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

CHAPTER I. COUNTERFEIT CURRENCY .........................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. COVERED CRIME.........................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. NOTHING FROM NOTHING .....................................................................................10

CHAPTER IV. ALONG THE ROUTE .................................................................................................14

CHAPTER V. A MATTER OF PROTECTION...................................................................................18

CHAPTER VI. GONE WITH THE DARK..........................................................................................21

CHAPTER VII. THE SHOT FROM THE DARK................................................................................24

CHAPTER VIII. NIGHT FLIGHT ........................................................................................................29

CHAPTER IX. CRIME'S SEQUEL......................................................................................................33

CHAPTER X. THE SHADOW LEARNS .............................................................................................37

CHAPTER XI. AT GRAY HAVEN.....................................................................................................42

CHAPTER XII. TOO MANY TRAPPERS..........................................................................................47

CHAPTER XIII. THREAT OF VENGEANCE....................................................................................52

CHAPTER XIV. THE WAY FROM BELOW.....................................................................................56

CHAPTER XV. DEATH IN THE DARK .............................................................................................60

CHAPTER XVI. CHANGED STRATEGY ..........................................................................................64

CHAPTER XVII. CRIME'S CHOICE..................................................................................................68

CHAPTER XVIII. LAIR OF DOOM ....................................................................................................72

TED LINGLE stopped his rattletrap car in front of the brownstone house and glanced nervously along the

darkened street. He was glad that the streetlamps did not throw too much light upon his weatherbeaten car

Sliding from the car, Ted ascended the brownstone steps and rang the bell of the Kelwood mansion. He was

trying to be nonchalant, but he could not shake the impression that eyes were watching him from across the

"Sit tight, Bolo," one voice was saying. "It's only that guy Lingle. That dope that comes to see the Parnal

"Yeah?" queried the other. "Maybe you've got him wrong, Juke. He might be going in to gab with old

"Not a chance, Bolo! He's daffy over the doll, that's all. Curt Hulber says so."

There was a note of finality to the tone, as though anything Curt Hulber said must be right. In this case, the

opinion was correct. Ted Lingle was more than daffy over Isabel Parnal. He was madly in love with her.

This wasn't Ted's first visit to the mansion where Isabel lived with her guardian, Stephen Kelwood. But Ted,

as he stood on the doorstep, found that he was still nervous despite those previous visits. Being in New York,

calling on a wealthy girl who had promised to marry him, was something of an impossible dream to Ted

Ted himself was a smalltowner. He'd met Isabel the summer before at the farm where she was staying, and

had supposed that she came from a small town, too. Perhaps each should have recognized that the other was

from a different world, because of the very attraction that had drawn them together. But Ted hadn't realized

His first visit here, to the home of Stephen Kelwood, the banker, had awakened him, and since then Ted had

been traveling in a wideawake daze. He knew that Isabel really loved him; but, considering his own

Here, on the threshold of another meeting, Ted was almost ready to turn abruptly, dash down the steps, and

drive off in his ancient car, when the door of the mansion opened. Then, like a man in a trance, Ted was

The luxurious surroundings gripped Ted, as they had before. He heard the servant say something, but didn't

catch the words, nor think of them, until he looked to find that the flunky had gone. Then, noticing a light

from a curtained room on the right, Ted walked slowly in that direction, remembering that the room was the

At the doorway, Ted stopped. He saw two men seated in the library, engaged in serious conversation. One

was Stephen Kelwood, a grayhaired man with long, aristocratic features, rendered prominent by a

highbridged nose. The other was a swarthy man, whose bluff face had a dark mustache. Both were too

Nor did Ted stir farther, either to advance or retreat. His gaze was transfixed by a sight of something that lay

between Kelwood and the other man. On a low table, Ted saw money spread all about crisp, green dollar

bills by the hundreds. Even Kelwood's connection with the banking business did not seem sufficient to

"SO there you are, Marquette," Kelwood was saying in a serious tone. "Though I am no longer active as a

banker, I have continued my study of currency and can pride myself on my ability to detect counterfeits.

When I chanced across these" he plucked bills from the pile and flourished them "I thought that it was

Marquette gave a nod. Shifting in his chair, he reached to take the bills that Kelwood handled. Ted saw the

glint of a badge as Marquette's coat slid farther open, and suddenly realized that the swarthy man must be a

"I wouldn't have believed it," declared Marquette abruptly. "And frankly, Mr. Kelwood, after I left here the

other night I thought you were crazy. Even under a microscope those bills stood up."

"Except for the serial numbers," nodded Marquette. "Nine figures instead of eight. A perfect job, except for

"I think the mistake was intentional," he declared. "It prevented any duplication of numbers that are on

existing bills. Not one person in a thousand would bother to count the figures on a dollar bill, or notice

"Not one person in a million," returned Marquette grimly. "In fact, Mr. Kelwood, you're the only person in

the country who was smart enough to spot it. We've been missing it for a long time. A very tong time!"

"Too many! Look at all you've found out of this batch." Marquette indicated the table with a sweep of his

Marquette arose, nodding solemnly. For the first time Ted recognized his own position as an eavesdropper.

Then, thinking it too late to retreat, he started to step forward, hoping he could find proper words of apology.

"We've taken the first step," Marquette declared. "A tenthousanddollar reward for a real lead to these

counterfeiters. It's official, but we aren't making it public just yet. We don't want to throw a scare into the

"We'd have public confidence with us," inserted Marquette, "and the reward could go for any further

information. But we haven't much time to work. This thing can't be kept hushed for more than another week

By then Ted had gone into a retreat. He was back from the curtains, easing out into the hall, and the curious

thing was the sound that came from behind him, as though his own footsteps were creaking their way across

the floor. Suddenly conscious that his footsteps couldn't be moving faster than he was, Ted wheeled.

He found himself face to face with a sallow man whose eyes had an owlish look behind their roundrimmed

glasses. The man was baldish; his lips wore a smug smile beneath a small, tufty mustache.

Ted had met the fellow once before; his name was Therman, and he was Kelwood's secretary. Having

disliked Therman at first sight, Ted wasn't at all pleased to encounter him under the present circumstance.

Therman, however, looked pleased. His eyes narrowed as his lips straightened. Therman wasn't overlooking

the fact that he had caught Ted as an eavesdropper; he was simply putting it away for future reference. Then,

"Good evening, Mr. Lingle. I believe that Miss Parnal is waiting for you in the conservatory."

Half turning, Therman gestured across the great hall, and Ted went in that direction. He could hear voices

behind him, and was conscious that Kelwood and Marquette must have come from the library. Ted heard his

own name muttered in Therman's oily tone, knew that Kelwood must have asked the secretary who it was

TED was glad when he found the conservatory door. Then Isabel was stepping up to greet him, smiling at the

embarrassed look Ted gave her. She had observed before that Ted was uncomfortable in these surroundings,

but tonight Isabel did not know the full reason; nor did Ted enlighten her. Instead, he managed to clear away

They formed an attractive couple as they sat down together. Ted Lingle wasn't just handsome; his wavy hair

was more than matched by blue eyes that showed frankness, a square jaw denoting determination.

As for Isabel Parnal, her charm lay in the depth of her browneyed gaze and the gentle expression of her

Many men had admired Isabel as the perfect brunette type, but Ted's thoughts went deeper. He was thinking

"How soon we will be married?" queried Isabel sweetly. "As soon as you think best, Ted."

"It wasn't that," Ted confessed. "I was wondering about the small town where we will have to live. After all

"I liked the farm last summer," Isabel reminded him. "You must remember, too, that this isn't my home. I'd

"I'll have to get it first," declared Ted, soberly, "and my business isn't the sort that brings in money fast.

Putting cigarette machines in service stations, lunchrooms, and whatnot means a lot of work. It will take a

Isabel's words seemed to come from far away. Ted's thoughts, like his eyes, were fixed. He was staring at the

darkness of the windowpanes in the glasswalled conservatory and his mind was flashing back to something

Such was the reward arranged for the unearthing of the counterfeiters who were flooding the country with

spurious dollar bills, distinguishable by an extra figure in the serial numbers. By next week, thousands of

people would be seeking the source of that fraudulent currency unless, as Marquette hoped, results could be

Until this moment, Ted had thought only in terms of the Feds and the results that they might obtain. It was

striking home, very suddenly, that someone like himself might provide the needed lead. A long shot, but

considering Ted's type of business, there were chances in his favor. Getting around the way he did, he might

Out of the distance came the sound of the closing front door, and Ted knew that Marquette had gone. For the

moment, Ted was restless; then, realizing that his own quest could not begin until tomorrow, he turned to

"Perhaps we won't have long to wait," said Ted, in a tone of assurance. "I have an idea that may work out.

But don't ask me what it is, Isabel, because we'll both have to wait awhile before we know."

TED had forgotten the darkness that lay outside the conservatory windows. It did not occur to him that the

shrouding night was hiding the beginning of a trail that lay much closer than he thought. Ted might have

realized it had he remembered the impression of spying eyes outside the Kelwood mansion.

Those eyes, belonging to Juke and Bolo, were at that moment observing Marquette's departure. As the

swarthy Fed walked past Ted's parked car and gave it a sharp survey, Juke plucked Bolo's arm and lowtoned

By the time Marquette was halfway to the corner, the pair were upon his trail, shiftily dodging from sight

whenever they thought that the Fed was about to look back. It was easy enough, in their opinion, to follow a

Easy for two to follow one, but easier for one to follow two. Such was the experience of another figure that

emerged from darkness to take up the double trail of Juke and Bolo. For, in so emerging, the new trailer never

actually left the sheltering folds of night. His was a shape so fleeting, so elusive, that no one could have

Cloaked in black, a slouch hat upon his head, this newcomer moved like the shadow that he was. Foe to

crime, ever ready to aid those who served the law, he had somehow learned of Marquette's important mission

Whatever their link to crime, Juke and Bolo would soon provide the answer to this master of night, The

BLOCK by block, The Shadow was finding the trail more and more to his liking. It was becoming a game

wherein the element of protection lessened in necessity, thereby enabling The Shadow to keep well behind

the men ahead. For The Shadow, whenever he set out upon a trail, took full cognizance of all others involved,

The Shadow was well acquainted with the ability of Vic Marquette, the Fed who had unwittingly picked up a

pair of trailers. Though Marquette was strolling along casually, he had left the darkness of side streets and

There was very little reason to worry for Vic's safety on a welltraveled street. With shop windows to attract

him, Vic Marquette had a way of pausing to glance at panes that served as improvised mirrors.

Whether habit or suspicion was responsible for Marquette's action, his system brought results. The two men

trailing him were forced to remain well behind, even to the point of seeking lurkingspots in doorways for

fear that Vic would see them. Moreover, Marquette worried them so much that they became easy for The

At moments when the blackcloaked trailer closedin upon the men ahead, The Shadow was so close that

Had The Shadow chosen to throw consternation into the crooks, he could have done so. But it happened that

he was more anxious to learn the reason why these denizens of crimeland had not only wandered far from

their usual terrain, but were taking on the audacious task of tailing an operative of the Secret Service.

Juke and Bolo provided the answer as they crouched in a doorway. Their hoarse whispers reached The

Shadow, who had paused in the darkness just outside, so flattened against the wall that his cloaked form

"How about me sliding across the street?" suggested Bolo. "Then we can take turns picking up, whichever

"Not a chance," returned Juke. "The Feds were the guys that started using that dodge. He'd get hep quick."

"But Curt Hulber said not to lose him," reminded Bolo. "How are you going to answer that one?"

Juke answered it in preliminary fashion, with a quick hiss that meant to sneak along to another doorway

before Marquette could slip them entirely. The two crooks made a quick shift and a rapid scramble,

whereupon The Shadow glided past the doorway that they had left, up to the new one that they had chosen.

"Maybe he ain't wise," remarked Juke. "Anyway, I'm the guy to find out, one way or the other. You know the

The Shadow knew, even though the statement was not addressed to him. He had recognized Juke as an

underworld character and remembered the fellow's specialty. As a snooper, Juke had a high reputation in low

society. Alone, Juke could probably trail Marquette much better than when handicapped with Bolo as a

Bolo must have known it, too, and did not like the implication. His undertone came in a growl.

"So you're going to trail him, huh?" queried. Bolo. "For what? Suppose you catch up with him, Juke. What'll

By "this," Bolo referred to a knife that came gleaming from his hip. It was a widebladed weapon, a savage

contrivance. It was a Filipino bolo, which could hack as well as carve. Preference for such a knife was the

Moreover, use of such a blade made Bolo more than dangerous. It rendered him of special value to such

employers as Curt Hulber, who was a racketeer of considerable importance. When Bolo finished with

victims, they might have been hit with anything from a sledgehammer down, judging from appearances.

But it seemed that Juke wasn't interested in Bolo's skill as a killer; at least not in the present case.

"Curt didn't say to start croaking Feds," argued Juke. "He sent you along just in case I got in a jam. I'll find

"Pipe a call to Curt," replied Juke. "Tell him we spotted Marquette at Kelwood's again. I'll join up with Curt

THE next door was that of a cigar store, which happened to be open. Marquette was turning the corner, so

Juke gestured Bolo into the cigar store, then continued on the Fed's trail. Knowing that Marquette wouldn't be

Coming from the cigar store, Bolo gave a glance along the street without noticing The Shadow. Turning on

his heel, the uglyfaced killer started across the avenue and took to a side street. His stride was rapid,

indicating that he had considerable distance to walk, but because of his haste Bolo gave no thought to

With a glide that matched smoothness with speed, The Shadow kept close behind, blending with darkened

house walls like a slice of night adrift. This course promised The Shadow results that could prove prompt as

Crime was in the air. The Shadow had known it ever since he learned that Vic Marquette had arrived in

Manhattan. Unfortunately, news of Vic's advent hadn't reached The Shadow until after the Fed's first visit to

Tonight The Shadow had trailed Marquette to the place where crooks were already posted, which was how

The Shadow knew Stephen Kelwood by reputation. A man of longstanding in banking circles, Kelwood

made a specialty of handling estates and trust funds. Such work did not overtax him, and Kelwood had

therefore found time for heavy research into the subject which so greatly interested him the history of the

Few men were better posted on the subject than Stephen Kelwood. His collection of old currency issues was

one of the largest in the United States. Frequently Kelwood made headlines by discovering freak forms of

But Marquette's interest in monetary issues was of a more timely sort. His specialty was looking into spurious

It was obvious to The Shadow that Marquette could only have visited Kelwood because the latter had

discovered something amiss with notes now in circulation. This meant that a counterfeiting ring was probably

operating in high gear, and the presence of lookouts like Juke and Bolo pointed directly to the fact.

