stammers. "Look, Sheff what can I do except remember what the

dame tells me? Like all that gush about how can she wait for the jewel show in the Petite Room at the Hotel

"Be reasonable, Sheff. You know and I know that even Miss Lindamania Brock can't get her rednailed

pinkies on that bunch of sparklers, not with Niblo Klemmet running the show. When a wrong guy really turns

right which is something you and Hippo only think you've done there's nobody could do a put over on

The mere mention of Niblo Klemmet stirred Sheff to a further display of facial savagery. It was Hippo's turn

"Niblo Klemmet!" snorted Hippo. "Who says he's right, unless you figure right is what we call it and that's

wrong. I know Niblo and he's the con man's con. Always let somebody take everything but the gravy and the

roast beef and potatoes that went with it, back when there used to be roast beef and potatoes. He was the guy

Sheff didn't exactly interrupt Hippo's harangue because he wasn't listening to it. Sheff had grabbed a

newspaper and was scampering through the pages; now, his question was shot at Shebley instead of Hippo:

"How should I know?" retorted Shebley. "I only listened to what the Brock number tells me "

"Then listen to what I tell you." Sheff thrust the newspaper in front of Shebley's eyes. "It starts tonight.

Blondie Brock could hardly wait, could she? Only she clammed all of a sudden and then gives you the

evening off. All right, Hippo, it's your turn. What power did Niblo have over dames?"

"And plenty," asserted Hippo. "They were the queens that topped the other guy's aces. Why, the time that

Broadway con crew were using the show business to take a couple of angels, Niblo had the leading lady

"Just like he's got the Brock dame taking us," interrupted Sheff. "He's using a million dollars worth of fancy

ice as a front so she can deliver half that much that belongs to us. We're pikers, slumming in this hotel suite

"You stay on call, Shebley, because we may need you. Get out that other shirt of yours, Hippo, and the tails

that go with it. We're crashing the Petite Room in a big way and in a hurry. And oh, yes" Sheff snapped his

Nobody saw the door close, nor heard the slight sound of its clicking latch, both actions being preparatory to

Shebley's immediate departure. Out in the corridor, blackness seemed to gather itself into a living shape

which glided like a cloud of human smoke and blended its cloaked form into the darkness of a stairway.

There was mockery more poignant than Sheff's in the confidential laugh that gave whispered evidence of The

A VERY suspicious woman opened the door of the brownstone house and croaked from the unlighted

After a moment's hesitation, Margo Lane gave her name; then added, emboldened by the sound of her own

Going right up was easy. The house was sparing on lights, so all Margo had to do was follow them like the

green line in the subway shuttle. She didn't even glance back to appraise the croaking lady, who was probably

some unimportant servant. In a room on the second floor, Margo found Linda seated in front of a dressing

Looking over the lovely shoulders that topped the chair back, Margo saw that Linda was really wearing blue,

what there was of it. The same blue in fact that had attracted secondary attention during the traffic tieup at

"Very well," acquiesced Margo. "But I thought you weren't going out these days, Linda."

"These days or these nights?" Linda rippled a laugh. "I suppose you mean why wasn't I at the Claybourne

"Then you know why now," continued Linda. "I knew it would be boring. Only you should have guessed."

Turning in her chair, Linda clasped Margo's hand between hers. There was sincerity in Linda's grip as well as

"It's so good to see someone human!" exclaimed Linda. "I just haven't wanted to go anywhere and I couldn't

"You must have seen Cousin Janice, because she's the only person who could have let you in. They've been

"Because I'm a " Linda paused and whistled. "There, now I can get the word. I'm a psychiatric case. They've

"Not poor Linda." The blonde smiled in Mona Lisa fashion. "Better say Rich Linda. They're after my

The last words were harsh. Turning toward the mirror as she uttered them, Linda frowned at sight of herself.

"There I go again," she chided. "Copying my Aunt Sabbatha, who thought the family was trying to do her out

of a fortune when they were actually supporting her. I take after Aunt Sabbatha, I'm afraid, except" Linda's

Rising from her chair, Linda pressed her hand to her forehead, as though a pang had gripped her. Stepping to

a side table, she poured herself a glass of water from a familiar blue bottle and drank it in one long draught.

"Maybe headaches are imagination," said Linda, with a bitter smile. "If that's the case, so is this cure, but it

"Here are some pictures of the place." Linda handed Margo a beautifully printed folder, with blue the

"That's just it." Slowly, Linda shook her head. "I don't trust myself, either. Really, I hate to be like Aunt

Sabbatha; she was all smoke and no fire. But I guess since I'm fire, I'm entitled to a little smoke."

"You mean you're afraid Sapphire Springs would turn out to be something more than a sanitarium?"

"That's the general idea. I actually accused the relatives of trying to put me away. I thought that would stop

"Almost. Then Cousin Janice crawled from beneath an uncharted stone. I shouldn't say that, though. She only

arrived yesterday and so far she's proven to be quite nice. For one thing, none of the others ever mentioned

Beckoning Margo into an adjoining room, Linda waved toward a collection of antiques, or objects which

could be termed such, though the unpracticed eye might have classed them under the general head of junk

furniture. Almost in the center of the room was a bureau to which Linda pointed.

"Aunt Sabbatha's," explained Linda. "I used to sit in front of it and complete my makeup. Last night"

Linda paused; her eyes went questioning "you won't think I'm crazy if I tell you, Margo?"

"I was sitting in front of the mirror," continued Linda, "finishing the final touches, when I noticed" stepping

forward Linda gave her arm a long and daring thrust which momentarily startled Margo "I noticed this!"

At that, Linda's hand and arm went right through the circular frame where a mirror should have been. Having

taken a few steps forward, Margo saw the vacancy and rather felt her look was much the same when she

"No, don't say it," declared Linda. "Don't tell me I'm crazy if I thought I saw myself in a mirror that wasn't

there. It could have been force of habit, poor memory, or the fact that I was feeling a bit hazy. Only "

"Only I haven't been able to find the mirror," she said finally. "Last night was excusable, but if I've been

thinking for weeks that I've been seeing myself in Aunt Sabbatha's imaginary mirror, well then what?"

"A trip to Sapphire Springs," suggested Margo, "before you really have to go somewhere else."

Linda nodded as though she really agreed. Suddenly her manner became furtive. A moment later it changed

to a mood of complete confession as she drew open the bureau drawer to reveal a great mass of trinkets,

"What would you think of a woman who acted like a jackdaw?" queried Linda. "One who just wanted

"Yes, she was that way." Linda relaxed, as though thankful for Margo's timely query. "You know why I'm

"Because Aunt Sabbatha used to put all her geegaws in front of it so she'd see twice as many. Thank

Turning on a high heel, Linda went back to her own room, with Margo following. In the real mirror, the

"To the jewel exhibit at the Petite Room. In the Hotel Regal, you know." Linda suddenly arched a sharp look

"Not a chance," assured Margo. "They're mourning over some sort of robbery that occurred last night. Mr.

"How sad," said Linda, indifferently. "The robbery, I mean. I never read the newspapers and the radio is so

abominable. But tell me" her eyes went sharp, though her tone didn't "how did the Claybournes happen to

"But why did you go there?" snapped Linda. "I never would, unless I'd forgotten something from the last

"Which I had," ad libbed Margo. "My wrap. Anyway, I was talking to the female child "

"Because, Miss District Attorney" Margo decided that a few pointed remarks would put Linda more at ease

"And or, to use legal terminology. Anyway, one glimpse of you drove her gaga. That's why she insisted on

"I remember." Linda gritted a few teeth. "What did she call that horrible place where all the things stared

"The trophy room. She showed me through it, too, but very briefly. She was afraid of more trouble."

"Yes, You wouldn't run when she heard her papa coming and she had to push you behind a screen."

"So that was what he was doing! I thought he was dedicating another set of moose horns!"