As for Curt Hulber, the man that the two crooks had mentioned, he was just the sort who might be "shoving

Long absent from New York because of his unpopularity with the police, Curt wouldn't have returned unless

something big had brought him. From all appearances, Curt was handling something very much bigger than

anything that he had previously undertaken. All that The Shadow wanted was a lead to Curt Hulber, and

The trail came to a sudden end on a side street near an avenue. Bolo stopped in front of a door that bore the

Peering through the broad front window, The Shadow saw huge travel posters, pictures of steamships, and

racks of travel circulars. Off past a counter, he spied huddly figures, Bolo among them, as they moved toward

Trying the door, The Shadow found it locked, but opening it was simple. Sheltered in the darkness of the

doorway, he used tiny picks and keys with adept precision, and soon effected an entry of his own. His figure

wasn't noticeable in the main room, for he kept close to the walls, reaching the inner door by a circuitous

There at the end of a narrow passage, The Shadow found a door leading into a lighted office. The light

showed because the door was ajar so that the men inside could hear others knock as Bolo had. Probably they

were waiting for Juke, and since that thug was still trailing Marquette to the hotel where the Fed was

stopping, The Shadow had a safe interim, during which he could look into the conference.

CLOSE to the inner door, The Shadow's cloaked figure seemed like the blackness of the passage. The burn of

his keen eyes was wellshielded by the brim of his slouch hat. Viewing the office, he saw half a dozen men,

Lacking enough chairs, some were seated on desks, while others had chosen stacks of heavywrapped

bundles as slouching places. Of the group, but one man was important. He was seated in a chair behind the

He looked the part that he was playing as head of the travel bureau. Heavyset, steady of eye and square of

jaw, Hulber had an air of confidence; yet with it an affable manner. At intervals he stroked back his sleek

black hair and gave a pleasant smile, as though dealing with customers across the counter instead of crooks in

the back room. But behind that pose lay hardness that did not escape The Shadow's observation. Curt was

listening to Bolo's description of the vigil outside Kelwood's, and the details or lack of them did not

please him. However, Curt's smile was all the more noticeable when Bolo finished. It was when the big shot

spoke that his true feelings first impressed themselves upon the gathered crooks.

"So you learned nothing!" Curt addressed his sarcastic words to Bolo. "I suppose that you think I put you

"Well, no. He said he'd follow Marquette himself. Back to the hotel, I guess. Maybe he'll pick up something

"Very likely," sneered Curt, rising behind the desk. "They'll probably invite Juke in to have a drink with them

and then get chummy! No" Curt shook his head doubtfully "I guess not. When you two were hiding in

doorways, you should have picked a hockshop. If you'd cracked the window you could have swiped a couple

The sarcasm began to tell on Bolo. He winced at the grins of the others. Glaring at his listeners, then at Curt

"What could we have done?" he demanded. "Try and crash the gate at Kelwood's? Or bust some of the

windows in that hothouse porch where the Parnal dame was waiting for her boyfriend, Lingle?"

"You might have had a looksee into the place," returned Curt. "That's why I sent you along to cover Juke

if he had trouble with the flunkies. Still" Curt's tone was easier "it doesn't matter. You've found out all I

Bolo stared, puzzled, as did some of the rest. Curt gestured to the packages on which mobsters were seated.

"Clear the stuff out," he said. "This racket is finished. We're through shoving the queer for awhile."

"Old Kelwood has spotted the phony mazuma," Curt declared. "He wouldn't be sending for Marquette if he

hadn't. That old crab knows money like he invented it! New York is big territory, but not big enough for him

BOLO reached for his widebladed knife, muttering something about going back to Kelwood's and making

the town big enough for Curt. But Curt simply shook his head, then reached for the telephone.

Crooks sat silent while Curt dialed; their faces, Bolo's included, were set dumbly. They regarded the dialing

He was listening to the return clicks from the dial, counting them adeptly. As plainly as if he had watched

Curt's finger, The Shadow was picking up the important features of the phone number. He could even guess

"Hello, Gorvey." Curt's tone was low. "Yeah, it's Curt... Closing up the joint. Tonight. Hang on to any mail

orders that come in at your place... Yeah, I'll call you and check on any that come in. Still filling them?...

Sure, I'll attend to that. With some personal service, just to make sure there'll be no leaks."

Even before Curt had hung up the receiver his ears caught an outside sound. The Shadow heard it, too, for he

was closer than Curt. The sound came from the street door of the travel bureau. Someone was entering quite

stealthily. The Shadow presumed that it was Juke, back from his useless trailing of Vic Marquette.

There wasn't time to look. With a quick twist, The Shadow was out of the little passage and behind the

counter of the travel bureau proper. As he went, he heard Curt's growl from the inner office:

"Juke's coming in. Slide out to meet him, Bolo. Make sure he isn't being trailed. Sometimes the Feds get

From behind the counter The Shadow could see Bolo sneaking from the passage to meet the man who was

creeping inward. A face came into view just above the counter level. The Shadow saw it first, recognized the

swarthy countenance, and was rising suddenly in darkness when Bolo gave a snarl.

Then figures were lunging, the intruder swinging with a gun as Bolo, in one quick sweep, produced his

widebladed knife for a throw to a victim's heart. It wasn't Juke who had entered; it was another man,

QUICK though Marquette was with his gun, he could not match Bolo's speed with the knife. Ordinarily,

perhaps, Vic would have had a chance; but these circumstances were not ordinary. Bolo had spotted

Marquette first, while Vic hadn't even picked out the door from which his enemy lunged. The darkness in the

Sound alone was guiding Vic Marquette; his own lunge was simply an instinctive response. He was faced the

wrong way when he started, which made his gun swing a long one. His wheel toward Bolo was a mistake; it

In all, Marquette was giving Bolo a half second to get in the first thrust and such a thrust, at this close

It happened that The Shadow dealt in time splits much shorter than half seconds. He proved it in a way as

A swish of blackness marked The Shadow's intervening drive, an amazing whirl, in Bolo's direction first. The

assassin's hand, finishing an overhand knife throw, was met by an upswing of an automatic that The Shadow

whisked from beneath his cloak. The blow caught blade as well as hand. The knife scaled high from Bolo's

Only a rapid reverse spin could have saved The Shadow after he disarmed Bolo. The Shadow made it,

continuing his gun swing in a fullaround backhand fashion that culminated in a powerful downstroke.

Again metal clashed metal. This time The Shadow's heavy automatic found Marquette's aiming gun. The

Shadow's weapon bashed Vic's downward just as the Fed pulled the trigger. A bullet chewed the baseboard

It wasn't to save Bolo. The Shadow's stroke was for his own personal benefit. He had no other choice. To

save Marquette he had been forced to hurl himself into Bolo's path and therewith The Shadow had placed

his own life in jeopardy at the point of Marquette's gun. The only way to stay alive had been to disarm Vic as

Bolo's howl and the roaring blast of Marquette's gun produced reactions from two directions. The front door

of the travel bureau smashed open and other Feds lunged into the place with flashlights, dragging a prisoner

with them in the person of Juke. At the same time there were shouts from the rear room; with them, the office

The confusion was broken by another sound the tone of a rising laugh. Weird, challenging, it came from the

lips of The Shadow, the midfigure in the scene. Rising in a fierce crescendo, the mockery spelled doom to

men of crime. It brought a momentary halt to the charge from the rear room. With that strident mirth, The

Despite that fitting result, The Shadow's laugh had another and more important purpose.

As before, The Shadow recognized that he would be useful only if he remained alive. His mirth was a

declaration of his identity to Marquette's reserves. They had trapped Juke and made him bring them here to

Sight of Marquette, reeling in the flood of flashlights and clinging to his gunless hand, was enough to make

the Feds suppose that all others were enemies, even the blackish fighter who was sidesweeping from the path

But the taunt that The Shadow delivered was enough to stay all trigger fingers. Feds knew that they had an

SHOTS ripped from the rear room. The fusillade riddled nothing except the front window with its display of

travel posters. No one was in line with the doorway through which the fire came. The Shadow had wheeled

Then, as The Shadow turned and tried a shot, the Feds followed suit. Edging for the door, they began to

It wasn't healthy for Curt Hulber and his mob, and they seemed to know it. They were in retreat, or about to

be, and the Feds were straining, counting on a chance to surge after them. Bolo had already fled through the

door to the inner office and had been lucky enough to reach his goal just before the shooting began.

A lull in the firing caused Juke to look for The Shadow. He saw the cloaked fighter, gliding toward the front

door and understood the reason. The Shadow intended to get out and around; to halt Curt Hulber and the rest

With The Shadow actually gone, Juke discounted other dangers. Shots were spasmodic, as though Feds and

crooks were feeling each other out. Juke decided that he could profit by the situation.

Wresting himself from between two gripping Feds, Juke made a frantic dash for the connecting door and

Safely away, Juke was starting a laugh of his own, one of ridicule for the Feds behind him, when an

interruption came. The roar of guns drowned Juke's cackle; he jolted, pitched forward among the very men

Curt Hulber and his crew had mistaken Juke's dash for a charge by the Feds. From their darkened stronghold,

Gun reclaimed, Vic Marquette crept close to the door edge. He could hear Juke's dying coughs; the crook was

Vic couldn't make out what Juke was saying, nor did he guess it, for Vic had not witnessed The Shadow's

gliding departure. But the stir from the back room told that mobsters had suddenly decided to abandon it, for

They went. The surge was sudden enough to take the crooks by surprise. In the glare of their own flashlights

the driving Feds spotted the men they wanted. Urged by the harsh shouts of a leader who was already out

through a back door, the thugs were trying to get away with big, paperwrapped bundles which they used as

Hesitation might have been disastrous, so Vic and his squad did not wait. They hurled themselves upon the

clustered crooks, profiting by the clumsiness that the packages caused. Before other guns could aim, the Feds

were snatching away the shielding bundles and slugging at the men who lost them.

Two thugs tried to grapple, and therewith took the brunt of the attack. Their guns spurted wide, but those of

Across their bodies, and that of the other dead man, Juke, the Feds went after the rest. Carl Hulber had

reached a truck in the back alley, along with henchmen who included Bolo. Bundles were going on board,

The Feds charged anew, only to find themselves suddenly flanked by savage men who came in slugging with

It was Bolo's idea, this. Most vicious of the thuggish crew, he had been assigned to lead the flank attack. Had

he still possessed his chopping knife, and had the rest been similarly armed, Bolo would have given his

companions some lessons in the art of literally carving foemen to pieces. But The Shadow had deprived Bolo

Instead of a knife, the crook had a revolver and was slashing with it as an example to the crew. He thought

that they could slug the Feds into submission and save bullets for later battle.

Marquette's men weren't so easily slugged. Though off guard, they battered back and managed to ward off the

THE fight was spreading, and battlers on both sides were starting to take quick shots at their opponents, when

This time it came from the darkness of the alley itself, a spot that The Shadow had reached on his roundabout

trip. He knew the effect that such a challenge could have upon thuggish battlers. Again, it was the element

that might turn the fray in favor of the Feds. But The Shadow's laugh, as before, brought results beyond

Bolo and his bunch did not even turn to shoot into the dark. Instead, they scrambled pellmell for the truck

From the interior, Curt Hulber hoarsed an order; a driver, up ahead, put the truck into motion. Curt had a gun

and used it, not to shoot at the Feds, but toward the spot where he thought The Shadow was.

Chilling mockery greeted Curt's gun bursts. It was as if The Shadow told Curt that such bullets were wasted.

The mirth was an invitation to try shooting elsewhere, which Curt did, for he hadn't any idea just where the

Actually, Curt Hulber was making himself the goat. His first shots, blind though they were, had been close to

The Shadow's real position, forcing the cloaked fighter to wheel into shelter. Once Curt's aim changed, The

Here was opportunity to drill the fugitives, their leader, Curt Hulber, included; but the chance was gone

before The Shadow could use it. Feds, springing into the truck after the crooks, became barriers to The

From the ground, Vic Marquette was shouting after his men to drop off, knowing that they were outnumbered

by the men in the truck, and realizing, too, that they were cramping The Shadow's marksmanship.

Vic's men came flinging out, bringing some of the precious bundles, which helped them as buffers when they

hit the paving; but by then, mobsters were away. The truck was turning the corner when the last Fed dropped

A laugh from the darkness betokened The Shadow's own departure, and seemed to carry a note of reproval

with it; a tone that Vic Marquette felt was especially meant for himself and his overardent squad.

Bringing the bundles, Vic's men accompanied him into the rear office of the fake travel bureau. Turning on

the light; Vic saw the other packages and ordered his men to tear into both batches. Exultantly, he was

"Here's where we find some of that ninenumber paper, the kind that Kelwood uncovered for us! A whole

By then the packages were open, their contents strewing the floor. His mouth halted half open, Marquette

stared at batches of timetables and travel circulars; nothing more. There wasn't a sign of a dollar bill, real or

These bundles were a blind for others that could actually hold counterfeit cash. But the big shot in that racket

had been smart enough to ship the other packages when he learned of Marquette's first visit to Kelwood.

Tonight, on the occasion of Vic's second chat with Kelwood, the counterfeiters had decided to close out the

fake travel bureau as well. Rather than leave peculiar evidence, they had tried to take along the surplus

GLUMLY, Vic Marquette surveyed the sprawled body of Juke, which was quite as dead as two others that

the crooks had left on the field. Marquette was chiding himself for a very bad mistake.

He hadn't taken time to quiz Juke. Vic had simply spotted the trailer, signaled a few Feds from the hotel

lobby, and taken up Juke's trail himself. They had bagged the crook almost outside the travel bureau, and Vic

Though sure that this was the headquarters of a counterfeiting group of which Juke had been a member, Vic

hadn't an idea that Curt Hulber was the man who had managed the pretended travel bureau. In fact, Vic had

"He told us nothing." Marquette's eyes were on Juke. He shifted his gaze to the scattered timetables and

Those words were heard by a listener who had returned from the night to pause in the darkness of the alley

door. From Vic's statement, The Shadow knew that the facts which he himself had learned were still

The Shadow knew the name of the man that Marquette wanted: Curt Hulber. Likewise, The Shadow had the

name and phone number of Gorvey, to whom Curt had assigned the task of gathering up loose ends and

There was a swish of a departing figure from the alley door; the whispered tone of a strange, prophetic laugh

Nothing from nothing totaled nothing, by Marquette's mode of calculation. But The Shadow had gained

To Ted Lingle the business of installing cigarettevending machines in outoftheway places had become a

habit, though a rather tiring one. Even the task of collecting dimes, nickels and odd pennies was something of

Ted's territory was a rather thinly settled section of New Jersey, and most of the customers who used his

machines liked to keep a supply of change on hand. Hence it was Ted's policy to take dollar bills and leave

the smaller cash with the customers. For three days he had been pressing that system to the limit.

In fact, Ted had purposely oversupplied himself with small change. He not only took the bills that were

offered him, but asked if people could supply him with more. He preferred onedollar bills and was getting

Funny business, this, hoping to find counterfeit money instead of real! Every time that Ted came across a bill

that contained nine figures in its serial number it cost him just one dollar, for Ted's sense of honesty wouldn't

However, he regarded the bills as a good investment, for they were clues that might lead him to his goal. Ted

was careful to label those dollar notes with the names of the places where he had received them.

One place stood out among the others. It was the B B Service Station, that did a fairly profitable business at a

country crossroads. It was called B B because of the partners who ran it: Bleban and Brenlow.

Bleban was always at the service station. He was a cagey man, bluntfeatured and apt to talk but little.

Brenlow, who was seldom in the place, had some other job and apparently only took over when Bleban

wanted a day off. Ted had met Brenlow twice and remembered him as a talkative chap whose voice had a

It was with Bleban that Ted had made a deal two days before. The reason for the deal was because Bleban

had given him ten bills with ninefigured serial numbers, which the bluntfaced man had taken from a

Ted had remarked that he could use a lot of ones, sometimes as much as five hundred dollars' worth, whereat

Bleban's eye had taken on an avaricious gleam. The servicestation man had suggested that Ted stop by on

Saturday evening, a time when the B B Service Station might have more cash than it required.

So here it was, Saturday evening, and Ted was taking advantage of the dusk to watch the service station from

He could see Bleban whenever the bluntfaced man came out to service a car, and Ted noticed that the fellow

was impatient. Evidently he was waiting for Brenlow to show up and relieve him before the time that he

This pleased Ted, for he was afraid that he hadn't arrived early enough. His object, of course, was to find out

where and how Bleban intended to get five hundred dollars in brandnew currency that had nine figures in

All along, Ted had been worrying that Bleban might go after the counterfeit cash earlier than Saturday

evening, but apparently Bleban hadn't. So Ted's hunch was working out, and he felt himself already on a trail

There were moments when Ted felt small about the thing. The idea of snaring a man like Bleban to make a

personal profit wouldn't ordinarily have occurred to Ted. But he felt that it was balanced by the fact that he

That cleared Ted's mind on the subject, and left him free to consider something else namely Isabel Parnal.

Ted's love for Isabel wasn't selfish. He knew that she cared for him deeply, and considered their marriage

essential to her happiness. Isabel's parents had died some years ago, and though she regarded Stephen

Kelwood as a friend and adviser, she had never found real understanding from anyone until she met Ted.

She was staying at Kelwood's only until she could arrange her future plans, and she hoped that such plans

So did Ted, but he wanted to be established first. It would take him a year or more before he would have

enough money to make a down payment on a home. But such a wait would be unnecessary if Ted found a

windfall to the tune of ten thousand dollars. It would be better than borrowing money from Isabel, which she

THE sudden arrival of a car across the road brought an end to Ted's reflections. The car was Brenlow's, for

Deep in his own car's front seat, Ted expected to see Bleban come out, but the fellow didn't. From the way

heads bobbed inside the station, Ted decided that the pair were holding a conference.

It struck Ted suddenly that Brenlow might be the man who provided Bleban with the counterfeit cash.

Deciding to find out, Ted slid from his car and went across the way. From a side window of the service

station, he looked in upon the scene. Partly opened, the window allowed him to hear the words that passed.

At first there was nothing important, except that Ted's new hunch faded when he saw that Bleban was

anxious to leave the place, while Brenlow, for some reason, was trying to hold him back. Then, when Bleban

"I've got a date," returned Bleban gruffly. "Got a right to one, haven't I, the way I stick around here all the

"Maybe," said Brenlow smoothly, "provided you don't blow the five hundred bucks that you drew out of our

"Yeah, I found out about it," Brenlow continued. "A check of mine bounced back. Got it around suppertime

from the guy that couldn't pass it. Called one of the bank tellers, and he said you about cleaned things out a

Brenlow's tone became threatening. He was advancing, ready to make a grab for Bleban, when the latter

"You'd better do more than that," Brenlow argued. "You'd better come through with the cash!"

For answer, Bleban reached a desk drawer, brought out a folded sheet of paper that looked like a letter.

"Do I remember it!" Brenlow snorted. "I ought to. When a guy who calls himself Specialized Process, Inc.,

"But he sent some dollar bills with the letter," Bleban reminded. "He admitted they were counterfeits, but he

"So you passed them. Sure! It's called the greengoods game, that racket is, and they send you real cash, not

phony. That gets your confidence and you pay for a whole pile of the stuff. Do you know what they send you

then? I told you once: blank paper! That leaves you holding the bag, because if you squawl, you're admitting

Brenlow finished his oration in a wisetoned style, but all he received from Bleban was a head shake.

"You don't get blank paper," said Bleban. "Not from these fellows. I tried it with a hundred bucks and got a

"Not just once," added Bleban, "but three times. Remember the dough I said my uncle left me? That was it. I

bought the new car, lifted the mortgage on the house, and did a few other things besides, all with that three

BRENLOW'S hand went for his partner's collar. He caught Bleban and hauled him to his feet. Brenlow's face

"You louse!" he grated. "You were in on something real and wouldn't tell me! You call yourself my partner

"I was going to tell you," interrupted Bleban. "But I blew the dough so fast it left me woozy."

"A lot," Bleban insisted. "That guy Lingle came in, the one who has the cigarette machine" he nudged

toward the corner of the room "and was saying he could use a lot of onedollar bills. Said he'd be around

tonight and would take five hundred. It looked like a quick way to get an investment back, so I drew five

"And sent it to New York?" Brenlow queried. "To get five thousand of the counterfeit?"

"Sixtyforty," he suggested. "I'm to have the big end to make up for what went before. In the future it will be

Friends again, the two partners exchanged grins that ended all of Ted's qualms concerning his own plans.

They were showing themselves for what they were crooks as bad as those who were behind the game. But

He had heard of the greengoods game, a specialty with confidence men. But never before, to Ted's

knowledge, had it been worked on the upandup. Some real brain of crime, engaged in actual

counterfeiting, had struck upon a grand idea, as efficient as it was vicious. He was using the greengoods

game to actually unload millions in fraudulent currency. A sucker racket, being worked without suckers!

The huge proportions of the thing left Ted aghast. Through men like Bleban and Brenlow scores of them

throughout the country the counterfeiters could unload their wares everywhere. Ten dollars for one was bait

that no one with crooked tendencies could resist, particularly when it was backed by the promised goods, in

This was the sort of game that would lead to repeat orders from men who would stay mum. Bleban's own

statements, given only under pressure, proved that he had been closemouthed. Brenlow's eagerness to share

"I was coming back," Ted heard Bleban say. "I'd have to come back to be here when Lingle shows up. The

"Then I've got time to go along with you," decided Brenlow. "Let's close this dump until we get back. I like

your idea of letting Lingle finance the deal. We'll get our five hundred back in real cash" he was finishing

THE two went out to Brenlow's car. Ted waited until they had started away, then slid back to his own coupe.

There was no use to hurry; caution was preferable, for Ted knew the way to the railroad station where the

Ted Lingle also knew what was to be done when he reached that destination. Though it was something like

taking the law into his own hands, he felt that the result would justify the action. Reaching to a pocket in the

door beside the driver's seat, Ted drew out a .32 revolver and transferred it to his coat.

Tonight Ted intended to trap a pair of rogues. Men who wanted to swindle him, as Ted could prove, for there

had been witnesses in the service station the other night when Ted had talked to Bleban in terms of five

To confront this pair and hold them was all that would be necessary. After that, the law could do the rest, and

Ted felt confident that the payment of a tenthousanddollar reward would be an ultimate result.

With the secret of the counterfeiting game exposed, Ted was sure that the Feds would swiftly crack the ring

Unfortunately, Ted Lingle knew nothing of the hidden factors in the game, which were to turn his quest into a

In taking up a simple trail, Ted Lingle was thrusting himself into paths of adventure wherein the space

THE agent at the railway station was about to close up when Bleban and Brenlow arrived there. They hadn't

hurried because they knew that the agent lived just across the tracks, where they could reach him any time.

"The package is out in the express office," he said. "It's the only package there. I was going to lock the door

"Then you won't have to lock the door," added Brenlow. "So you can save yourself some extra trouble."

Quite pleased, the agent closed the station and went across the tracks, while the two partners were finding the

They saw the package; it was a chunky one, much like the bundles which Vic Marquette had found at the

"Wait a minute," argued Brenlow, cagily. "I've only been going on your sayso. I'd like to have a quick look

He ripped the cover of the package. The green hue of currency greeted Brenlow's gaze. He peeled a few bills

from the stack and examined them. The money looked real, almost too real. In fact, Brenlow couldn't see a

thing wrong with it, inasmuch as he did not count the figures in the serial numbers.

"It's too good to be phony," Brenlow undertoned. "Maybe we've been gypped, after all."

"These bills may only be the outer layer," Brenlow told his partner. "That's an old dodge with the

greengoods experts. They plank a few bills real ones on a stack of blank paper. Let's have a better look."

He ripped the cover of the package and let the stacks spread. The wider the contents went, the more green

Brenlow saw. Like a miser counting gold, Brenlow began to paw through the counterfeit currency, and

Bleban, seized with the same urge, stooped to help him. Both were breathless when a cool voice spoke behind

Startled faces bobbed about. The servicestation owners recognized Ted Lingle, though they only took a

brief look at his face. The thing that worried them more was the muzzle of Ted's .32 that pointed right

Shaky hands lost their grip on the wads of long green. Crinkly bills floated from numbed fingers as Bleban

and Brenlow raised their arms. Ted Lingle had taken them thoroughly by surprise.

If the devil himself had popped into sight, the connivers would not have been taken more aback. To see the

man upon whom they expected to foist five hundred dollars of the fraudulent cash was something quite

"Stay just as you are," he repeated. "I'm going to fire a shot and bring our friend, the station agent. I want him

Bleban and Brenlow had stiffened. So did Ted, before his finger could press the trigger. He didn't see the

thing that petrified him; he felt it, a gun muzzle right against his neck, cold as the point of an icicle.

"All right, wise guy! Turn around, so I can get a gander at your mug! Try to get a peek at mine!"

TURNING slowly, Ted let his numbed fingers spread. His own gun clattered to the floor while he was staring

at a masked man who had him covered. The mask was a handkerchief and it hid the face of Curt Hulber.

Beyond Curt, Ted saw others, likewise masked. Some had guns, but one was holding a wicked, widebladed

Leaving Ted under control of his band, Curt stepped aside to confer with the partnership of Bleban and

"I thought you might need protection," said Curt. "Just as a little special service. We give it with orders of

"So that's the gag." Curt glared at Ted. "I guess you are a Tguy, pulling that stuff. What did you do look in

Ted didn't seem to understand. Curt caught him by the coat lapel and yanked him into the light. He gave Ted's

coat a backward wrench to see if it concealed a badge. There was none which rather puzzled Curt. He thought

that Ted, if a Fed, would certainly be wearing one to flash when the right time came.

At that moment Bolo stepped forward and took a look through the eye slits of his mask. Bolo's ugly gaze was

"It's Lingle!" gruffed Bolo. "The dope that came to Kelwood's to see the Parnal dame. Juke told me about

"So you're Lingle," sneered Curt. "I've heard about you. An amateur dick who thinks he can move faster than

the Feds and us!" Studying Ted, Curt turned suddenly to Bleban and Brenlow: "What did this mug tell you

"He said he'd take five hundred bucks in ones," replied Bleban, finding his voice. "His business is placing

"For five grand of queer," nodded Curt. "I get it. You wanted to have Lingle pay the freight. Maybe we'll let

him" swinging suddenly, Curt jabbed his gun against Ted's ribs "and maybe we won't!"

It was Brenlow who sprang forward in protest. For a moment, Ted thought that he had been wrong in

considering the fellow to be a fullfledged rat; but Brenlow soon corrected the point. He wasn't concerned

"Not here!" exclaimed Brenlow. "It would bring the station agent sure! Take Lingle somewhere else."

"We can handle the counterfeit money," added Bleban. "Only we don't want anything to happen that might

Curt's harsh laugh told that he approved the opinion of the two buyers. Curt turned to Bolo and nudged

toward Ted. Without a word, Bolo placed the point of his big knife against Ted's spine and started the

prisoner toward the door of the express room. Curt motioned for Bleban and Brenlow to gather up the stacks

To Ted, as he walked mechanically forward, it seemed that darkness was prepared to swallow him into

absolute oblivion. Thoughts of reward money had already winged from his mind. He was picturing a last

Curt's willingness to avoid gunfire on these premises had given Ted a momentary hope, but it was gone under

Ted knew instinctively that he couldn't escape that heavy blade. If he tried to run, Bolo would hack him.

Actually, Ted was pressing back against the knifepoint, figuring it the safest way to avoid immediate death.

He took three steps into the darkness, expecting that each stride would bring a thrust. Yet his knees couldn't

The point of the knife left Ted's back. It could only mean that Bolo had whipped the blade away, intending to

Frantic, Ted made a wild spring forward, ducking as he went. He crossed the edge of the platform, tripped on

the rails, and rolled face up between the tracks. He thought that he saw Bolo lunging after him; fancied that

Half propped upon the ties, Ted stared. Against the light from the baggage room, he witnessed something that

the men inside could not see. Bolo's lunge had turned into a stagger; the knife was slipping from the killer's

Out of blackness had come an avenging figure, a weird being cloaked in black. A gloved hand had delivered

a hard stroke to Bolo's skull, flattening the masked assassin with the weight of a heavy automatic.

The stroke from the dark had saved Ted's life, but it hadn't fully escaped the notice of the men within the

baggage room. They must have heard the thud of Bolo's form upon the weatherbeaten platform for they

were wheeling even as Curt Hulber voiced an order. There wasn't time for Ted to cry out to his rescuer.

No shout was needed. The figure in black wheeled toward the express room as though expecting trouble from

that quarter. It was Ted's rescuer who delivered the challenge that came a strident peal of sinister mirth that

CURT HULBER provided the example which his henchmen followed. He dived for the depths of the

baggage room, and the other masked mobsters did the same, leaving the startled partnership of Bleban and

On hands and knees, the two receivers of counterfeit cash were easy targets for The Shadow; but he ignored

them. He was after more important prey: Curt Hulber and the masked crew. The Shadow's automatic, blasting

If Curt or any of the rest had tried to answer that shot they would have found their finish. Once The Shadow

had the edge, he kept it. Curt was quick to recognize the fact and to guess that the corner of an empty express

Curt did more than prove himself a marksman; he showed good choice of a target. From his corner he aimed

for the hanging light that illuminated the express room and cracked the bulb with his first shot.

More guns began to blaze. They were seeking The Shadow, an action which seemed safe enough in darkness.

Crooks forgot that the spurts from their gun muzzles could reveal them. The Shadow's fire found them while

Curt was howling for his crew to keep on dodging. Crippled thugs obeyed, but when they dodged; they

Desperately, Curt did the unexpected. Trusting that shots from his own crew wouldn't clip him, he lunged

from the express room, making straight for the spot where Ted had sprawled. He wanted to get hold of Ted,

On the way, Curt tripped over Bolo's rising form; but the mishap helped. It lurched Curt directly upon Ted.

The Shadow wheeled in as he heard Curt shout for aid. Curt dodged away to avoid a sledging gun. By then

his thugs were coming from the express room, shooting blindly as they made for their cars across the tracks,

In his turn, The Shadow caught Ted and yanked him off through the darkness, spinning him to a safe spot

along the station platform. Then, cutting across the tracks, The Shadow sought to head crooks off.

A figure met him headon. It was the station agent, coming from his house. A distant rumble came through

the night as The Shadow tried to fling the man aside and head after the scattered crooks who were howling

for Curt to guide them. By the time The Shadow was freed of his tenacious attacker, a light sliced from the

It was the headlight of the night freight, just swinging the bend. The blaze showed more than glistening rails.