"I'll say I did. I was afraid I was prying into some secret ritual peculiar to the Claybourne family. Of course

"I guess not." Finishing her prinking, Linda poked her hand against the mirror to make sure there really was

one. "She got whaled for being there and I watched from outside the door, thinking it would be a pleasure.

"She knows it. She was sick for a week from that fivepound box of candy you sent her. Anyway, she

wouldn't have breathed a word, even to me, unless she'd known we were really good friends. At that she

"Well, you already knew, Linda. Anyway, little Miss Claybourne's lips are sealed."

"With chocolate marshmallows." Turning, Linda faced Margo with a bold smile. "I have taking ways, don't I,

Whether Linda meant personally or through indirect influence, she didn't specify, so Margo begged the

question. They went downstairs together and all the way Margo was wishing she could risk a phone call to

Lamont if she only knew where to reach him. She'd struck luck at Claybourne's and hadn't hesitated to follow

As a mental case with a convenient loss of memory, Linda somehow managed to outmaneuver Johnny. She

could remember things when they were tossed at her, yet make it look as though she had forgotten. As for

those things up in the bureau drawer, Margo was sure they weren't Aunt Sabbatha's.

By the time they were downstairs, Margo was calming her nerves. When Linda stepped into a room beside

the oldfashioned hall, mentioning that she always took a last look at her makeup, Margo decided that the

blonde was getting back to normal. Watching from the doorway, Margo couldn't quite see Linda's reflection

in a curious old mirror in the other room, but of course Linda happened to be blocking off the view.

At least Margo thought so, until she decided that her own makeup must be sagging by default, considering

the time that Linda took. So as Linda stepped away, with a flash of blue that had all the elements of a

It was just another of those empty frames, this one set in front of a doorway. No mirror, in fact not anything.

This time Linda had kept up with her imagination and Margo felt that she would personally be in the swim if

Linda was calling sweetly from the doorway, very much the sane self that Margo wasn't. Overtaking the

From somewhere a voice croaked the equivalent of a good night, though the words weren't very

distinguishable. Then Margo and Linda were out in the very sweet night air, in darkness so thick and lovely

that Margo felt relieved by the hope that it might contain some holdup men who in a pinch would furnish

Certainly such characters would run if Margo let loose with the scream she wanted to give. It might even be

enough to bring Cousin Janice hopping out in a froggish fashion that would suit her croaky voice. But that

secondary possibility among the catalog of horrors was enough to maintain Margo's silence.

Headlights cut a sudden swath from the corner and Linda calmly announced that they were in luck to get a

cab so quickly. Luck spelled Shrevvy in Margo's mental dictionary, because it was his cab. He'd waited after

delivering Margo to the brownstone abomination that Linda called home only because she'd been brought up

It was Linda's voice that calmly ordered: "Hotel Regal," but by that time, Margo felt she could have done the

same. Certainly this night could offer nothing in the way of nerveracking horror to compare with the creeps

So Margo thought, but both she and the night were comparatively young. She'd forgotten in her strain that

NIBLO KLEMMET, master of suavity, was beaming from behind the bulletproof show cases that stood at

the end of the Petite Room. The name of the room was deceiving; it was small only in relation to the others in

The show cases weren't why Niblo beamed. They only contained crown jewels. What attracted Niblo was the

parade of gemencrusted mannequins, all borrowed for the occasion, like the jewels. When it came to putting

up a milliondollar front, Niblo supplied nothing and let someone else provide the difference.

People who owned crown jewels because they'd inherited them, always wanted to sell them, but never could

unless they let them be seen by a new crop of buyers who wanted to leave them to heirs who would try to sell

Crown jewels were worse than a drug on the market; they were a drug looking for a market.

Just advertise crown jewels on display and persons with saleable gems would want to exhibit theirs. It was

easy to convince them that flesh was a better background than plush. To find the flesh, you went to the

fashion makers who couldn't resist the temptation of bejewelling the models who showed the latest gowns.

Niblo's only rule was: the longer the jewels the shorter the gowns, which also suited the scheme of things,

since the cost of feminine evening wear ran in direct opposite to the amount of material.

The beaming gentleman named Niblo thought that he had done a right good job on this occasion until he saw

the blonde creation styled Linda Brock. Her blue cutaway so outdared the professionals that Niblo felt this

amateur would steal the show. A few meek aquamarines in the form of bracelets and earrings were lost in all

Immediately polite but brawny chaps who looked like the endmen of an adagio trio began to surround Linda

with bows and hand kisses. They stooped only from the waist, these henchmen of Niblo's, rather than reveal

Never before had such an assemblage of handsome thugs been gathered in one room, all with licenses for the

guns they carried. But Niblo was too much a gentleman to abuse the privilege and he expected his row of

Gracefully, Linda was snatched from Margo's company by courteous hands that ran her along an innocuous

gantlet into the little office behind the display cases, while Niblo waited long enough to curl a contemptuous

smile at two visitors who had been admitted only after vigorous protest; namely, Messrs. Sheffield Gilbin and

Having officially concluded a fiftythousanddollar deal with Jerome Claybourne, Sheff and Hippo were

entitled to such courtesy, though they had been forced to leave some of their guns outside. Along with those

guns, they'd left the men who carried them, a dozen misfits in hastily rented evening clothes, whose

acquaintance with society if any had been limited to brief terms as bouncers in some of the thirdrate

This didn't matter to Sheff and Hippo. If shooting started, they preferred that it should be in the broader

spaces of the lobby where their guns were parked in the keeping of their owners. What they wanted first was

a word or two with Niblo on the subject of investments, the sort recommended by Jerome Claybourne.

For sheer nerve, however, Niblo exceeded all expectations. The intended words were to concern the recent

activities of Linda Brock and both Sheff and Hippo were sure that Niblo would deny the very existence of the

blonde lady. Certainly, she should have arrived at the office through its private door, unless Sheff and Hippo

As Niblo bowed himself away from the crown jewels and into the office where Linda had so surprisingly

"The nerve of the guy," began Sheff. "Having the dame walk right past us and into the office! And we were

"She doesn't have the paper," argued Hippo. "That was a big bundle Craver took. She'd need a lot more

"How do we know Niblo didn't pick it up himself? The securities, I mean. Bringing the dame here could be a

"Kind of dumb for Niblo to try it," rejoined Hippo, speaking as though experienced in such matters. "Maybe

"Maybe you think so," retorted Sheff, "but I don't see it that way. Meanwhile let's look around and see who

For one thing, Cranston wasn't at the jewel show. Margo was finding that out while she waited for Linda to

return. It didn't occur to her that Linda, having stolen the show, was thinking about taking over what went

In his office, Niblo Klemmet was bringing more jewels from the safe, but there were none worthy of a find

like Linda Brock. Stepping to the door, Niblo gestured to one of his overhandsome stooges and the word

A few minutes later, the models entered the office and began shedding jewels on Niblo's desk while he

Minus several hundred thousand dollars' worth of glitter, the models filed through another door, where a

couple of Niblo's henchmen stood on guard. This back route led along a secluded corridor around to the main

Only Linda remained when Niblo closed the door. Politely, Niblo suggested that the blonde remove her own

few jewels and adorn herself with the choicest of the many. Linda complied willingly and her taste met

Diamonds and sapphires were her choice. The myriad tints of the diamonds blended with the gorgeous hue of

the deep blue stones, producing an increasing dazzle that gladdened Niblo's eye. She was made to order for

"You look good," admired Niblo. "With that blue gown of yours, you've turned into a sapphire dream."

"Sapphire?" There was a far away gaze in Linda's eyes, a sparkle that matched the blue glitter that formed an

The very word had a grip, for Linda repeated it softly, while Niblo stared, a trifle puzzled by the girl's

"Sapphire." Again the blue eyes sparkled. "Sapphire Springs blue like these the way Johnny said.