It revealed the groggy station agent wavering in the middle of the track; some distance from him the cloaked

The sight rallied Curt and his halfcrippled crew. Madly they opened fire at the cloaked target, only to see

The Shadow wheel in the one direction they did not expect: straight toward the approaching locomotive.

Before they could guess what his purpose was, The Shadow had completed it. Twisting sideways, he bowled

the station agent to the safety of the platform, where Ted was standing, stupefied. Then, clear of the

searchlight's mighty flood, The Shadow wheeled against the station wall to deal with crooks again.

Only the arrival of the locomotive saved the fugitive crew. Its bulk came thundering in between The Shadow

Grabbing for the nearest ladder, The Shadow went scrambling to the top of a freight car, hoping to resume the

shooting when crooks least expected it. His laugh came, strident, above the train's loud rumble. A laugh that

They did not see The Shadow as he aimed for them with two guns that still had plenty of biting bullets. He

saw the cars and was aiming for them, knowing that shots in that direction would lay low the intervening

But The Shadow did not see another automobile that was racing from the railroad station alongside of the

BLEBAN and Brenlow had reached their car and were trying to escape with a portion of the counterfeit

money that they had purchased. Bleban was plucking loose bills from his partner's hands while Brenlow

Both wanted to get far away, but it was Brenlow's idea to pick the route across the tracks. He must have

Perhaps it would have been safer had Brenlow been able to manage it. But things had been going too swiftly

for him. They were still going too swiftly, particularly the locomotive, when Brenlow jerked the car across its

The engineer saw the doomed automobile and applied the air brakes. The brakes merely made the locomotive

jolt of its own accord as it smashed into the car. Bleban and Brenlow were flung a hundred feet forward, their

car going with them, twisted into wreckage as mangled as the bodies that it contained.

The Shadow was flung a dozen feet ahead. His jolt wasn't serious, for he was simply atop a box car, but the

The Shadow's guns went off at upward angles, with no target to receive their bullets. The sudden deaths of

Bleban and Brenlow brought security to Curt Hulber and his outfit, as their cars sped away unmolested by

Rolling from his box car, The Shadow broke his fall by catching ladder rungs on the way down. He struck the

cinders and ran back along the roadbed to the station platform where he found Ted Lingle in the clutch of the

Ted was trying to explain things truly, but it was in an unsatisfactory fashion. The Shadow shoved the station

They were as far as Ted's car before the young man began a protest. Ted clutched angrily for The Shadow

As Ted crumpled, The Shadow rolled him into the coupe and sprang to the wheel. Members of the train crew

arrived in time to see the taillights disappear, but not across the railroad tracks. The halted train was blocking

When Ted came to his senses he listened to the steady tone of the rescuer who was carrying him away. The

Shadow did not bother to explain that he had checked on orders received at Gorvey's office and had picked

the destination of a special shipment as a likely place to meet up with Curt Hulber.

Gorvey hadn't made that shipment personally. He had simply mentioned the address to Curt when the latter

telephoned him from some unknown location. Curt himself had addressed the greengoods to Bleban, and

Outside the express room he had heard enough to know that Ted's own position was none too enviable; that,

in the light of all that happened later, it was better for Ted to be absent from the scene of investigation. Such

were the points that he made clear to Ted as The Shadow halted his car a few miles from the railroad.

"Stay here," he told Ted. "Wait until I return. We are close to a town, but we are off the main road. No one

will find you while I am gone. Later we can make the proper plans. You understand "

The final words were not a question. They were a command. Ted gave a nod. He understood. Then The

Somehow the fade of the motor cleared Ted's senses. He began to piece the past and The Shadow's

TED LINGLE had meddled with things that did not concern him and would probably take an undeserved

share of the blame. Bleban and Brenlow were dead and would be branded as distributors of counterfeit cash.

The local authorities would check back on matters and learn that Ted had talked to Bleban regarding a matter

of five hundred dollars. Those witnesses upon whom Ted depended would give damaging testimony instead

They would brand Ted as a lesser agent in the counterfeiting racket rather than a man who had tried to

His own plight did not bother Ted very long. He began to think of Isabel. He was sure that she would trust in

him, but that wasn't the great problem. Ted's thoughts flashed to the future actions of the masked crooks who

They knew who Ted was, and they had mentioned Isabel as well! To Ted that thought meant one thing only:

Ted should have realized that The Shadow did but it happened that Ted was not in a reasoning mood. He

intended to obey The Shadow's injunctions as far as he could; but anything concerning Isabel would have to

There was only one thing to do. Ted would have to leave the car, walk to the town that The Shadow had

mentioned, and call Isabel by long distance to warn her. After that, he could return to the car and await The

Dominating Ted's thoughts was the conviction that Curt Hulber and the members of his partlycrippled crew

were driving for New York to take care of matters there. It should have occurred to Ted that, in that case, The

Had he realized that fact which he did not Ted Lingle might also have recognized that The Shadow,

ISABEL PARNAL was feeling very lonely. So lonely that she was forced to smile as she gazed reflectively

at the darkened windows of the conservatory. It was odd to feel lonely; quite as odd as it was to be lounging

Being lonely was almost a new experience for Isabel. She could remember being unhappy and dissatisfied.

Often she had felt the need for new and different companionship, but never actual loneliness. In fact, Isabel

had frequently felt that she knew too many people. Had she been able to picture herself as others did, Isabel

She was indeed a picture as she relaxed in her wicker chair. Isabel was wearing lounging pajamas which she

had chosen because she thought them attractive. It hadn't really occurred to her that when she occupied them,

Clad in those garments, Isabel's lithe figure showed its shapeliness to full perfection. It was the same with

almost all the apparel that Isabel chose, and it explained why men smiled in rapture when they met her.

Which, in turn, explained why Isabel considered all men alike, with the exception of Ted Lingle.

Ted was serious always. He never stared except at Isabel's eyes. He didn't talk of moonbeams and

honeysuckle, which did not long remain in season. He discussed permanent things, like a home in the country

and the furnishings which it could contain. He talked in terms of dollars and cents, all of which he intended to

In fact, Ted acted as if Isabel hadn't any money of her own, and Isabel liked it. So much that she hadn't dared

to let Ted know how wealthy she really was. Isabel admired Ted's independence and wanted him to keep it.

She was thinking of Ted when the telephone bell rang. Subconsciously, Isabel must have known that Ted was

calling for she came in from the conservatory and answered the telephone herself. Her greeting was happy as

she heard Ted's voice; then Isabel realized that his tone was more serious than ever. She found herself

"Danger?" she queried. "Here?... Yes, Ted, I understand. I am to tell Mr. Kelwood to call Marquette...

Because men may be coming here to murder Mr. Kelwood? But, Ted it's incredible!"

The phone went dead in Isabel's hand and a chill gripped her as though a cold breeze had stolen through the

Ted had ended his conversation with those words, and danger did seem close. It dawned on Isabel that she

had just heard something other than Ted's words a sound in the hall itself. A sound she suddenly recognized

ISABEL knew of only one person who could move with such a sneaky tread. That person was Therman, the

Often, Isabel had wondered why Kelwood kept the fellow in his employ, until she had reasoned that

Of late years, Kelwood's only business had been the handling of large estates, like Isabel's; and with matters

Therman, it seemed, was a man with a photographic memory and a cardindex brain. Often Isabel had heard

Still, that did not excuse the secretary's snooping habit. Isabel had every reason to chide the fellow, and she

turned to do so, only to find that he wasn't in sight. The thing was so startling that Isabel dropped back; one

hand went to the smooth throat above her lownecked pajama jacket as she choked back an involuntary cry.

The creep came again. It was from the stairway, almost above her, which explained how Therman could have

gone from sight. Unable to tell whether the man was moving up or down, Isabel stole to the stairway to see.

It all seemed very simple. Therman must have gone upstairs, and since Kelwood was also up there in his

study, Isabel had every reason to follow. If she overtook Therman, she could ask him what he meant by

playing the sneak. Should she find him in the study, she could make the accusation in front of Kelwood.

But Isabel hesitated, despite herself. She thought she heard the creep again, from this very floor!

Glancing toward the door of the dimlylighted library across the hall, Isabel actually fancied that she saw the

curtains stir. It couldn't be that Therman had crossed the hallway openly, yet such was Isabel's impression.

Starting toward the library, the girl suddenly lost her nerve. She turned and dashed up the stairs like mad, her

bare ankles twinkling above the slippers that threatened to trip her as she fled.

Stephen Kelwood looked up from his desk as the frightened girl flounced into his study. He smiled

indulgently at what appeared to be an exhibition of childish caprice on Isabel's part.

Her fling of the door had been so sudden that she stumbled, losing one of her slippers as she came toward the

desk. Kelwood expected her to stop and put it on, but Isabel didn't realize that the slipper was gone.

She halted, her hands against the desk, and Kelwood noticed that the girl was breathless. His face sobered as

Isabel hesitated, to glance about the room. Therman wasn't in the study, which meant that he might still be

downstairs, and it struck Isabel that to accuse the secretary of playing the snoop would be one thing; that of

She couldn't expect Kelwood to believe the latter story. The only thing to do was to forget Therman and tell

Still breathless, Isabel described the telephone conversation. Kelwood's face showed frank amazement.

"How did young Lingle learn these things?" he queried. "Do you suppose" momentarily Kelwood's face

furrowed in a glower "that he was eavesdropping the other night when Therman met him outside the

Isabel started an indignant response. Without giving specific instances, she was classing Therman as a

snooper, whose word couldn't be taken regarding the shortcomings of anyone else. Kelwood interrupted the

"Never mind," he said. "The important thing is that Lingle has discovered something. The danger that he

"I do," Kelwood replied. "They were here the other night. They followed Marquette after he left. Marquette

happens to be a government operative who is on the trail of counterfeiters whose methods I exposed."

ISABEL stared as Kelwood reached for the telephone. She heard him call a number, introduce himself and

hold a brief conversation. Finishing the call, Kelwood was more serious than ever.

"I talked to one of the Federal men," he said. "Marquette just raided an office on a tipoff that apparently

"Yes. He is an independent investigator who frequently aids the law. The office that Marquette raided appears

to be a place where counterfeiters take mail orders for fraudulent bills. Unfortunately, Gorvey, the man in

"Then Gorvey may be coming here!" exclaimed Isabel. "He could be the man that Ted warned me against!"

"I hadn't thought of that," said Kelwood slowly. "I was thinking in terms of others. The operative told me that

some trouble had been reported in New Jersey involving counterfeit currency. There was gunplay at a

"Perhaps he did," nodded Kelwood. "However, Marquette is coming here, and we can discuss it all when he

arrives. As for Gorvey, if he comes first he won't be able to get into the house, so there is no need to worry."

Kelwood raised the shade of a rear window, looked across a little yard to a low fence that followed the rear

street. The street was fairly welllighted, and no one was in sight. Satisfied, Kelwood stepped around the

Limping as she reached the hall, Isabel realized that she was shy one slipper. Turning, she saw Kelwood

smile as he passed her the slipper with one hand while closing the study door with the other.

"I am going downstairs," Kelwood told her, "to make sure that all the doors are locked. Meanwhile, I want

"To Gray Haven!" Isabel exclaimed. "You mean the great house on the ledge! The house which my father

"And which you still own," inserted Kelwood, "although I have been renting it to pay for the cost of upkeep. I

"We have every reason to go there," explained Kelwood. "Gray Haven is practically a fortress. We shall both

be safer there because" he laid his hand gently on Isabel's shoulder "you may be in danger, as much as I."

"If I put myself away from harm," he said, "these enemies might try to reach me through you. They will

probably attempt to kill me if they can. Should they fail, it is likely that they would seek to kidnap you. The

IT was quite logical. As Kelwood went downstairs, Isabel hurried to her room and packed everything she

needed except the clothes that she intended to wear, which she laid upon the bed.

It didn't take her long, for she knew that she could send back for things that she might need and have her

Opening the door to the hall, Isabel listened to what was happening in the house. She hadn't heard Kelwood

return to his study, but he might be at the front door, for someone was knocking there.

Listening breathlessly, Isabel heard the front door being opened, then caught a voice she knew: Marquette's.

Danger seemed over, and Isabel was glad. Closing the door of her room, she slipped from the lounging

pajamas and began to dress as quickly as she could so as to be ready in case Marquette should decide that she

It didn't occur to Isabel that danger might be closest when security seemed sure. However, she might have felt

uneasy had she left her room to glance down the front stairs. It wasn't Kelwood who had met Marquette at the

"Mr. Kelwood is making sure that the house is properly locked," Therman was explaining to Vic. "He asked

me to attend to the windows in the conservatory, which I did. Perhaps by this time Mr. Kelwood is back in

They went upstairs and reached the study door. Therman stopped to knock, with his other hand ready to turn

the knob. But Marquette was too impatient to stand on formality. Brushing Therman aside, Vic strode into the

Kelwood hadn't yet returned. That fact flashed to Marquette in an instant, for he had only an instant to think

Indeed, the door was still swinging under Marquette's thrust when the next thing happened.

There was a sharp report from a gun out by the rear wall of the yard, a crash of the study window that had the

raised shade. A bullet whistled past Marquette's ear to bury itself in the wall beside the door.

The shot had missed, but Vic made a roundabout jolt as sharp as if the slug had found him. He hurled himself

upon Therman to fling the secretary back; in that dive, Vic saw the light switch and hooked it as he passed.

Darkness blanketed the study. Pulling Therman to hands and knees, Marquette went scrambling through the

study to reach the window, with the secretary following after. Therman stopped to paw in Kelwood's desk for

At the window, Marquette couldn't see anyone along the lighted street, so decided that the sharpshooter must

Someone was opening the door of the study which Marquette had slammed shut. Remembering his own

experience, Vic sprang out to halt the entrant. Across the threshold he encountered Isabel, who was attired in

Shoving the startled girl away from the doorway, Marquette turned to meet a new arrival who was dashing in

from the rear of the hall, having come up the back steps. The newcomer was Stephen Kelwood.

"The shot was fired from out back!" Kelwood exclaimed. "I heard it just after I'd bolted the back door. Like a

"Where Therman found it," interrupted Marquette. "He and I can take care of this. You two stay here."

Driving back into the study, Marquette was just in time to hear Therman give an eager call. The secretary was

at the window, a revolver glistening in his fist. Therman's hand was moving to aim as he voiced:

Unsure that Therman could pick off the assassin, Marquette came tearing past the desk, his own gun thrust

ahead of him. But instead of aiming at the outside target, Vic turned his lunge into a twist that carried him

full upon Therman just as the triumphant secretary was pulling the revolver trigger.

Marquette was just in time. Therman's shot spurted upward as the fellow sprawled.

Vic Marquette had prevented a tragic mistake. The target that Therman had picked wasn't that of a wouldbe

assassin; could not possibly be. Therman had been aiming at a cloaked figure weaving in toward the wall

For the benefit of Therman, as well as Kelwood and Isabel, Marquette voiced the name of the arrival whose

OBVIOUSLY The Shadow must have heard the shot from the yard and was closing in to hunt down the man

who had fired it. Since The Shadow himself was coming along the street, his quarry could not have fled in

that direction. When it came to a man hunt in the dark, The Shadow needed no assistance.

Hauling Therman from beside the window, Marquette drew him to the hallway so he could hear the

"It must be Gorvey who took that potshot," stated Marquette. "He was finishing a phone call when he ducked

out from his office. Telling somebody that he'd meet up with them. He must have come here first."

"Because this is where they're coming!" Isabel exclaimed. "That's what Ted told me over the telephone."

"The Shadow must have beaten them to it," put in Kelwood. "In that case, they'll be here shortly. You've got

to start for Gray Haven, Isabel, at once! The car is out front, so hurry and put on your dress. I'll send Therman

with you and I'll stay here" grimly Kelwood plucked his revolver from Therman, who was holding the gun

Isabel reached her room and slid her arms into the waiting dress with one quick sweep. She was smoothing

the dress with one hand, picking up the bag with the other, when Therman arrived at the door.

"Mr. Kelwood has already ordered the car," explained Therman. "He says it's probably out front. So hurry to

Isabel dashed out through the hall; as she reached the front stairs she saw Kelwood and Marquette going to

the back staircase. They were probably heading for the kitchen to make sure that Gorvey didn't come through

The car was out front a limousine, with the chauffeur, Randolph, at the wheel. Isabel entered it and

Therman followed with the bag. But the car wasn't halfway to the corner before Therman called for a halt.

"The conservatory windows!" he exclaimed. "I hadn't locked all of them when Marquette came. I'll have to

Those windows weren't quite as important as Therman indicated. The Shadow had already noticed them

while probing the rear yard for the man who had fired the shot at the study window.

There was a light in the conservatory and it showed an open window; but the light itself was a

Still, there was a slim chance that someone could have gone through the conservatory, since the yard itself

seemed empty. The lights, too, showed a passage that went by the house, beneath the conservatory; and

though the passage was barred by high iron pickets, a thin man could have squeezed between the uprights.

The Shadow had moved to block off those unlikely outlets before resuming his search of the yard when he

Not knowing what had happened in the house itself, The Shadow could well assume that the sniper had

reached the front street and was using a car placed there for a getaway. But even if the car was being used by

someone else, as happened to be the case, The Shadow had good enough reason to follow it, inasmuch as its

Crossing the darkened yard, The Shadow vaulted the low wall and reached a cab parked near the corner of

the rear street. The cab was The Shadow's own; its driver one of his agents. Seldom did The Shadow lose a

MEANWHILE, Isabel Parnal was settling back in the comfortable limousine, rather pleased by the latest turn

of events. It was a long way to Gray Haven, the great house that Isabel's father had been building when he

Isabel was glad that she wasn't going to have Therman for company on the trip. She much preferred to ride

The trip, however, was to last only for about three blocks instead of covering some three hundred miles.

As Randolph neared a corner he stopped the big car rather than cut across the path of others that were roaring

Brakes shrieked suddenly as the lead car halted. Its driver had recognized Kelwood's limousine. There was

another man in the arriving crew who spotted Isabel. The other car slapped to a stop; men came leaping from

The first of that tribe reached the limousine and yanked open one door before Isabel could get the other side

Then Isabel was clutched by heavy hands and dragged unceremoniously to the street where her valiant

struggle to escape simply landed her flat on the paving only to be hauled to her feet by a pair of masked

These were the men meant by Ted's warning! Isabel could tell which was the leader though she couldn't see

his face. Curt Hulber was finding it convenient to keep his identity unknown, though he didn't mind voicing

"No use in going after Kelwood," gruffed Curt. "We don't have to croak him to keep his trap shut. Snatching

A blaze of light interrupted. It came with a roar as a cab bore down upon Curt, the mobbies, and Isabel, as

well. The girl gave a shriek when the headlights were almost upon her, and her cry seemed to make the cab

Actually, the cab driver had intended that jerky turn before reaching Isabel. His purpose was simply to scatter

Curt and most of his crew were on one side of the cab. Isabel and the two crooks who held her were on the

other. It was upon that side that a cloaked figure emerged from the cab itself; a long, blackclad form that

flung itself upon the thugs who held Isabel prisoner. Two slugging fists, weighted with automatics, beat down

The girl was free, foolishly starting back to the limousine, when Curt Hulber came around the rear of the cab

and met her with a swinging gun. Isabel tried to dodge; Curt caught her with his free hand. Just then he heard

a fierce, defiant laugh which told Curt something that he had not seen: namely, what had happened to his two

YANKING Isabel aside, Curt tossed her to the hands of other arrivals as he aimed for the fighter in black.

Curt was wise enough to dodge as he fired; otherwise the shot that came ahead of his would certainly have

Turning his dive into a sprawl, Curt didn't have time to aim again, for by then The Shadow was driving down

The thugs who gripped Isabel tried to intervene, hauling the girl with them. They saved Curt, for The Shadow

was more concerned about the girl. He made a slash at one crook which made the fellow release his grip.

Seizing the girl, The Shadow wrenched her from the clutch of the other. Spinning, he was back into the

shelter of the cab, blasting a shot that felled the first crook who tried to aim for him.

Isabel gave another shriek as she saw a man lunge across the hood of the cab, wielding a knife that had a

bulgy blade. It was Bolo, attempting a quick thrust at The Shadow, but again he was too late.

The Shadow was giving Isabel a lurch that sent her headlong through the open door of the cab, where she

The girl saw The Shadow taking a reverse twist as a knife whizzed past him. In lunging away from Isabel, he

had recoiled clear from the path of Bolo's hurl. At that, the knife should have come much closer than it did,

but The Shadow had received some special assistance. The aid was provided by Moe Shrevnitz, The

Leaning from the front seat, Moe had given Bolo a passing tap with a heavy monkey wrench. Isabel saw the

thug come reeling past the rear door. The Shadow did not pause to add a finishing touch. He had other

Making for the front of the cab, The Shadow opened fire across the hood at the cars which contained Curt's

Curt had enlarged his crew upon arrival in New York, but had kept a few of his cripples. They were in the

cars, serving as coverup men, and they were in goodenough condition to supply some marksmanship.

Moreover, they were desperate, for they were men who could not run, and therefore had to combat The

Shadow. But Curt, by that time, had decided that flight was a more preferable course than battle.

He was shouting for the cars to get started, and they did, with Curt and others boarding them as they went

past. Bolo managed to grab for a door and go away on the running board of the final car, men from within

Ordinarily, The Shadow would have followed, even though it would mean taking Isabel along as supercargo

Curt had abandoned some of his thugs, chiefly those that The Shadow had staggered. They were ready to

resume the combat, and The Shadow had to oblige them. He could not afford to let himself become a target

back in the cab with Isabel. Either he or the girl might get crippled while Moe was trying to get started.

It was better to draw all fire away from the cab which The Shadow did by weaving across the street, shooting

back at men who fired in his direction. His strategy promised a slow but effective elimination of the scattered

One was a police car with its crew. The other contained Vic Marquette and Stephen Kelwood, both with

guns. Therman was with them, but being weaponless, the secretary huddled in the back seat while his

NOT asking for quarter, mobsters didn't get it. They went down from their propping elbows, snarling as they

lost their falling guns. The only man who offered to surrender was a rather squatly fellow who wasn't

He darted suddenly from a doorway near a corner and tried to flee, but he was spotted by his lightgray suit.

Then, changing his mind, he opened fire with his gun as he dashed toward an alley across the street. There

was only one way to stop him with bullets. The Shadow let Marquette and the officers handle it which

they did too well. Their blazing shots stretched the graysuited fugitive on the curb, where his portly body

During that final spat, The Shadow reached the cab and drew Isabel from it. He started the girl toward the

limousine, where Randolph, coming out of his daze, saw her and started to open the door of the big car.

Stepping into the cab, The Shadow gave an order to Moe. The cab wheeled away, and above the spurt of its

motor came a parting tone, strange and sinister, which made fitting sequel to the ended gunfire.

It was the strange laugh of The Shadow, the token of a new triumph over men of crime.

Kelwood reached Isabel, found that she was unhurt. Her dark traveling dress was considerably rumpled, but it

had stood the strain of tugging hands. She was ready to go on to Gray Haven, but first she had something to

"They tried to kidnap me," said Isabel. "They were the men that Ted mentioned when he called. The ones that

Kelwood was nodding slowly; but Marquette, arriving at that moment, spoke bluntly.

"Lingle's advice didn't turn out so good," said Vic. "It kind of shoved you right into the middle of things,

"Which he didn't," Marquette interposed, "for a very good reason. He's mixed up in this thing himself. We've

had a report on him from New Jersey. Either he was trying to stage a highjack on his own or he's in the

"To alibi himself," retorted Marquette. "Not only for what happened earlier, but for this. He's shown himself

for what he is, Lingle has. The proof is the fact that he came to Kelwood's the other night not to see you, but

Isabel's eyes flashed with disbelief, nevertheless she could not criticize Marquette's bluntness. It was better,

she decided, that he should have told her what the law believed about Ted Lingle rather than try to keep her

"I'm afraid Marquette is right," said Kelwood. "Nevertheless, I shall remain openminded, Isabel. But tell me

"He wanted to go back and close the conservatory windows," explained Isabel. "I said it would be all right."

Therman, standing by, showed a smug smile at finding his story supported. Marquette gave Therman a steady

look, then he turned to view the body of the portly man in the gray suit which was not far away. Vic nodded

"Gorvey," he said. "He was the fellow who tried to snipe you, Mr. Kelwood. He must have cleared out before

SATISFIED that the unknown mob had fled to stay awhile, Marquette decided that Kelwood and Isabel could

go on to Gray Haven, taking Therman with them. He arranged to have a carload of Feds join them on the

The limousine started. Just around the corner, a cab was waiting. In the back seat was The Shadow. His

departure had been only temporary. Close at hand, The Shadow had listened in on recent discussions and then

He told Moe to trail the limousine until it met up with the convoy of Feds. After that The Shadow intended to

As he rode along, The Shadow considered many points, beginning with Ted's phone call; next the shot that

had been fired at Kelwood's study window; finally, the finding of Gorvey's body among the identified dead

Those details, plus certain actions such as those of Therman, brought a strangely whispered laugh from The

Shadow's unseen lips. What the laugh meant, only time and The Shadow could tell!

IF Ted Lingle hadn't tried to crack the counterfeit ring alone, there wouldn't have been any battle at the

railroad station in New Jersey, nor any attempts at murder or kidnapping in New York. Ted was somewhat

responsible for those occurrences, even though he did not bear the dye of crime that Vic Marquette supposed.

Those things seemed inconsequential, however, in the light of tremendous events that followed. In a way,

Ted was also responsible for crime's sequel and the nationwide furor that it created.

Vic Marquette had hoped to wait a week before making public the activities of the counterfeiting ring. He had

hoped, during that period, to get a direct lead to the culprits. When Ted bungled it, there was only one thing

Local Jersey authorities knew that Bleban and Brenlow had met their deaths in a mixup over money that had

come to them by express. The New York police wanted to know why masked men were riding rampant,

shooting through windows of homes like Kelwood's, and trying to kidnap girls like Isabel Parnal.

Newspaper headlines blazed with talk of counterfeit currency, bills identifiable by the fact that they had nine

serial numbers instead of eight. Onedollar bills, the kind most in circulation, that looked like real money but

were not. Bills so easily recognized once their flaw was known that there could not possibly be a mistake

All persons were informed that such currency was worthless; that even its possession could prove to be a

nuisance, since Feds were seeking, through those counterfeits, to check back to greengoods buyers.

The result of such broadcasts confounded Vic Marquette. He hadn't believed that he could touch off so much

Usually, counterfeit cash was detected before it spread too far. In this instance, the opposite was the case. The

racket wasn't just starting; it had actually passed its peak. Millions of ninenumber bills were in circulation,

Thanks to the greengoods system, Curt Hulber had made shipments everywhere, to hundreds of little men

The game consisted of examining dollar bills and counting the figures in their numbers. If there were only

eight such figures, the examiner could count himself in a dollar. If there were nine, the player was a dollar

People were literally matching the dollar bills in their own pockets to find out how much they could win or

lose. There was only one thing the loser could do tear up the phony bills and throw them away.

Most people made a show of it, for which they couldn't be blamed. Proprietors of stores and restaurants

opened their cash registers, took out the false bills and tore them up in the presence of customers. Men

walked along the street letting fragments of green paper trickle from their fingers, just to prove they did have

Not only in New York, but elsewhere, it was a common sight to see fluttering bits of socalled dollar bills in

gutters. College students pasted pieces of them to their cars; novelty shops stamped counterfeit dollars with

big letters that said, "Phony Phooey," then framed them and sold them for a dime, the cost of the frame, not

It was worse than the Wall Street crash of '29. Then, big investors had seen their wealth deflate. In this

instance, little people as well as big were met by a dwindling in what cash they had. It hurt the small man

most, for his cash was largely in dollar bills, and crooks had not counterfeited higher denominations.

NEVERTHELESS, the public took it cheerfully. All were in the same boat and had to make the best of it. For

awhile it threatened to be a national catastrophe. Rumors got about that there might be other styles of

With everyone turning to silver currency instead of dollar bills, the mint was overworked and couldn't supply

the demand. Dollar bills seemed jinxed, and the situation was really serious until a surprising solution offered

For years the public had hated twodollar bills, claiming that they signified bad luck. But that curse was

suddenly ended. Men who had twos were proud of them; they flourished batches of such bills, saying: "Bad

Banks warmed to the popular theme and began to put stacks of twos in circulation. Down in Washington, big

The stepchild of the monetary system, the hated twodollar bill had suddenly come into its own and was

favored above all. The "almighty dollar" had doubled up. Prices were quoted in terms of two dollars instead

of one. New words sprang into usage to define a twodollar bill. It was called a "double dollar," a "twin," and

When Ted Lingle read about it in the newspapers, he was amazed, but he wasn't pleased because his part in

the thing had been so big. Ted wished that he hadn't mixed in it at all. His own name was still in the

newspapers, somewhere around page ten, but it was mentioned too often even there.

The hunt was on for Ted Lingle. The Feds wanted to know why he had moved in on matters in New Jersey.

Witnesses had related how Ted had approached Bleban and said that he would take five hundred dollars in

No one in his right senses would have asked for counterfeit cash. There was only one answer: namely, that

Ted was crooked. He was branded as the scout of the counterfeiting ring, perhaps its real leader. For there

wasn't a doubt that Ted knew about the queer money. His visit to Kelwood's the night that Marquette had

Thus Ted's hopes had vanished. He felt he would never have a chance of collecting the reward of five

thousand "double dollars" ten thousand dollars, old style that the Feds were offering. Not unless he gave

himself up and proved that he was the not big shot of the phonymoney racket. He could do the first part, but

He and Ted were quartered in a little cabin in the woods not far from Gray Haven, the last vicinity where

anyone would look for Ted Lingle. The Shadow hadn't reproved Ted for making that phone call to Isabel.