Niblo was no longer listening. He was looking Linda over, wondering what else she could carry in the way of

gems. The desk was a medley of brilliance, but in all its worth of precious stones, there were none that

befitted Linda, now that the sapphires had all been weeded. The green of emeralds, the red of rubies, would

A happy thought struck Niblo; with it, he produced a bunch of keys and turned to the door that led into the

"I know what will really top you off," Niblo told Linda. "A coronet from those crown jewels. There's one

that's all diamonds and sapphires, the perfect combination. Look yourself over" Niblo gestured to a full

Out through the main door, Niblo left it slightly ajar and that gave Margo her chance. Sheff and Hippo were

more interested in watching Niblo open one of the jewel cases, so Margo encountered no opposition when

she worked her way behind a fancy screen and gained a slanted view into the office.

From that angle, Margo saw Linda turning from a mirror and stepping back to the desk. Even the dazzle of

Linda's decorations didn't prevent Margo from observing the blonde's eager, almost greedy gaze. Those slim

hands of Linda's moved toward the desk like tiger's claws, ready to sink themselves into the gorgeous wealth

Then Linda paused, darting a look over one shoulder, toward a far door that Margo couldn't see. Evidently

she intended to leave by that exit and realized that she might be challenged, for suddenly Linda began to strip

rings from her fingers, bracelets from her wrists and fling them among the gems that heaped the desk.

Linda was racing against time and frantically. Earrings, pendant and necklace added their blue to the

increasing pile. Next she was stooping to remove a sapphire anklet, kicking her shoe off and on again in one

manoeuver. Entirely divested of jewels, Linda did a sleek glide to a corner of the office and came back with

exactly what she needed, a pair of light wraps that must have been left by two of the professional models.

One of the wraps was green. Linda spread it on the desk and shovelled the mass of gems into its folds,

bundling the whole hoard neatly. The other wrap was blue, Linda's own color, and therefore something that

she would logically carry. Draping the green bundle within the blue cloth, Linda placed the latter over her

Immediately, Margo decided to remedy that deficiency. She couldn't let Linda duplicate Johnny's folly of

outright thievery. Abandoning caution, Margo sprang through the door into the office, giving a low but sharp

There must have been a mirror in that corner door, for Margo saw the blonde's reflection as she turned. It was

an odd sight for Linda was reaching for the knob and apparently opening the door at the same time. Her

reflection gave a curious skid, as sudden as Linda's own whirl; then, a slender arm stretched toward a light

Only the dim light from the corridor and a similar glow from the doorway that Margo had entered, remained

Recognizing that Linda might stage the tigress act to protect the pelf that she had gathered, Margo decided to

beat her to the punch, or clawwork if preferred. Across the office, Margo met Linda in the dark and

immediately found herself in a whirling tangle with the bundled wrap the vortex.

There was a shriek from Linda as the bundle left her hands; then Margo lost her own grip on it. But with the

shriek, two men came bounding in from the corridor and grabbed for the writhing girls. Somehow, they

managed to concentrate on Margo, for Linda suddenly broke clear and dashed out through the corner

"There she goes!" gargled Margo, wrenching from an arm that encircled her neck. "She has the jewels with

Niblo's huskies took Margo's word for it. Together, they started after Linda, who by that time was lost around

a corner of the corridor. But Margo, blundering in the opposite direction, was immediately caught in a new

grip, supplied by Niblo in person, Coming from the Petite Room, Niblo couldn't tell a brunette from a blonde

"So you were trying to snatch the sparklers," growled Niblo. "I should have had more sense than to leave you

alone with all that stuff. All right, lady, I'll turn you over to the police. I'm operating legitimate, and anybody

Margo couldn't argue, not with Niblo throttling her. Suddenly sprawled in a chair, she lay there gasping,

while Niblo blundered to the light switch and found it. Staring first at the desk, seeing its sparkle gone, Niblo

"Say who are you?" Niblo took two steps forward, then clamped his hands on Margo's shoulders, giving

them a violent shake. "What is this? A coverup for the blonde who was just here?"

For answer, Margo managed to point to the floor. There, lost in the recent riot, lay the green bundle

containing the gems. Linda had carried away the blue without its precious contents, unwittingly of course.

Picking up the wrap, Niblo recognized its extra weight as he laid it on the desk. A moment later, he had

unfolded the green cloth and was recognizing the reclaimed gems. A broad smile was formed on Niblo's

"I'll take those," the voice said. "Careless of me to drop them, so I came back."

Turning with Niblo, Margo's eyes were equally startled at sight of Linda. The blonde was standing in the door

A gaze as cold and hard as the glittering revolver muzzle that pointed straight from Linda's hand!

She was a very different Linda from the halfbewildered girl who had suddenly become eager for somebody

Maybe the gun spelled the difference. It did with a lot of people, as Margo knew too well. There was just one

thing to do when someone meant business with a gun. That was to sit tight and do nothing.

Niblo saw it too, and remained motionless, his hands stiffly raised. Paying no heed to Margo, Linda stepped

to the desk, coolly wrapped the green bundle onehanded and tucked it under her arm. Then, stepping

"Don't try to follow me." Linda's tone was low but sharp. "Those other fools were lucky. They're still looking

for me and if they find me" she gestured with the gun "they'll get what you'll get if you even budge."

This was meant for Margo as well as Niblo, for both were staring straight at Linda. But Margo from her chair

was noting something strange, the curious blackness that actually enveloped Linda's form. For a moment,

Margo thought that some one must have turned out the corridor lights; then, involuntarily, Margo gave a glad

There was a savage gesture of Linda's gun, but it was too late. Blackness in the shape of a cloaked arm had

encircled her; a gloved fist was tightening around Linda's wrist. Twisted half aside, gun and all, the blonde's

The cloaked invader held no gun. Instead, his other hand was reaching for the green bundle that Linda

carried. Only The Shadow's eyes were visible beneath his hat brim, burning eyes that seemed to be judging

From the gape on Niblo's face, the tremble of his lifted hands, it was plain that he feared The Shadow and

therewith branded himself a crook. Only a man with an unsavory past could have quivered at the arrival of

Nevertheless, The Shadow's scales tipped in Niblo's favor. Margo knew it from the whispered laugh she

heard; for the mirth was indulgent, though Niblo didn't recognize it. All the while, The Shadow's clamping

arm was suppressing the struggles of a savage but helpless blonde. In The Shadow's expert grip, Linda

A good lesson for Niblo, this. It was teaching him that crime couldn't pay, not when The Shadow was around.

If Niblo's present business happened to be a front for something illegitimate, he would do well to forget it.

Before The Shadow could announce his next intention, there were sudden shouts from the doorway of the

Petite Room. Bolting straight into the office came Sheff and Hippo, guns looming from their fists. The shouts

were from in back of them, furnished by Niblo's tribe of armed stooges who resented this sudden invasion of

But neither Sheff nor Hippo was thinking of those shouts. Not when they saw The Shadow.

Intent upon a showdown with Niblo, these unworthies transferred their attention to The Shadow. It was a

chance of a lifetime to make this The Shadow's deathtime. They were equipped for action, this pair of

thinlymasked crooks who wouldn't stop at mere murder that promised a clear track for their schemes of

With a blonde in one hand and a bundle of jewels in the other, The Shadow was definitely short on suitable

weapons to meet this surprise attack. He wasn't lacking in speed, however, as he flung both burdens and took

Margo saw Linda fly headlong into the corridor, with the green bundle scaling after her, thanks to a vagary of

The Shadow's quick spin. Then Linda and the jewels simply didn't count, compared to the pressure of The

Guns swung to follow The Shadow's dive, their spurts only a trifle late. Sheff and Hippo weren't the best of

marksmen, otherwise The Shadow's case would have been settled in that first volley. As it was, The Shadow

was coming up with an unexpected bound, bringing a brace of big automatics from beneath his cloak, ready

It was Niblo who intervened. He was the same breed as the others, but with a thicker mask. Whipping out a

gun of his own, Niblo aimed point blank for The Shadow before Margo could grab his gunhand.