He understood Ted's sentiments and made allowance for them. Furthermore, the call had proven a

boomerang, and Ted was thereby cured. He had promised absolutely to follow The Shadow's advice in the

It was The Shadow's claim that Curt Hulber and his crew might show up sooner or later. They still had their

feud with Stephen Kelwood, and with their racket broken, Curt might decide to settle the personal affair. On

TED would have felt a real enthusiasm had he known how close Curt Hulber and his crowd really were.

They were in Westford, a town of some twenty thousand population, no more than fifty miles from

Curt had opened a business in Westford. He was posing as a realestate promoter. Members of his crew who

looked respectable enough were supposed to be salesmen. Others, like Bolo, were listed as repair men, whose

On this evening, Curt was holding a conference in the room above the mainstreet office of the newly formed

Westford Development Co. He was reading them portions of a letter that he had received that afternoon, and

he was making up the gaps in his reading by bragging in a style that was distinctly his own.

"I'm the brain in this racket," boasted Curt, "and it's my business to see that the printers can turn out paper

that you fellows can shove. They tell me that they're all ready to have us meet the truck, like we used to."

There were mutters from the listeners. They could see no use in meeting the truck, now that the racket had

been ruined. Curt heard mention of Kelwood, and knew that his men were anxious to settle that score as a

"Forget Kelwood!" snapped Curt. "We'll handle him later if we have to, but maybe it won't be necessary. You

think I'm through shoving the queer? Not a chance! Listen: the way things have been going, it's all made to

"This letter from the printers gives us the dope. Never mind where they are; maybe I don't even want to know

myself. All that counts is what they tell me. They say they've made up some new stuff that will stand the test.

"We'll put it out on consignment, get the idea? Let the right customers try it and then pay up. They'll pay up,

"If you birds knew who these customers are going to be, and how much dough they're going to take, per

each" Curt was chuckling "well, you wouldn't want to argue about anything else."

Picking up his hat, Curt picked out a few members of his crew, Bolo among them, and told the chosen ones to

come along. They went out the back way and entered a sevenpassenger sedan, though there were only four

Picking back roads, Curt drove for an hour and finally pulled up in back of a deserted farmhouse.

A truck was waiting there. Its driver was a brawny man whose face was hidden under the visor of a cap. He

waved a shirtsleeved arm toward the truck. Curt ordered the crew to make the transfer. Soon the sedan was

so loaded with bundles that its passengers could hardly find room to seat themselves.

The truck driver waited for the sedan to wheel away, which was always his process. The idea suited Curt's

plans, for he wanted no one to know where the counterfeit currency came from. In fact, Curt argued that he

"Results are what counts," stated Curt. "We're going to get them. Crack open one of those bundles, Bolo, and

Curt heard the bundle crinkle open. He also heard the pleased ejaculations that came from the men in back.

The big shot grinned at himself in the car mirror as he swung the sedan along the road to Westford.

Whose idea the new game was, Curt did not say, though his men naturally assumed that credit belonged to

Curt himself. But that wasn't the reason why Curt was so pleased. He was thinking of the future, not the past.

The racket was off to a new start in a way that Curt was sure would thoroughly baffle the Feds and everyone

Ted Lingle sat on a rock, shielded by clumps of alder, and stared between the branches. He was looking

The cliff that the house occupied was famed in Indian legend from the days when Wilderness Lake had

actually been far off in the wilderness. Towering two hundred feet, the rock had been the suicide leap for

Indian chiefs whose tribes had repudiated them and for Indian princesses whose lovers had deserted them.

It was called Ledge Cliff because of the halfway mark in the mass of grayish granite that cascaded down from

the mass of green trees and blue sky above; and the ledge was the thing that had meant sure death to all who

took the leap. Chiefs and princess had taken severe bounces when they struck that ledge, and had scaled off to

Alfred Parnal, Isabel's father, had lessened the menace of the ledge by building his house upon it. Like the

rock on which it wedged, Gray Haven had the same color, gray, but of a darker hue. Hence its walls,

buttresses, and squatly towers were embossed upon the front of the cliff and made a grim but imposing sight.

It might have been carved from the living rock, Gray Haven. The house could be reached by a path up from

the south side of the cliff, but no other way. That path, Ted had learned from The Shadow, had been blocked

There were fissures in the rock on the north side above a little cove that lapped in from the lake, but the

cracks were too far apart for anyone to use them as a climbing method. Straight front, Gray Haven had an

outlook over the lake with a hundred feet of rock that was sheer, except for jagged projections near the

As for the cliff above, it was protected by a great picket fence that ran along the brink. Invaders would have

to get through that fence and slide down to the mansion. It was something that bold venturers might try, for it

was the route of least resistance; but, fortunately, the occupants of Gray Haven had foreseen the danger from

The fence was patrolled day and night by Feds that Vic Marquette had supplied. Watching from across the

lake, Ted could see tiny figures moving along the line of the fence and knew that watchers were on patrol.

Glumly, Ted arose and took a last look at Gray Haven in the afternoon sun. It wasn't any comfort to know

that Isabel was so close. She might as well be thousands of miles away as at Gray Haven, the place which

was so inaccessible. Ted had about given up hope of ever reaching the girl he loved and explaining the true

Of course, Ted could still count on The Shadow. But The Shadow wasn't at the hidden cabin when Ted

arrived there. In fact, The Shadow had been gone since last night, and the only explanation seemed to lie in

the stack of newspapers that the blackcloaked investigator had been reading before he left.

Those newspapers were lying open at the sporting pages. The racing season was at its height and, for some

reason, The Shadow was interested in the horses. Ted had never played the ponies but he understood that the

habit, once acquired, could seldom be shaken off. It seemed as if The Shadow had a weakness, after all.

Ted had to admit that the headlines were intriguing. For some reason, the public had gone mad over the races.

Perhaps people were trying to recoup their losses of counterfeit onedollar bills. At any rate, according to the

newspapers, the amounts bet on the parimutuels hadn't merely doubled during the past week; the total had

So The Shadow had gone to the races. Ted turned on the radio and decided to listen to the results to find out

THE real fascination of the racetrack couldn't be learned by radio. At the track itself, The Shadow was

studying the more intriguing features first hand. He was behind the grandstand, watching floods of men place

Of course, The Shadow wasn't cloaked in black. He was here in the guise of Lamont Cranston, a personality

which he frequently used. To all appearances he was a very prosperous individual whose hawkish features

When he wanted, The Shadow, as Cranston, could easily attract the usual racetrack touts who liked to give

tips on the ponies in return for a percentage of the gain. But today The Shadow was finding no luck.

The touts were too busy placing bets themselves. They were jostling to the windows, pushing money through,

and getting tickets in return. They were betting with twodollar bills, which was quite usual at racetracks;

and today, the twos were being flashed in abundance, probably because so much currency of that

Still, that did not explain the way the touts were betting. Slicing from window to window, the same men put

up new money on other horses. It wasn't logical the way they had gone wild. No one could beat the

parimutuels by betting on a dozen horses in one race. The machines were geared to take care of just such

By the time a man had placed a bet on every horse in a given race, he automatically made himself a loser.

He'd get back some of the money he put in, but the rest would be the percentage that the machines always

gobbled. But these fellows, who knew all about it, were trying to beat the robots at their own game.

Naturally, none were placing all their bets at the same window. They were spreading them and thereby

avoiding any suspicion from the cashiers, who were rushed to death and paying no attention to the faces that

Only The Shadow, who was neither giving money nor receiving it, had opportunity to check the situation in

its fullest. He stayed around the windows watching the men who placed their bets and when they came back

When the last race was over and dusk was settling over the track, The Shadow strolled out with the throngs.

Those men were agents of The Shadow; he was assigning them to trailing duty. The Shadow was pointing out

various touts and other betters who had been putting their money an every horse.

The trails separated, only to rejoin. When The Shadow reached the pretentious Turfview Hotel, a half mile

from the track, he was on the trail of a wizened tout who entered the lobby, gave a sneaky look about, and

By then others were coming in, tagged by The Shadow's agents. Signaling for his own men to leave, The

It was simply a case of checking them off when they went by, some two dozen of the betplacers, who had

gambled on whole stables instead of individual horses. By the time the last had come in, The Shadow went

up to the third floor himself, took a look along the hall, and saw the door where they went in and out.

Going up to the fourth floor, his own, The Shadow obliterated the guise of Cranston with a black cloak and

slouch hat. Looking through the window, he laughed softly at sight of thickening darkness. Stepping to a

IN a suite on the third floor, Tim Felbright, bigtime horse manipulator, was counting the afternoon's take.

Tim was a big bluff man who usually did things in a big way, and he was living up to form.

On his table were huge piles of money, mostly in fives, tens, and twenties. These were the payoffs on the

twodollar bets that the touts had placed that afternoon. Aided by a wisefaced exjockey named Dilk, Tim

"With a couple dozen guys pushing a few grand each," declared Tim, "this racket is good for pretty near fifty

"The main trouble is at the windows," continued Tim. "Even with me having the exclusive at this track, it

crowds a lot. But the boys are working faster than they did before. Tomorrow is the last day, but they ought

Tim nudged a heavy thumb to the corner where a stack of paperwrapped bundles lay. Dilk wasn't the only

person who looked in that direction. Other eyes saw the bundles eyes that peered in from the window: The

His count of the big bills finished, Tim turned to a heap of twos that the boys had brought back from the

track. He thumbed through them rapidly, keeping the green sides upward. He wasn't counting them; he was

studying some feature of the bills themselves and leaving the count to Dilk. There were some bills, mostly

"Got to weed these out," he grumbled. "Can't help it if some bounce back. It wouldn't do to let the boys have

the inside now. They think I'm just trying to figure out some way to beat the machines. So we'll let it go at

"Good enough." The counting finished, Tim took the profits in big bills and stowed the money in a large

Dilk opened them. Within, The Shadow saw stacks of twodollar bills, crisp and new, and all counterfeit! He

didn't have to examine the currency to know the answer. The Shadow had figured it beforehand.

Curt Hulber and his crowd were at work again, featuring a new issue. With onedollar bills disliked

throughout the country, the public had shown its preference for twos. So had Curt Hulber. He was shoving

the new counterfeits right down the alley that changed conditions had opened wide!

"A great idea, this!" spoke Tim Felbright, with a boom of approval. "We've got to give credit to the guy who

"He runs an outfit called the Westford Development Co.," said Dilk. "That's what the label on this package

Dilk tore the label from the package and applied a match to it. While the evidence was burning, Tim arranged

the fraudulent twodollar notes in little clumps to give to the touts when they came for them in the morning.

"Smart business," continued Tim in a reminiscent tone, "those guys sending me fifty grand of this queer on

consignment. What had I to lose? Nothing! After I shoved it, I paid up by sending them ten percent."

"Then I wouldn't have got another shipment," returned Tim. "It's the credit plan, same as big mailorder

houses are using. You get goods for a start. When you pay up, your credit is good again for the same

"But what about the last shipment?" queried Dilk. "This one, for instance. Suppose you leave them holding

"I could," nodded Tim, "but I won't. They've made theirs on half a dozen shipments, so it wouldn't hurt them

too much. But it might hurt me more. Suppose I want to pick up the racket where I left off at some other

"It's been highpressure stuff, Tim," he said. "Moving so fast, it kind of knocks the wind out of you. Like

giving some odd plug a speedball so he'll win a heat. Try that with a hay burner and you'll have the commish

on you. This racket broke well, but it's going to be tough when it hits the stretch."

"They're bound to," argued Dilk. "They, or somebody else. I'm getting the jitters, Tim, like any minute some

FROM the shape of Dilk's suddenly frozen lips, Tim thought that the laugh he heard was the exjockey's

imitation of the promised haha. Only it wasn't the sort of laugh that Dilk would give, and it didn't come

from the right direction. Those points came home to Tim as the mockery increased.

Strange, sinister, it seemed to permeate the entire room, creeping in from the walls, shuddering the

atmosphere as it did the listeners. Dilk was staring rigid at something that he saw, and Tim instinctively

In from the window, the cloaked invader held both Tim and Dilk covered with a single gun. They were

practically on a line, which made the action simple. The Shadow's other hand was reaching for the telephone

amid the bundles of counterfeit twodollar bills that were banked on Tim's table.

Tim was blundering forward, his hands half raised, his face purple. He wasn't offering fight; actually, he was

pleading. The accusing tone of The Shadow's laugh made Tim falter and drop his hands to the table edge,

which quivered under his shaky grasp. The Shadow's hand lifted from the telephone.

He didn't want to expose Tim Felbright's end of the new counterfeiting racket not yet.

The right system was to hold Tim helpless, and Dilk with him, while The Shadow followed up the Westford

clue. The simple way was to march Tim and his accomplice from the hotel and turn them over to his agents,

If The Shadow gave them hope, Tim and Dilk would do anything he wanted. That was why The Shadow

At that moment the door of the room swung inward. The Shadow hadn't heard its clatter because of Tim's cry.

In from the hall sprang two men, a pair of recruits who had learned that Tim wanted stooges to place bets for

him and were coming to sign up. They weren't the usual type of racetrack tipster; they were tougher.

They saw The Shadow and drove for him, only to dodge as he gestured with his gun. Big Tim suddenly sent

the table flinging forward and hurled his great bulk upon The Shadow. Tim's arms were wide, his hamlike

hands trying to clutch the blackclad challenger who threatened to expose his racket.

But The Shadow wasn't where Tim expected him to be. He was twisting away toward the window, not only

to avoid Tim's bulk, but to place the big man as a block between himself and the pair who charged in from

With Tim's surge, a revolver crackled; not just once, but three times in a row. The spurts came from a gun

that Dilk had yanked; the shots were meant for The Shadow, but did not reach him. Dilk, like Tim, had failed

to find The Shadow; but Tim, the closer, guessed the direction of the cloaked vanisher's fade.

That was why Dilk's last two shots found a mark in a target he didn't want: Tim Felbright. They couldn't miss

Tim's elephantine figure as the big man veered jerkily to change his lunge in The Shadow's direction. Arms

sprawling ahead of him, Tim struck the carpet, writhing amid the bales of counterfeit bills that he had

The men from the door stopped short. They saw that Tim's wounds were mortal. Dilk didn't wait to apologize

for his mistake. He darted for the door and reached it, thanks to the intervening men.

Shouts came from the hallway as Dilk fled, telling that he was spotted and that a chase was on. Rather than

stay and take the blame for Felbright's death, the two touts turned and fled, intending to join the pursuers who

Alone by the window, The Shadow saw Tim's prone figure give a last convulsion. With Tim dead and Dilk

gone, there was no one to testify as to the real graft behind Tim's betting activities. It might take days,

perhaps longer, for the police to uncover the counterfeit angle. The Shadow did not need days; hours were all

that he required to reach Westford and move in on Curt Hulber and his unsuspecting crew.