Fortunately, Margo's shriek told all. The Shadow's sidefade came just ahead of Niblo's rapid shots.

Sheff meant the door through which The Shadow had pitched Linda, though there was no longer any sign of

the girl in blue nor the prized green bundle. The quickthinking blonde hadn't waited to congratulate herself

on the luck that had tossed the load of jewels out of circulation with her. With The Shadow otherwise

engaged, she had grabbed the wealth that even Niblo had forgotten and was on her way again, this time for

The Shadow didn't follow. At Sheff's shout about the door, The Shadow kicked it shut and let his attackers

riddle the woodwork with bullets that didn't count. Reversing his course, The Shadow cut across the office to

the other door, intending to whirl about and give his enemies a treat of lead pills in large doses.

There, however, The Shadow met new opposition in the form of Niblo's fancy gunners, coming in a flood.

Scattering them with hard swings from his automatics, The Shadow emerged from a confusion of spurting

At the main door he met the contingent belonging to Sheff and Hippo; met them headon.

Half a dozen guns stabbed simultaneously, all from what seemed pointblank range. How The Shadow could

have survived that fusillade was a question no one could ever satisfactorily answer, the cloaked survivor

included. Suffice it that The Shadow threw all his uncanny tactics into one composite effort. His spinning

lunge into the midst of that aiming crew, the long twisting sweeps of his clouting guns, the sudden upsurge of

his blackclad form which gave him the effect of a human billow all were saving elements.

The Shadow must have driven enough guns aside and avoided enough more to escape the really deadly shots.

But he was hit; he showed it as he writhed clear of the murderous pack to reel across the lobby. There, in the

really wide spaces, The Shadow had a long way to go, and the howling thugs who sought to overtake him

thought the kill was sure. But The Shadow on the eccentric, with both gunhands intact, was something

Marble pillars were stopping bullets intended for The Shadow, but his return jabs, though sparing in number

were timely in results. He fired only when it counted, using other measures to take out the gunners who

crowded him, such as bowling them over with potted palms, tripping them with sliding benches snatched

As he turned toward a winding stairway leading to a mezzanine, The Shadow fired a shot that missed, but

counted for two. He was aiming at one of Niblo's smoothies who in turning to dive away, crowded one of the

less polished gunzels belonging to the other mob. Each took it that the other had purposely spoiled his chance

Two guns blended their knifing flames and a pair of killers hit the tiled floor together. From the stairway

came a taunting laugh that carried a weird approval, as though commending a job well done. Chaos followed

despite the epithets of Niblo and Sheff who were now upon the scene. Each faction was turning on the other,

Niblo and Sheff rallied their men by firing personally at The Shadow as he raced along the mezzanine. After

a few mistaken casualties, both gun gangs were blasting anew at their original target, but The Shadow had

reached an angle where the numerous posts of the mezzanine rail deflected any and all shots that came his

What encouraged the frustrated gunners was the stagger that The Shadow gave as he disappeared through an

archway at the end of the mezzanine. It meant that they had really scored, perhaps more than they realized.

Surging for the stairs, they hoped to overtake their cloaked prey; when they reached an open window and saw

The Shadow reeling away through an alley outdoors, they didn't hesitate to follow. Their hope now was to

Then, from everywhere came sirens, splitting the night like a prearranged signal. Halting gunners started to

dodge away from brilliant spotlights that glared suddenly from patrol cars, only to receive encouraging

waves from the officers who manned them. An instant later, the full idea struck home.

It was midnight, the deadline that the law had allowed The Shadow. Commissioner Weston had made good

his threat to declare The Shadow the city's chief public enemy if Claybourne's stolen goods were not returned.

Finding that impossible, The Shadow had tried the next best thing; he had sought to forestall another crime

and take the credit that would square him. Frustrated in the rescue of the jewels, The Shadow had merely

stirred up chaos that marked his whereabouts. Now the word was "Get The Shadow!" and that meant

Well did Commissioner Weston know that minor frays might divert the manhunt for a marauder in black.

So his orders were specific: first bring in The Shadow, alive or dead; then ask questions regarding any and all

If human scum came out from hiding, if their guns blazed all over town, so much the better. They could be

rounded up and held to accounting later. This would be The Shadow's chance to really serve the law by

It was open season for The Shadow with no licenses required and no restriction as to measures used!

In his staggery dash for freedom, The Shadow was into a cab and out again, when he saw that patrol cars

blocked the only path. Shrevvy's cab, of course, and The Shadow abandoned it with a whispered order that

seemingly dismissed the faithful hackie forever. No use putting others on the spot that was to be The

Through alleys, in doorways, down gratings, up from cellars, The Shadow's mad search for freedom was as

amazing as it was futile. Never before had he revealed the limitless ingenuity of his peculiar skill at arriving

in the most unexpected places, but this time, escape was invariably blocked by fresh challengers.

There were simply too many other people in this limited neighborhood, and all had loaded guns, whereas The

Shadow's were almost empty. Unable to face fire, The Shadow was forced to keep up darting tactics, and

though his wounds didn't appear to slow him, he was tiring rapidly. What was more, the cordon had

tightened, forcing The Shadow to switch his flight from the horizontal to the vertical.

From a balcony window of the Hotel Regal, Margo Lane saw the tragic ending to it all. Shouts arose from the

street as The Shadow plopped suddenly into sight from a fourth floor window of an office building across the

way. He landed in sprawly fashion on the flat roof of an old three story house wedged between the office

Men were shooting from the street; others sniping from the windows of the Hotel Regal. They worried The

Shadow little; his real problem came from the office window from which he had dropped. There, guns

spurted toward The Shadow as he came to his feet, to jab back the last shots that his guns contained; one from

each weapon. Sidling as he made that last thrust, The Shadow reached an inner corner of the roof, a cutout

space which represented a blind alley extending in from the street in back. There he found his limit.

Before he could catch himself; even before training guns could find his range, The Shadow tripped and

disappeared with a frantic, armspreading dive into the depths of the blind alley. He looked like a great bat

Sirens wailed away as police cars, half a dozen of them, started around the block to reach the blind alley and

Other sirens were prolonging that incessant knell when Margo reached Cranston's apartment. They were like

the wails of banshees, driving Margo almost insane, those howls telling that the hunt was still on for a victim

In the apartment, Margo found Johnny, pouring himself a long drink from a bottle containing anything but

Sapphire Water. He must have gone out to get the bottle, but Margo didn't ask him where he'd been. She

simply didn't care, but Johnny did. The sirens were worrying him worse than Margo.

"They're after Linda!" gulped Johnny, gesturing jerkily toward the window. "That's who they want, Linda

"So your memory is back," accused Margo. "Or didn't you ever forget? You admit you know Linda's name!"

"Because she phoned me," returned Johnny, simply. "Called me up right here. I had sense enough to ask her

"Now, wait " Margo was trying hard to calculate "just when did that call come in?"

"Before all this started." Again, Johnny gestured to indicate the sirens. "Linda said she wanted me to meet her

in back of the Hotel Regal. She said she'd have something for me. I thought it was going to be Claybourne's

"But she must have been carrying something," persisted Margo. "For instance, a green wrap, folded like a

"A blue wrap," corrected Johnny. "Only it wasn't folded. She dropped it on the step getting into the car."

"The limousine. We saw it pulling away from the hotel right after the shooting started. So we waved and

It didn't quite make sense to Margo. Still, in a way that made sense in itself. In every episode during this

strange run of crime, there had been some tangle of facts that simply wouldn't fit.

"Listen, Margo." Johnny's tone, though thick, was definitely sincere. "We've got to get Linda away from New

"I know, but it all points to Linda. If I had to admit I gave her those securities, the police would believe me,

"Of course. She admitted everything. She had Claybourne's securities the other night and tonight she started

to get Klemmet's gems. But she can't remember what she did with them either of them."

Despite the tragedy that gripped her, Margo could rise to sarcasm where Linda was concerned. She was only

too anxious for another meeting with the troublemaking blonde whose urge toward kleptomania, whether

real or pretended, had sealed The Shadow's fate. Noting that her irony had escaped Johnny, Margo tried

"Suppose we do get her away," suggested Margo. "She could stay at my apartment until tomorrow "

"And I'll wait here," put in Johnny. "I'll tell Cranston all about it, when he gets back. He'll help us, too."

That reference brought a wince from Margo but it made her feel better toward Johnny. Then:

"Linda's memory is slipping worse than mine," declared Johnny. "When I met her, she didn't even remember

phoning me. She said she'd met you, so she must have done some analytical thinking to guess that your friend

Cranston would be looking after me. But why should she have forgotten the phone call?"

"I don't know." Margo spoke slowly as she stared from the window. "But where should we take Linda?"

"To Sapphire Springs," rejoined Johnny, promptly. "I need to go there to get off of this" he gestured to the

Margo heard the compliment as if from afar. More important and much closer, so she fancied, was the

honking sound from a taxi horn out front. It was Shrevvy's cab and Margo was leaping to the impossible hope

No one came. Only the horn continued its repeated signal, among the sirens that still wailed through the

"I'll see you later, Johnny," said Margo, as she turned from the window. "Don't worry about Linda. We'll find

Reaching the street, Margo fairly flung herself into the cab and received an encouraging though sober nod

from Shrevvy. They wheeled rapidly through the streets and as they reached Park Avenue, Shrevvy leaned

"I was parked in that blind alley," he told Margo. "That's why the chief chanced it. He grabbed for things like

shutters coming down, only they didn't stop him much. I tried to break his fall, only he hit the side of the cab

The cab stopped at the side entrance to the offices of Doctor Rupert Sayre, who like Shrevvy and certain

others, was a man who felt a permanent obligation to The Shadow. Such favors as saving a man's life were

part and parcel of The Shadow's activities, but there were some recipients who were never willing to forget it,

Entering a little room in back of Sayre's office, Margo found the physician beside a cot where a silent figure

lay motionless in the dim light. His cloak lying over him, The Shadow wasn't recognizable as anyone else and

Margo feared that the worst had happened. But Sayre's warning finger, lifting for quiet, allayed her qualms.

A radio was sounding low from the corner and suddenly, the newscaster's voice was interrupted by a

"He'll come around. Right now he wants to hear the news, but he's been waiting for your report too. So let's

Rapidly Margo gave it, emphasizing her own experience with Linda and Johnny's later testimony. How The

Shadow could possibly be fitting those befuddled facts, Margo couldn't even guess. He remained so

motionless that the fear that he was really dead kept cropping constantly in Margo's mind. This might just be

"I could talk Linda into going to Sapphire Springs," completed Margo. "If Johnny is right, she wouldn't

hesitate if I went along. But it's the first place the police would look for them "

Sayre interrupted along with the radio. The newscaster was back on the air, bringing the latest flash.

"Official statement from Commissioner Weston," announced the newscaster. "The hunt for the unknown

criminal called The Shadow will continue until he is found, alive or dead. Rewards totalling twentyfive

thousand dollars have already been offered for the securities and jewels which he has stolen.

"All other persons are now exonerated of these crimes, though they may be sought as material witnesses once

The Shadow is found. According to Jerome Claybourne, The Shadow was the real perpetrator of the robbery

at his home, just as Niblo Klemmet has testified regarding tonight's jewel seizure. This has been substantiated

by two reliable witnesses present on both occasions, Sheffield Gilbin and Artemus Borgand "

"Why, those crooks!" she exclaimed to Sayre. "Much though they hate each other, they've ganged up to frame

Sayre's hand warned for silence, but the news flash was over. Her tone subsiding to normal, Margo added:

"But it does help with Johnny and Linda," conceded Margo. "If they aren't around, the commissioner won't

bother looking for them, not yet at least. If I only knew what" Margo choked momentarily as she gazed

toward the silent, shrouded figure on the cot "what he intended or wanted, I could handle my part of it "

Margo halted as she noticed a slight stir from the cot. For the moment she thought it was her strained

Just two words, spoken in a sibilant whisper by that shape upon the cot. They were forced, those words, as

though even speech was an effort, yet they carried a note of command that made them a general order from

A delightful place, with its weave of olivegreen pine boughs between the clear azure sky and the deeper

blue of the gushing, healthgiving spring; delightful for everybody except Margo Lane, though now she was

Clad in immaculate summer whites, Margo stepped from the broad veranda, pausing only when she heard the

"You still need rest, Miss Lane. Remember your physician's instructions. Don't converse with any of the other

Taking a look at Agatha, Margo nodded. Agatha couldn't be anything but dumb, not with that flat,

expressionless face and monotonous, dreary manner. Sapphire Water certainly couldn't improve a person's

looks, not if Agatha represented a typical example. To Margo, Agatha's face was like a blank canvas that

needed an artist to paint it. Wonders could probably be done with such a basic background.

Strolling down to where the spring gushed, Margo was treated to another start when she saw Kirkwood. As a

sheer, dumb flatface, the man was Agatha's counterpart. In mechanical, zombi fashion, Kirkwood dipped

Margo a heaping glass of Sapphire Water and turned away. But as Margo drank the sparkling fluid, a sudden

Orders or no orders, Margo simply had to talk to Johnny and Linda, who were parked in beach chairs off

among the pines. Kirkwood was turned in the other direction; Agatha was no longer on the veranda.

Snatching the opportunity, Margo hurried toward the pines and as she reached their seclusion, she slackened

It wouldn't do to spring the surprise at once. Better to chat a while and then handle the subject casually, to

"You said this wasn't a sanitarium," began Linda. "You said we were guests, not patients; that Mr. Elder

"I'm not under Mr. Elder's orders," interrupted Margo, testily. "He's only obeying instructions that came from

my own physician, Doctor Sayre. If I'd known what was in Sayre's letter when I brought it, I'd have torn it

Margo really meant it. She'd come here confident that she could manage matters the way The Shadow

wanted, only to find that Sayre had overruled her. This was her third day at the Springs and the first that

"That I was suffering from delusions," returned Margo, "and shouldn't talk to anybody. I'm defying

restrictions right now. But what difference does it make? Whatever I say, nobody is supposed to believe me."

In light of her recent discovery, Margo should have realized the importance of Sayre's order and the

protection it afforded. However, she didn't credit Sayre with having The Shadow's insight into hidden facts.

And The Shadow, when Margo had last seen him, didn't seem in any condition to be using insight of his own.

"I've had delusions," declared Johnny, almost proudly. "Sapphire Water cures them. Have a glassload,

He poured a glass from a pitcher and Margo accepted it. Linda, calm again, was sipping from her own glass.

"It's so much sweeter, fresh from the spring," asserted Linda, referring to the water. "Don't you think so,

"I didn't at first," replied Johnny, "but the stuff did taste stale, sort of bitter, after I'd gone through a few

"Could be," agreed Linda. "I'll have to ask Mr. Elder. He's really so understanding, isn't he?"

Johnny gave a heartfelt nod at that one and Margo, tiring of Sapphire testimonials, decided to swing the

"What about your Cousin Janice?" Margo asked Linda. "Have you heard from her since we arrived here?"

"Not a word," replied Linda. "Do you know, I think Janice must have left, the night we went out together.

She probably mistook you for another relative who was taking on the family problem."

"You're no problem, Linda," laughed Johnny. "Sapphire Springs cures everybody and everything. If you don't

They looked and saw Kirkwood and two other attendants lifting something from a private ambulance that had

just driven into the driveway. The something proved to be a figure on a heavy stretcher, a very bulky figure,

"Must be an airplane victim," decided Johnny. "From that crash a few days ago. Remember, the one we read

"Does Sapphire Springs heal such patients?" asked Linda, in awe. Then, hastily correcting herself: "Does it

"No one has ever died here," replied Johnny, blandly. "That's why Noble J. Elder calls Sapphire Springs the

"I am sorry, Miss Lane." It was Agatha's drab voice that spoke in back of them. "I told you not to converse

Rebellious for the moment, Margo finally relaxed her fists, and went along with Agatha. As they neared the

spring, they were forced to pause as an attendant rolled a special wheel chair toward the lifegiving waters.