It was hundreds of miles to Westford, but The Shadow had a plane available and knew that he could find a

landing field near the town. Out through the window, down to the ground, The Shadow glided off through the

He was leaving the Turfview Hotel and the turmoil that Dilk's flight had caused. The Shadow, master of the

THE same dusk that marked The Shadow's meeting with Tim Felbright was bringing a new vigil to Gray

Haven. Until dark, The Feds kept merely casual watch; but at night they really patrolled the high fence on the

Nightfall was also the time when Vic Marquette arrived, not only to check on the sixman squad that he had

Gray Haven was a remarkable edifice. The ledge which supported it was not exactly flat; hence the structure

was buttressed all along its foundations. In those foundations were cellars, quite irregular, and on different

Alfred Parnal had been a collector of every type of rarity from Egyptian mummies to medieval silverware. He

had built Gray Haven to house his collections and knew that he would need storage room; hence the multiple

arrangement of the cellar chambers. Parnal's sudden death a few years ago had ended the whole plan.

Most of his collections had gone to museums. Gray Haven, still uncompleted, had become a white elephant

on the hands of the estate, which was managed by Stephen Kelwood. To help things along and bolster up the

investments that Parnal had made for his daughter Isabel, Kelwood had tried to rent the house on the ledge.

Failing to find regular tenants, Kelwood had rented it to himself at intervals and had kept the place in good

So much for the cellars. Marquette had gone through them, found them spickandspan. No one could hide

in the empty cellars, and reaching them seemed an impossible task. Some of the cellars had windows, but

As for the mansion proper, it was divided into two sections. The front portion had two complete floors. On

the first was a library, wellstocked with books that Parnal had collected and kept. Next to the library, but not

connected with it, was a room which Kelwood used as a study whenever he resided at Gray Haven.

Knowing that he would have to stay at Gray Haven indefinitely, Kelwood had sent to New York for his files

The second floor front had bedrooms, and the present occupants were Kelwood; his secretary, Therman;

Isabel and her maid, Celeste. As for the rear section of the house, it quartered Brackley, the caretaker, and a

few helpers who acted as servants; two handy men and a woman cook. Randolph, Kelwood's chauffeur, lived

in the servants' quarters whenever he was at Gray Haven. Marquette had gone through these quarters with

Brackley himself was a find. He was a squarebuilt man, husky, as well as efficient. He knew the house and

its surroundings and was a great help when it came to posting the Feds. Brackley fixed up some of the

unfinished thirdfloor rooms into lodging quarters for Vic's squad and saw to it that they were comfortable.

Thus, with Gray Haven itself quite shipshape, Marquette was able to concentrate on other things.

ON this visit, Marquette found Isabel in the library, mulling through the many books which it contained in its

Returning to the hallway, Vic stopped at Kelwood's study and knocked on the door. He was admitted by

Kelwood was at the desk in the center of the room. In front of him lay currency of various denominations

specimens of genuine money that Marquette had brought on his last visit. Kelwood was holding a

microscope, which he laid aside to rise and shake hands with Marquette. Therman, meanwhile, stood by,

"Get back to work, Therman," Kelwood ordered. "You have much to do. While we are here, I intend to

"I've done most of it, sir," returned Therman. "The estate shows an increase of more than twenty thousand

"But how much more?" queried Kelwood. "I want you to detail it to the last penny, Therman. I intend to

"The records show that you have," declared Therman. "I can give you the figures of what is already owing to

"They can wait until all is settled," stated Kelwood. "I can then pay Miss Parnal the entire amount. All the

more reason, Therman, why you should return to your work. There are other estates that must be broken up

and liquidated. The sooner the better, because then everyone will know how well I have managed them."

Drably, Therman went back to the files, but he kept stealing sly glances toward Kelwood and Marquette as

they chatted at the desk. Therman, it seemed, was quite as interested in their discussion as in the work that

The discussion concerned the bank notes that Marquette had brought earlier for Kelwood's examination.

"We haven't forgotten how you spotted the phony dollar bills," declared Marquette. "You've built yourself a

"And this, I suppose," smiled Kelwood, waving his hands toward the money on the desk, "is the result of it?"

"That's right," affirmed Marquette. "The way those ones swept the country, we're afraid that the counterfeiters

are slipping something past us in the higher bills. If they are, we want to nail them."

"They haven't tried it so far," Kelwood declared emphatically. "I have gone over these samples in

Marquette was more than pleased; he was enthused. The opinion of an expert like Kelwood was exactly what

the Treasury Department wanted. Vic waited until Kelwood had gathered up the questionable bills, arranging

them in rotation from fives and tens up to denominations as high as a thousand dollars. Then Marquette

Wearily, Kelwood sat back in his chair. Then, with a smile, he obligingly took the bills that Marquette

Marquette was pleased by the meticulous care that Kelwood displayed, and the nods satisfied him, too. Each

"Haven't you any cash of your own?" Kelwood asked. "After all, if counterfeits have been put in circulation,

MARQUETTE pulled some bills from his trousers pocket and tossed them on the desk. There were three

fives among them, and a ten. The rest were twos, which Marquette retained and folded to replace in his

"Nothing is the matter with them," returned Marquette. "They're twodollar bills, the old jinx money that's

become everybody's sweetheart. Do you know, there was always one thing good about twodollar bills in the

old days. Nobody wanted them, so nobody faked them. Deuces always rated high with the Treasury

Department on that account. But the way they're printing them off now, they're getting to be a headache."

"The old days," quoted Kelwood. "You mean last month, before the counterfeit cyclone blew so many

He paused, reached his other hand to take the bills that Marquette was folding away. Vic gave them up,

"I hadn't thought of it before," asserted Kelwood. "There were no twos among the bills you brought me, and

naturally there wouldn't be. No one would have counterfeited twos in the old days. But these are new days,

"Twodollar bills have come into their own. Vast numbers of them are being put in circulation daily; all new

notes, crisp and fresh, the kind that counterfeiters prefer to imitate. Suppose that these particular

counterfeiters guessed or foresaw the popularity that twos would gain. They might have provided for it in a

Kelwood was laying Vic's bills sidebyside. There were six of them and Kelwood used his microscope to

compare them. He saw no differences in the portraits of Jefferson, nor any variance in the signatures or other

details of engraving. Turning the bills over, Kelwood examined the green sides; then laid away his

Stopping as he pickled up the bills, Kelwood stared. He was looking at the engravings of a mansion that

appeared upon the reverse of the bills. The mansion was Monticello, Jefferson's home. It showed four front

pillars over its colonial portico, with two others in the background. That is, there should have been two pillars

in the background. But on some of Marquette's bills the rear pillar at the left was missing!

So conspicuous was the difference that Kelwood had skipped right over it with the microscope. It was the sort

of error that would only be noted at longer range. Even then, at straight sight, the picture of Monticello

looked quite normal, despite the missing pillar. Comparison alone could make it stand out. Kelwood

He showed the pair to Marquette and pointed out the difference. Vic came bounding to his feet like a man

gone mad. The queermoney racket was at work again right under the law's nose. It left Marquette quite

"These couldn't have gone into circulation until recently," Kelwood argued. "As you have said, twodollar

bills weren't popular enough. It must all have started within the past ten days."

Kelwood shook his head. The answer was outside his province. It was a riddle that Marquette could better

"It can't be!" Marquette exclaimed. "They couldn't have started the greengoods stunt working again so soon;

not after what happened to those servicestation guys. It doesn't make sense unless they found some way to

AGAIN Marquette was thinking of the old days, and this time the error was in his favor. He remembered

places where the twospots had once been popular; where Vic himself had seen them in abundance.

"Except at racetracks!" Marquette shouted. "That's where they could shove them! Say they've just been

winding up the season with the biggest week they've ever known! I was reading about it " Vic stopped to

look for a newspaper; seeing none, he queried: "Where's the radio, Mr. Kelwood?"

The radio was in the library. Kelwood accompanied Marquette out through the hall, and when they reached

Muttering as he thumbed the dials, Marquette found it was too late to get the racing results, but he finally

muddled into a news broadcast and stayed with it on the chance that he might hear something important. Vic

"Big Tim Felbright is dead," spoke the news announcer. "Noted sporting man and big plunger, he was slain

on the eve of what promised to be another cleanup. Noted for the huge bets he placed, Big Tim was trying

"He was found in his room at the Hotel Turfview, almost buried in layers of twodollar bills that he intended

to parcel out to his workers before tomorrow's races. All week he was playing the same mystery game, aided

The theme switched. Marquette cut off the radio and made for the telephone. He put through a longdistance

They took Marquette's word for who he was and examined the twodollar bills at his request. Hearing the

Shooting questions again, Marquette kept the police busy. Vic wanted to know a lot of details that didn't

make sense to them; things about Felbright that couldn't have anything to do with his murder. Such things, for

He learned that Felbright had received goods by express and had mailed out several packages by parcel post.

One of the bellboys happened to remember the address of a package, for he had taken it to the post office.

"That's it," asserted Marquette when he hung up the receiver. "Tim wasn't buying real estate. He was shipping

cash, good cash, for more loads of the queer. That town of Westford isn't much over fifty miles from here.

Kelwood agreed that it was. Isabel, however, was apprehensive when Marquette stated that he intended to

take most of his squad along with him. She asked what would happen at Gray Haven if crooks came and

"I'll leave two men," promised Marquette. "One up by the fence and one in here."

"Brackley can help patrol the fence," assured Kelwood, "and we can depend upon Therman as an inside

Therman showed a smile as he received the assignment, and Isabel did not like the secretary's sly expression.

Mentally, however, she conceded that Therman, if loyal, would certainly make a good watcher. The trouble

was, she questioned his loyalty; nevertheless, since Kelwood was satisfied, Isabel had to pretend that she was,

"If we get to Westford first," he said, "we'll have a chance of trapping that outfit before they can start

anywhere else. After that, neither of you" he was looking from Kelwood to Isabel "will have anything

The Feds had assembled. Vic Marquette left with the four that he had chosen. They took the barred path

down from Gray Haven to the place where they kept their cars along the lakeshore. They left in haste, for

A TINY light was blinking from a special shortwave radio set that The Shadow had left with Ted Lingle.

Putting on earphones, Ted thumbed the dial until he heard a chatter that sounded like a monkey cage in a

menagerie. Noting the number on the dial, Ted turned another knob to match it, then pressed the button.

The voice became clear above a very slight whir within the shortwave set. The device was equipped with a

mixer and only by operating the special apparatus attached to this set could the voice be brought through. Ted

Ted knew about Burbank. He was The Shadow's contact man who relayed special orders when needed. It

wasn't important to know where Burbank was calling from; the thing to do was listen to the instructions and

They were clear enough. Ted was to leave the cabin, pick up his car from a clearing a half mile away, and

drive to an airport near a town called Westford. There he would meet The Shadow.

The orders were repeated in case Ted hadn't heard them the first time. Since they included the word

"immediately," Ted assumed, quite correctly, that Burbank had waited until a set time before calling.

Evidently The Shadow had gauged Ted's driving speed in relation to the roads around Westford.

Why Westford was important, Ted did not know. His best guess was that it had something to do with Curt

Hulber and the band who peddled the counterfeit cash. And again Ted had made a correct surmise.

IN Westford, Curt and his company were assembled in their usual council room above the fake realestate

office. They were talking over something that they had heard by radio the same news flash that had

impressed Vic Marquette with its report of Tim Felbright's death. Worried mutters were passing among the

"What difference does it make?" he sneered. "All we lose is the payoff on the last shipment that Tim got. We

stood to lose that anyway if he didn't want to come through. Five out of six is a goodenough average."

By the light of a desk lamp, Curt referred to a little book that he took from his pocket.

"We've got about twenty other customers like Tim," he declared, "and they've averaged better than twenty

grand apiece in real dough. Half of that is ours; the other half goes to the guys who print the paper for us.

The listeners agreed. The division of a quarter million was something that pleased them. The other half had

gone out the night before when Curt met the truck again and brought in a new supply of counterfeit twos.

At present, there were two stacks of bundles in the room, both large. In one pile, uniformly wrapped, were

false twodollar bills intended for new shipment. The other bundles, more loosely arranged, contained the

Curt had a way of holding back on payments. It kept his followers whetted for the future. He was able to

Privately, Curt told his veterans that it wouldn't look right to pay them off too quickly, while getting the

confidence of the recruits. To the newcomers he implied that he couldn't hand them cash right at the start

because the regulars would object. Thus did Curt keep all his followers satisfied to some degree.

In fact, they would have been satisfied at present except for their worry over the matter of Tim. Curt decided

"Most of the big tracks are closing," he stated. "The cream is off the game, but we ought to stick and try the

He finished with a glare meant for certain members of the crew. Still posing for their benefit, Curt pulled a

"D'you know why they call me Curt?" he queried. "It's short for Curtains. That's what I give lugs I don't like

curtains! I'm kind of noisy sometimes, but when I don't like noise I leave it to Bolo."

He gestured to Bolo as he spoke and the ugly crook produced his big knife with the same flourish that Curt

"There's a moniker that's short and plain," approved Curt. "Bolo. That's what they call the knife, and the same

Revolver and knife went back to their respective pockets. Curt began to speak in a milder tone.

"Another week of this," he said, "and I might even forget Kelwood. He queered the other racket for us, but

not until the tail end. If he queered this one right now, he'd be too late to spoil the best part of it. But since we

"He and the dame don't matter much. Neither does that Lingle gink. He's sort of a fall guy, the way he's got

the Feds looking for him instead of us. But I'm telling you this: No matter how things go, I'll have an answer.

"One reason we came here was to get close to Kelwood, and I can move in closer if I want to. So close that

we'll be sitting in Kelwood's lap; me on one knee with a gat and Bolo on the other with his dirk.

"But who's going to bother us? Not Kelwood, nor the Feds, either. Why, this town's so quiet you could hear

AS if to illustrate his point, Curt paused. The others, listening, could hear motors from the highway that

passed the town. From somewhere they caught a faint thrum that sounded like an airplane passing over

Chuckling, Curt went to the corner that contained the counterfeit money and began to toss the bundles around

so that others could address them. Presumably these were circulars being sent out to customers by the

There was an odd bundle left when the others were addressed. It would ordinarily have been labeled to Tim

Felbright, but his name was now off the list. Curt was tossing the bundle to one side when he heard a cautious

"Some guys snooping around," a voice informed. "They ain't townies, and none of 'em look like tinstars.

"Get downstairs," he told his men. "Behind the desks and those file cabinets the way we practiced it. Let them

come in, then pop out on them. They can come upstairs if they want. Bolo and I will be waiting for them."

As the thugs started downstairs, Curt stepped to a rear corner of the room, drew back a window shade a trifle,

and took a look at the low roof of a shed next door. He could see the ground, too, because some new building

No one was in sight, and considering the distance from the window to the shed, Curt decided that anybody

With the rest downstairs, Curt left the room lighted and motioned Bolo out to the landing. Curt set the door a

trifle ajar so that the light would serve as bait; then, drawing Bolo farther back, Curt found enough darkness

They could hear the sounds of men, entering, and Curt could tell that there were not many. He whispered that

fact to Bolo, beside him. Both faced the stairs to listen, still keeping back from the narrow wedge of light that

Suddenly Curt stared. The wedge of light had widened. He looked at Bolo, saw that his companion was close

"Don't shove the door," undertoned Curt. "We don't want too much glim out here."

"I ain't showing it," retorted Bolo. "I'm outside, ain't I? It's in the room, and I'd have to reach to push it."