Kirkwood was back at his business of filling glasses and was just proffering one to a stooped man seated in a

folding chair. The stooped man gestured that he didn't want it and his hand indicated Margo, so Kirkwood

offered her the glass. Just to mollify Agatha, Margo decided to drink the Sapphire Water. but she was

interrupted by a moan from the man in the fulllength cast. Only his lips were visible, though there were slits

in the helmet top, so that his eyes could see out. He was begging for his first taste of Sapphire Water, so

Some jolt of the wheel chair must have been responsible for what happened. Instead of reaching the thirsty

lips, the glass struck the chin of the plaster cast and spilled. Falling from Margo's hand, the glass itself broke

on the rocky soil beside the spring. Annoyed, Agatha drew Margo away, while Kirkwood dipped a fresh glass

When she reached Elder's office, Margo was really ready to kick up a fuss, but she calmed when Elder rose

from his desk to meet her. There was something in his quiet voice, the kindly gaze of those clear eyes beneath

the shocky gray hair, that put a person in a listening mood before speaking to Noble J. Elder.

"Sit down, Miss Lane," invited Elder. Then, before Agatha could explain matters, he nodded that he

understood. "An infraction of rules, I believe. I am sorry, Miss Lane" he shook his head sadly "because,

It was as if Elder had taken all the blame upon himself and the sincerity of his manner utterly disarmed

"You are a guest, like all the others," assured Elder, "but you see Miss Lane, you voluntarily supplied orders

from your own physician. It is not our usual practice to accept guests who come as patients, but you were

well recommended" he gestured toward the window "like the much less fortunate individual who has just

Elder meant the pitiful human remnant in the plaster cast and Margo felt suddenly abashed that she should be

"We shall cure that man," announced Elder, in a tone of powerful conviction. "Like hundreds of others" he

gestured toward an oldfashioned safe in the corner "whose histories are among our permanent files. Yes,

the man in the plaster cast will walk out of here" Elder's voice rang with prophecy, then became low and

solemn, as he looked at Margo "as you can do right now, if you so desire. Shall I have Kirkwood order the

It was a question, but it came like an order of dismissal, given with deep regret. By then, Margo was feeling

even more an ingrate for having interrupted Johnny's eulogy of Noble J. Elder. This man of quiet,

understanding dignity was entitled to all that Johnny could have said and more. His captivating presence had

"I'd rather stay," she said, pleadingly. "Only how long a rest will this one have to be?"

"I shall phone Doctor Sayre this evening," promised Elder. "The verdict will be his, not mine."

Ten minutes later, Margo was tucked in bed in her quiet, secluded room, where Agatha had lowered the shade

so that the rest cure could begin. More than that, in leaving, Agatha had taken Margo's clothes along, so that

Along with her own stupidity, Margo was discrediting Doctor Sayre for these silly orders that had put her out

of circulation. It was annoying to think that everyone else, including the plaster cast arrival, could be

Margo wouldn't have thought so if she'd been there at that moment, particularly if she could have overheard

the words of the stooped man who had handed her the glass that the man in the plaster cast had later claimed

The stooped man was wearing big sun glasses that did much to disguise his face. The same was true of a

"There's one pill wasted," growled the stooped man. "Too bad the Lane dame didn't take that permanent

"Yeah," returned the big man. "Only it was lucky the guy in onepiece plaster of paris didn't get it, Sheff."

"I don't know." Sheff paused, speculatively. "He's most dead anyway. Only maybe that's a good reason to

Hippo's query was answered by a grin that appeared beneath Sheff's glasses, a grim merciless smile which

alone would have told Margo Lane that the quiet of a dark, secluded room was better far than the sunlit

SHEFF and Hippo weren't the only crooks at Sapphire Springs. The premises, woods included, were full of

them by the next afternoon. In fact the place was like two armed camps, intermingled. One band belonged to

Sheff Gilbin; the other to another paying guest named Niblo Klemmet, who for the past few days had been

"No sign of the Lane dame," said Sheff to Hippo, after a long stare through his sun glasses. "Guess she's still

"What about those other two?" queried Hippo, referred to Johnny and Linda. "Don't they rate a pill

"Be sensible," snorted Sheff. "What they know is something we may want to find out. I'd croak anybody but

"That's right," acknowledged Hippo. "Yeah, they were in on both jobs, of course. That means they're working

"You mean you fell for that stuff, Hippo? All I hope is that The Shadow crawled somewhere and died. He

never got those mitts of his on Claybourne's paper or those sparklers at the Hotel Regal."

"Right over there." Sheff nodded across the burbling expanse of Sapphire Springs. "Niblo Klemmet."

"Niblo didn't rob himself. All that flashy hardware at the Regal was borrowed stuff. The folks that owned it

"To contact the pair that worked both jobs; that guy Johnny and his blonde pal Linda. All the while we

"That's using the old noggin, Hippo." Sheff clapped his companion on the shoulders. "You've got it at last.

Niblo knows we're here watching for the handover; that's why he's playing possum while Johnny and Linda

Taking Sheff at his word, Hippo lumbered from his chair and started around the spring, mumbling apologies

when he stumbled into the special wheel chair and heard a groan from its plasterencased occupant. Arriving

"Since you want to know, I'll tell you," rumbled Hippo. "He says you knocked off Claybourne's joint and

"He shouldn't," agreed Niblo, "since he's lying in his usual form. I suppose he claims his stooges were

"Certainly. The handsome lad in the slacks and sport shirt; and the blonde cutey in the play suit. What are

"That's right. I never saw them before that night at the Regal and I didn't see Johnny then. He handled the

"By priming the pump with fifty grand," interrupted Niblo. "Was any of that dough Sheff's?"

"To what?" demanded Niblo, his suave tone turning savage. "Go on back and tell Sheff that if he doesn't quit

sullying this primeval wonderland with uncouth characters, I'll have my gentlemen knock them off, and

"Not a chance." Niblo chortled much in Sheff's style. "They know where the boodle is and they'll cough it

over when the time comes. The persons to be eliminated under the classification of uncouth are the alleged

gunzels that have been checking in here and trying to fraternize with my boys. Tell Sheff I can always

recognize one of his sharpshooters. They're all crosseyed; if you don't believe it, watch them at target

"Niblo is kind of sore," conceded Hippo, "but he can't be feeling too bad, the way he kidded me."

That wasn't enough for Sheff. He wanted details and Hippo gave them in full. They were more than sufficient

"You call that kidding?" Sheff demanded. "All right, if Niblo wants it that way, he can have it. Knock them

off sudden? That's our way, too: sudden and neat. We'll show Niblo a real process of elimination and let

"He runs this as a health joint, doesn't he? If customers die, so does the place. Here" Sheff eased a bottle

from his pocket and slid it to Hippo. "Distribute these among the boys. Tell them their new friends will get a

"Only don't give any to Shebley," reminded Sheff. "He's staying off by himself, like I told him, so Linda

won't be spotting him. Anyway, I'm not too sure of Shebley. He may belong to Niblo."

Hippo nodded as though he agreed. Sheff's persuasive policy was nullifying Niblo's brief arguments. Looking

from across the pool, Niblo was becoming quite convinced of that fact. He raised his hand and waved toward

the pool as if to attract Kirkwood's attention and have him bring some Sapphire Water. But there were others

Later peculiar things began to happen. Certain of the many guests who thronged Sapphire Springs began to

stroll about and make new friends. It was odd that those who looked the least like gentlemen should become

very courteous about offering glasses of Sapphire Water to others who seemed much more polished. They

were subtle about it, always proffering drinks to a man who was just about to go indoors.

Not to be outdone, the men of more gentlemanly bearing showed their own brand of courtesy. Those who

weren't going indoors suggested walks about the premises, visits to the sunken gardens and beauty spots deep

in the pine woods. It was all very nice and lovely, even though it did come under the head of murder.

Noble J. Elder became aware of things at dusk, when the guests were going into dinner. There were vacant

chairs this evening, more than there should have been, considering the increase in guests. Looking out from

his office window, Elder saw that there was only one person still seated at the spring, the frozen man in the

As the door opened, Elder turned to meet Agatha, who was followed closely by Kirkwood. He motioned for

"Four." There wasn't a change in the woman's fixed expression. "All in their rooms."

"Good," decided Elder. "We can remove them first. Now, Kirkwood, what about these others?"

"We've found three so far," replied Kirkwood. He, too, was unmoved; his words came in a monotone. "One

appears to have stumbled into the pool in the sunken garden; another fell off the big ledge; the third "

"Never mind," interposed Elder. "Accidents are not supposed to happen at Sapphire Springs. Wherever they

Darkness settled over Sapphire Springs; thick gloom, broken only by occasional gleams of flashlights that

blinked off furtively and suddenly. They might have been mistaken for fireflies by anyone who saw them.

Above the gushing spring, the pine trees murmured in the breeze and in that setting, the rising wind took on

Singular, that tone. It was reminiscent of The Shadow, that weird being who was so often first on hand at

ONLY one man watched the departure of the morning truck when it left with its shipment of bottled Sapphire

Water, for shipment throughout the country. That man was Shebley, the rather furtive guest who was staying

What bothered Shebley was the size of the boxes that he saw on board the truck. Usually Sapphire Water was

shipped in small open cases; these bottles were large and solid. Nobody else noticed them, with the possible

exception of the patient in the plaster cast, whose eyes were turned straight toward the road that the truck

All during the day, Shebley worried more and more. He stared nervously at the empty chairs which he saw at

lunchtime. He became suspicious whenever guests who were about to start indoors paused to accept a glass

of the sapphire elixir. When little groups of men decided to go for a stroll, Shebley sneaked after them; later,

By late afternoon, Margo Lane had formed a few conclusions. She was beginning to find the rest cure foolish,

so she had raised the window shade and was studying the scenery, ready at any moment to slide back into bed

if she heard Agatha's footfalls. From the window, Margo could see the bottling works and she couldn't

At odd intervals, men arrived with heavy boxes, sometimes coming from the big guest house itself; yet often

approaching from odd paths. Always with those boxes, which weren't the shape of coffins, yet which made

Margo think in such terms. Perhaps it was the expressions of the men who carried those boxes for they all

He was peering from the corner of the big building, the man that Margo recognized as Linda's chauffeur, and

the horror that distorted his face as he watched a box go into the bottling works, was more graphic than all of

Margo's guesses. Suddenly shaky, Margo started back to bed and steadied to pour herself a drink of Sapphire

As Margo gripped the bottle, she gained a sudden grip on herself. Pouring what was left of the contents,

Margo clutched the bottle by the neck and weighed it in terms of a club, while a sweet smile spread across

It wouldn't be long before Agatha would arrive with Margo's supper on a tray and that tray would be the

In his office, Noble J. Elder sat quite unruffled by the reports that the day was bringing. It was almost by

chance that he happened to glance from the window and notice a frantic man who was approaching the more

respectable guests, to tell them something that seemed to alarm them. Recognizing the man as a doubtful

By the time he reached the spring, Elder found Shebley already there. The fellow was shouting hoarsely and

"They're dying, I tell you! Dying like flies! I've seen a dozen of them and more!"

Elder pressed his way through a startled group of guests and addressed Shebley in his firmest tone:

"Your guests!" Shebley was too overwrought to be impressed by Elder's presence. "Count them if you don't

"The poor man is deluded," said Elder. "He must rest and be cured, as all are here."

Kirkwood was dipping a glass of Sapphire Water from the spring. He passed it to the nearest person,

gesturing to send it along to Shebley. It went from hand to hand, including those of Sheff and Hippo.

"Drink this," said Elder, quietly. "Then tell me what you said before, only please talk calmly. The cure for

The persuasive tone was taking effect. With a nod, Shebley drank the water then laid the glass aside. He

"I saw them die, indoors and out," said Shebley. "Maybe you don't understand it either, Mr. Elder, but I've got

For answer, Shebley flung his hands to his throat, tossed his head back with a hideous gurgle, and slumped in

Confusion broke loose among the guests, but Elder was equal to the occasion. He gestured to Kirkwood and

another attendant; they gathered up Shebley's body to take it into the building. Meanwhile, Elder, his hands

"The man is merely an epileptic," declared Elder. "I know the symptoms and I know the treatment. Go into

the dining room and wait there. I shall soon have this man as well as ever, prepared to testify that all he told

It wasn't all imagination to Linda, who was standing near, gripping Johnny's arm. As other guests obediently

"I know," nodded Johnny. "There's something queer here, Linda. Something we're going to find out about,

Two other persons were speaking in terms of Shebley as they rose from their chairs. Removing his sun

"Two of them," acknowledged Hippo, "because I wanted quick action. But I didn't know it would be that

"It wouldn't have," returned Sheff, "if I hadn't dropped two pills myself, working along the same idea.

Hippo's big hand was gripping Sheff's arm hard, as Hippo pointed with the other.

"And there goes Niblo," reminded Sheff, with a side nudge of his hand. "Remember what I told you, Hippo?"

Remembering, Hippo nodded; but still he wasn't sure. This could be a trick of Sheff's, according to Niblo's

argument of the day before. Hippo had been thinking all that over and right now, he recognized that Sheff's

comment could be taken two ways. If Johnny and Linda had been working with Sheff instead of Niblo, it

One thing was certain: Johnny and Linda were bound straight for Elder's office, whereas Sheff and Niblo

were making detours to round up members of their respective mobs. For the first time, each of the rival

crooks was about to learn of the heavy mortality among his own henchmen, for both had been thinking only

It was to be a big surprise for both, but nothing like the one that awaited Johnny and Linda. When they

reached Elder's office and knocked there, his quiet voice told them to wait just a few minutes; then, suddenly

"I was right," declared Elder. "The man's recovery was rapid. Here he stands, with his delusions gone."

With a gesture, Elder indicated Shebley who was standing by the desk. His face looked pale in the light, but

"It's impossible!" exclaimed Johnny. "Why, there wasn't an ounce of life left in him."

"I feel alive enough," spoke Shebley, slowly, "and my mind has cleared completely." He placed his hand to

"If you remember everything," remarked Linda, coolly, "where did you go on your last night off?"

For answer, Shebley stared as though his mind had become as clouded as before. Elder immediately took up

"You both should realize that," declared Elder, looking from Johnny to Linda. "Memory has been your worst

Those interrupting words were spoken by lips from the doorway. Lips only, for they belonged to the man in

the plaster cast, whose other features were totally obscured. Like some monstrous creature from an unknown

world he had clumped unaided from the spring and was now the master of the coming show.

He proved that when he gave a gesture of his bulking arms, striking his enormous hands against the sides of

the doorway. Plaster broke apart from the wrists down, revealing a pair of gloved fists, human size, each

Then, from the lips within the plaster rims came a chilling laugh that fully identified the occupant of the

Slow, ominous were the strides of the massive figure in white that represented The Shadow in his newest and

strangest guise. Like a great Golem, he excited awe by his very manner, though always his guns were trained,

one upon the staring figure of Elder, the other upon the revived form of Shebley.

If Shebley had just returned from the dead at Elder's behest, the fellow was unwilling to risk another trip to

Only when The Shadow reached an angle where those two were in a direct line did he relax one gun. At that

moment, the plaster cast figure was at the door of the only closet in the room. Opening the door with the hand

that held his lowered gun, The Shadow clumped aside to let a form come sprawling out.

The thing that toppled was a dead man. As the body struck the floor and rolled stiffly into the light, Johnny

A grotesquely whimsical laugh came from The Shadow's lips as Johnny and Linda turned their astonished

eyes upon the other Shebley who stood by Elder's desk. When checked with the original, the living Shebley

showed himself a counterfeit, his makeup good, but too hastily done to stand the comparison.

"Remove your wrong face, Kirkwood." The Shadow's tone carried command. "It worked well before, but

Smearing away the makeup, Kirkwood disclosed his own drab face. Glumly, he stared at Shebley, as though

"You were an excellent Johnny," declared The Shadow, "but you had more time to study that part. Besides,

Like a flash, Johnny saw the whole answer. Those times when he couldn't account for his own whereabouts

were explained. The phone call from Claybourne's that he couldn't remember; the alleged meeting on the

corner near Penn Station when Linda had publicly taken him into the limousine; those were cases when

That answer struck home to Linda, too, and she suddenly realized that she had been similarly victimized. She

hadn't met Johnny near Penn Station, nor could she remember returning to reclaim the jewels at the Hotel

"Then someone was doubling for me!" Linda exclaimed. "I know the woman who called herself Cousin

Janice. Why that's why I saw myself in mirrors that weren't there. She was looking at me through the frames,

The Shadow's sibilant laugh certified Linda's discovery. It also inspired Johnny to guess and correctly the

The door was opening as Johnny spoke the name. On the threshold stood Agatha in the drab garb that she

wore at Sapphire Springs. But her face wasn't the plain, blankfeatured visage that could be made into any

"I'm my own self," she told Johnny hastily. "I just gave Agatha a slug from a Sapphire bottle and you know

the kind of slug I mean. I needed her apparel, such as it is. I tucked her in bed for a nice long rest. Those blue

Staring past Johnny, Margo was studying The Shadow and realizing that only he would have staged the

unique act of arriving in a plaster cast which he probably had needed for a few days after his fall from the

Manhattan housetop. She understood now that it must have been his order, not Sayre's, that had so wisely

Shebley's body was mute testimony of what might have happened to Margo if she'd drunk the glass of

Sapphire Water that had been handed her at the spring. The man in the plaster cast must have seen the pill

that Sheff dropped in it and had therefore supplied more than an accidental jolt to dispose of the glass.

But there was something more that Margo wanted to tell. She dished it straight to Kirkwood.

"I recognized you and Agatha when she arrived at Penn Station," announced Margo. "Just after Johnny had

seen you off. Remember? Only I didn't know who either of you were until I arrived here.

"As for Agatha playing your part" this was to Linda "I should have known it when I saw her coming in

the back door of Niblo's office. I thought it was a reflection, only there wasn't any mirror there, no more than

This brought a nod from Linda, though she looked rather dazed when she tried to recall the events at the

Hotel Regal which had resulted in a three way tangle after Agatha not Linda had turned off the lights.

"You gave it away yourself, Elder," declared The Shadow, "the time you phoned New York and said that

Kirkwood was back, although his train couldn't have arrived that soon. As for your bottled water, you

supplied a special brand for Johnny and Linda when you were using them as dupes."

"It was doped," he admitted. "I had Johnny well in hand, with the suggestions I had given him. Linda was an

"I'd had a lot of letters from her relatives, so I decided to prey on her weakness when I learned that others

were already trying it. It was easy enough for Agatha to handle when she reached New York. But the dope

"I'm telling you this" Elder was trying to put real sincerity in his tone "to prove that murder had no part in

For answer, The Shadow extended one of his bulky arms and gestured a gun toward Shebley's body.

"This wouldn't stand you well in court," The Shadow told Elder. "Suppose you open your safe, Elder, and

show us what your files really are. Perhaps a complete confession will encourage a few witnesses to help you

It was Elder's only course, so he took it. Opening the old safe, he stepped back so The Shadow and the others

could see its contents. There in neat stacks were Claybourne's securities, brought by Kirkwood; while the

stolen jewels, heaped in a great glittering pile, represented Agatha's contribution to the cause of Sapphire

There were other bundles in the safe and as Elder mopped his forehead, he admitted what they were. Facing

"It was my regular game, robbery. Kirkwood and Agatha helped me before. But these were my first large

operations. I was a fool to go so far with them. But I swear that I was never a man to deal in murder."

They were coming suddenly into Elder's office, Sheff and Niblo, their drawn guns turned toward each other

in mutual mistrust. Behind them was Hippo followed by a handful of killers who represented both factions

and who were finding out to their mutual surprise how few of their own breed were left.

These were the men who had turned the Fountain of Life into a Fountain of Death, only to have Noble Elder

cover up their crimes so that he, the real brain behind large scale crime, could preserve the reputation of

Now Sheff and Niblo, like their followers, were suddenly learning all. They were on the threshold of the very

wealth which each suspected the other of having snatched at his own expense. Here, with guns in hand, they

had boxed not only Elder but some helpless witnesses to his crimes, all unarmed.

The bulky form in white was already tramping toward the doorway to block these murderous entrants. Block

them The Shadow did, for his plaster cast shape was broad enough to fill the doorway. But his two guns,

Heroic of The Shadow, this valiant effort, but the sort that couldn't win. Before his guns could speak,

revolvers sounded the first roar of a volley that was intended to blast the clumsy fighter right out of his thick

The huge form reeled under the pound of leaden slugs, but his own guns stabbed in answer and didn't stop.

The plaster was flying, but all the while two automatics were knifing into the midst of the combined crew that

The Shadow had bullets enough for all. It was with an eye to this final, inevitable fray, that he had let Sheff

and Niblo thin each other's ranks since yesterday afternoon. They had chopped their mobs to the proper size

It wasn't mere plaster that contained The Shadow. He was wearing the molds about which the stuff was

formed, steel tubings, articulated to fit his limbs and body, with an overall helmet of the same metal covering

his head. This feature of The Shadow's ingenious garb disclosed itself as the powdery cloud of whiteness

There stood The Shadow, bulletproof. He couldn't have afforded too much denting, nor taken too many

bullets at the joints of the flexible armor, but the shots that reached him were comparatively few. With his

Sheff and Niblo had sagged. Hippo and a few others were reeling wounded from the vicinity of this amazing

avenger that they couldn't kill. Their guns were falling from their loosening hands, they were staggering in

total panic as they heard the triumph of The Shadow's strange, sardonic laugh following them along the

Brought by the sound of shooting, the bolder of Elder's legitimate guests were piling upon the faltering

marauders who had braved The Shadow's wrath and found themselves inadequate to cope with it.

From the doorway of Elder's office came repeated clangs as The Shadow unhooked the catches of the hinged

cylinders that encircled him. From a great hulk of white plaster, he had shrunk to a smaller but more

formidable creature of steel; now, divested of that modern armor, he seemed to flow into his accustomed

shape. His black cloak streaming from his shoulders, the brim of his slouch hat spreading down above his

eyes, The Shadow became more formidable, more weird than in any of his rapid changes.

The Shadow's gloved fists planted the pair of automatics in Johnny's hands, as he stated that there were still

some shots in them, should Elder or Kirkwood offer trouble, though neither was so inclined. Cowering

beyond the desk, that pair were only too ready to give themselves up to the law, now that Elder's great, mad

Margo and Linda were watching in awed silence as The Shadow swung wide a broad French window and

blended with the deepening darkness of the settling night. The cloaked shape was vaguely visible until it was

Moments passed, long lingering moments before the arrival of the guests who were to learn the truth about

Noble J. Elder and his career of duplicity. Those moments were almost gone when from the murmur of the

whispering pines and the gurgle of the everflowing spring came back an eerie, untraceable laugh that

drowned those other sounds and left them dwindled and forgotten, even when the mirth itself had shivered

Such was the token of The Shadow's triumph, his farewell to the Fountain of Death!