Curt pointed to the illuminated strip on the landing. It had widened farther, and as he and Bolo stared they

Suddenly alarmed, Curt came to his feet and Bolo swung up with him. The clatter that they made defeated

He was no longer hidden. With a final sweep, he had brought the door fully open with his elbow and was

covering the two crooks with a pair of guns. The only darkness that remained on the landing was that cast by

NO laugh came from the cloaked arrival's hidden lips. This was a time for silence, for in trapping Curt and

Why the rest should be downstairs was something seemingly unimportant. It happened that The Shadow,

coming from the back, had missed any indications of stealthy entrants from the front.

The Shadow was not alone. At his whisper, Ted Lingle stepped into sight. Curt saw the simple but effective

They had come by the shed, and the gap between it and the window had proven no problem at all. They had

brought up some of the loose boards from the ground and silently placed them as a bridge.

Withdrawing to let Ted pass, The Shadow told his companion to disarm Curt and Bolo. An easy thing for Ted

to do while backed by The Shadow. He could then keep both men covered while The Shadow went

downstairs and checked up on the other crooks which would prove a very unpleasant proceeding for them.

Never before had The Shadow arranged such a perfect setup, only to have it ruined by the mistake of

There was a click of a light switch below, a blaze of glare that filled the realestate office. With it came

shouts, and sounds of a wild scramble. It was Vic Marquette who had turned on the lights, but his Feds

weren't the only ones who raised the commotion. Curt's crew, springing from their hiding places, were in on

Guns ripped wildly as Ted, turning instinctively, saw men springing to the stairs from below. They weren't

crooks who were coming his direction; he recognized Vic Marquette at the head of a band of Feds. Vic saw

The Feds drove upward, partly at Vic's order, partly to shake off the mobsters below. If Ted had left the

situation to The Shadow, it might have been redeemed, for The Shadow was making the right move.

Cloaking one gun, he had caught Ted with his free hand to haul him into the upstairs office; while, with the

gun he still held, The Shadow was prepared to clip Curt and Bolo before they could get into action.

Jerking from The Shadow's clutch, Ted started to wave his gun while shouting to the Feds:

The gesture wasn't understood; the cry was drowned by the roar of guns as the Feds opened fire at Ted, the

man they thought they wanted. Curt and Bolo flattened to escape the bullets and they expected Ted to come

toppling their way as a shield. The reason Ted didn't was because The Shadow hooked him bodily and rolled

Fortunately, the Feds had hurried their first shots, which enabled The Shadow to get Ted away in time.

From the room came The Shadow's laugh, which the Feds took as an encouragement in their dash to overtake

Ted. Actually, the mockery was a reminder to Curt and Bolo that The Shadow could still handle them. It held

them back until the Feds were full upon them. Then the pair sprang to grapple with the men from the stairs.

Marquette shoved Curt's gun aside, while another Fed took a grip on Bolo's knife hand. The pair lunged

frantically, starting their opponents back down the stairs. They needed the Feds as shields against The

Their drive succeeded; by bowling two Feds against the others, they started a pellmell tumble down the

EXTINGUISHING the light in the upper room, The Shadow sprang out to the landing. He had made it dark,

but he could see the crooks at the bottom of the stairs because the lights were on below.

Crooks couldn't shoot, for Curt and Bolo were howling for them to lay off rather than be made targets with

the Feds. Similarly, The Shadow couldn't risk shooting at the strugglers on the stairs.

Instead, he took a high step to a rail at the stair top, gave himself a cross lift to press his free hand on the wall

at the other side. From that elevation, The Shadow ripped shots above the heads of the tumbling mixup to

One of that group sprawled, another staggered. All heard The Shadow's laugh accompanying the blast of his

Crooks fled, and as they went, one snapped off the lights. The darkness ended The Shadow's chance to

continue the fray. He heard shouts from below, followed by gunfire, and knew that Curt and Bolo had

The Feds were doing the shooting, but they only followed to the outer door. Telling the rest to keep firing

By then, The Shadow was in the room using a flashlight to find that Ted was missing. The Shadow had not

It wasn't cowardice on Ted's part, as The Shadow was to learn. Following through the window, The Shadow

There he saw Ted dashing toward some departing cars. Gun in hand, Ted was going after the thugs alone.

They weren't bothering to shoot back, which proved to Ted's disadvantage. It made him look as though he

They opened a barrage in his direction and sent him dodging for shelter that he never could have reached

except for The Shadow's intervention. The Shadow intervened by stabbing shots around the doorway where

the Feds were. The clatter of plateglass windows sent them into cover, enabling Ted to rejoin The Shadow.

It was too late to explain things. Introducing Ted to the Feds wasn't on The Shadow's calendar unless he had a

few captive crooks on hand to spout the name of their real leader, Curt Hulber. Nor would The Shadow's own

position be too enviable if the Feds found that he alone had slowed their effort to prevent a getaway of

Shoving Ted into his car, The Shadow took the wheel and drove off into the night. The delay, though short,

was costly, for there was no longer a chance of tagging Curt and his escaping band.

Nevertheless, The Shadow laughed. His whispered mirth carried a significance that Ted Lingle understood.

The Shadow was still confident of settling scores with crime in a way that would free Ted of complicity.

How that could be accomplished was beyond Ted Lingle. Yet, low though his hopes had sunk, The Shadow's

EACH day had grown long for Isabel Parnal. Despite the comfort and security of Gray Haven, she considered

herself about the most unfortunate girl in the world. The law's gain had been Isabel's loss.

It didn't matter to her that Vic Marquette and his Feds had driven unknown counterfeiters into deeper hiding,

acquiring a few hundred thousand dollars in real cash, along with stacks of evidence in the form of fraudulent

What mattered to Isabel was the fact that Ted Lingle stood branded as the one known man, and probable

leader, of the counterfeit tribe. She couldn't believe it, but no one else felt as she did, not even Stephen

This evening, Isabel was talking to Kelwood in his study. The grayhaired man shook his head when the girl

"I should like to share your confidence in young Lingle," Kelwood declared. "Unfortunately the evidence is

"I agree." Kelwood nodded. "But when such evidence repeats itself it becomes very strong. Nevertheless, I

should be willing to listen to Lingle's story and give it credence if he could show facts to support his

"He's trying to produce facts," insisted Isabel. "Facts in the form of those crooks that the government wants.

It's plain to me, Mr. Kelwood. Can't you see that Ted is trying to do the one thing that would clear him; that

he's out to capture the counterfeiters? That's why he was in the fight in New Jersey. It's why he appeared in

"An interesting theory, Isabel," said Kelwood. "I hope it's correct. I shall mention it to Marquette when he

Isabel arose and opened the door. She paused, listening to creaky sounds in the hall. Therman's snoopy steps;

Isabel threw a quick glance to the desk, hoping that Kelwood would hear the steps, too, but the grayhaired

man had started to look through stacks of papers on his desk and was engrossed in that work.

At that moment, Therman's sneaky steps changed to brisk ones. The smug secretary appeared at the door

itself as though he had come all the way along the hall instead of doing a sudden turnabout. In his oily style,

Isabel gave Therman an accusing look that she hoped Kelwood would understand. But there wasn't any

suspicion in Kelwood's eyes when he looked Therman's way. It happened that Kelwood had been expecting

"Marquette will be here shortly," Kelwood told Therman. "I want you to meet him at the barred gate and

Therman turned and went away. Coming to the door, Kelwood placed his hand on Isabel's shoulder.

"I shall speak to Marquette," he said. "But I am sure it will be useless. He has other things on his mind. Twice

now I have detected counterfeit currency that was being foisted on the public. As a result, I have been

recognized as an outstanding expert on the subject. My advice is being asked on all matters pertaining to

"A few nights ago Marquette left these with me" Kelwood stepped to the desk and produced some

onedollar bills of a style that Isabel had never seen before "specimens of a new currency issue that is to

"I have approved them, and Marquette is bringing other samples for further inspection. There is one way

whereby counterfeiting can be defeated: that is to recall the currency frequently and replace it with money of

From her window she could see the lake below the cliff, and the glisten of the water allured her. She no

longer wondered why the legendary Indian princesses had taken that leap. Perhaps if one kept the water in

However, Isabel did not jump. She decided that bed would be more comfortable and was tucking herself into

it when a hopeful thought struck her. There might be an argument that would influence Vic Marquette. That

If Vic became suspicious of the secretary, as Isabel was herself, he might listen to reason regarding Ted.

Putting on a fluffy negligee and pair of highheeled slippers, Isabel started downstairs. She was just in time.

Marquette had finished a brief visit with Kelwood and was about to leave. He had come from the study and

was closing the door behind him when he heard the clatter of Isabel's high heels.

To avoid further noise, Isabel stayed where she was, and Marquette approached the beckoning vision. Sitting

"It's Therman," she said. "I don't trust him. After all, Mr. Marquette, he knew before Ted did that you were

Marquette grunted. He caught the idea. Isabel was trying to alibi her boyfriend.

"That night in New York," Isabel reminded, "when someone almost killed you instead of Mr. Kelwood.

"But Therman didn't hold you back. What's more, he left the conservatory windows open so that man Gorvey

could go through. He slid out of the limousine, too, just before men tried to kidnap me."

"Which is exactly what you've built against Ted," flashed Isabel. "If you apply it in one case, why not in the

other: I'm not accusing Therman, you understand. I just want you to know, though, that he's the world's

Suddenly, Isabel gripped Vic's arm. She was seated on the steps, staring downward, while Vic, standing a few

steps below, was facing her. Vic turned; like Isabel, he saw projected blackness on the floor.

It was moving, and it made Vic think of The Shadow, the cloaked intruder who might be anywhere. But The

As the streak moved away, both Vic and Isabel heard a creeping sound, a token of stealth that wasn't

perfected. It was the girl who recognized the tread and spoke in a positive whisper that convinced Marquette.

"Just outside the library," undertoned Vic. "I thought he'd gone down to the gate. Maybe he sneaked into the

library instead and thinks I'm still in the study. Wait, let's hear if he goes there."

Those whispers could have carried, for the stairs were something of a sound box. Therman's footsteps halted,

"He's wise," declared Marquette. "He's either sneaking down the hall or back into the library. Come on!"

ISABEL sprang to her feet as Marquette started. Her clattering heels echoed Vic's thumping strides. They

were too late to see Therman, but there were only two places where he could have gone: down the hall or into

There was a turn at the end of the short hall. Vic reached it, looked past the bend. If Therman had gone that

way, he had reached the stairs beyond. A chase would only bring Vic to the gate below, where Therman was

Remembering the library, Vic decided it was a better bet, particularly as he was worried about Isabel. If

Dashing back to the library, Marquette found Isabel there. She was standing in the center of the room, and

"Not a word to the fellow," he confided. "You keep tabs on him, Miss Parnal, but don't go banging around in

high heels like those. They were the giveaway. If there's any trouble, tell my men. When I get down to the

They were at the library door. From across the hall, Kelwood opened the door of the study and peered out, his

Isabel slid herself into Marquette's arms, much to Vic's astonishment. Nevertheless, he played his part well

or, rather, Isabel did for him. It might have been the snuggle of her shoulders that attracted Vic's hands so

spontaneously. It made an excellent tableau, as though Vic were actually soothing a rather frightened but

"I tripped coming downstairs," spoke Isabel. "Because of these high heels" she was extending one foot

toward Kelwood, leaning more on Vic as she spoke "and Mr. Marquette caught me. I... I'm rather out of

Kelwood suggested that Isabel come into the study, so Marquette guided her there. The three were chatting,

and Isabel seemed quite herself again when Therman appeared suddenly at the door to find out what had

"I was afraid something had happened," said the secretary, glancing anxiously from one person to another. "I

haven't forgotten what you told me, Mr. Kelwood that we are under greater threat than ever since you have

"No need to worry, Therman," gruffed Marquette. "Miss Parnal just had a slight fall coming downstairs. As

for those crooks we're after, they're five hundred miles from here by this time. If they're out for vengeance,

Vic went along with Therman, chatting pleasantly all the way to the gate. Going down the path, he reached

his car, where other Feds were waiting. These were new men, additions to the squad already on duty.

"I want you fellows to patrol the path," Marquette told them. "Keep a close watch on that gate. We're not

going to let anybody pull an inside job on us. I'll be back tomorrow to stay awhile. Trouble may be a lot

TROUBLE was closer than Marquette thought. As he drove his car along the shore, he passed a side road that

Men, peering from the brush, glimpsed Vic's swarthy face as he drove by. They slid back to a car of their

Curt Hulber was at the wheel of the silent car. He continued to coast until Vic's motor had faded ahead, then

Curt let his own car come into gear. Curt's own voice was a purr, much like that of the idling motor, as he let

"We're going back to the cave," said Curt to the men with him. "This route is no good. We'll have to use the

"With the Feds and the fence," spoke one of Curt's companions, "it's going to be tough."

"Not very," retorted Curt. "Marquette can't figure that we're around here or he wouldn't be driving off alone. I

told you that the smart stunt was to get as close as we could to Gray Haven. This is the one territory where

"Those Feds on the fence are watching for snoopers, not for a mob. We'll land on them like a ton of bricks,

get through the fence, and go down over the edge with ropes. Some of you guys can go into town in the

morning and buy the ropes at different places. Because we're going after Kelwood tomorrow night."

The car's speed had increased. Darting a look back from the mirror, Curt made sure that no other machine

That laugh wasn't echoed. It was revoked by a strange tone in the darkness; mirth so low that it did not reach

the ears of Curt Hulber and his companions. The lowvoiced mockery came from back near the forgotten

Unlike the law, The Shadow had no doubts as to the whereabouts of Curt Hulber and his band. For the past

few days he had been scouring the region around Wilderness Lake to gather facts regarding them. Though

just too late to uncover Curt's car on this occasion, The Shadow could piece the things that Curt had said.

The Shadow knew that crooks would forego the pathway route. As for coming up from the lake front to reach

Gray Haven, they would regard it as impossible because of the sheer cliff. That left but one choice: the route

Having divined the plan of Curt Hulber, The Shadow would be ready to meet the threat of vengeance!

IT was late afternoon, and a light was burning in the little cabin where The Shadow and Ted Lingle were

quartered. The light was needed because the cabin was deep in the woods and had very small windows, hence

Under the light, The Shadow and Ted were studying a map of the territory around Gray Haven.

On the contour lines that represented a hillside a few miles away, The Shadow rested a pencil point. Ted

knew what it meant: the location of the cave where Curt Hulber and his outlaws had their present

"They move tonight," spoke The Shadow in a low, even tone. "They will come here" he moved his pencil

Ted knew how The Shadow had acquired the information. Not only had The Shadow covered the terrain; his

agents were posted hereabouts. Ted had met only one of The Shadow's agents, a keen young chap named

Harry Vincent. If the rest came up to Harry's caliber, they must be a dependable band indeed.

From a town near Gray Haven, agents had reported that mobsters were buying rope, which fitted with The

How The Shadow had picked midnight as the zero hour was something of a mystery, but Ted assumed that

the cloaked investigator had gone to the cave the night before and overheard some talk among guards posted

In fact, while Ted was so thinking, The Shadow mentioned the cave itself. He brought out a lot of yellowed

"The cave is not unusual," The Shadow said. "It is but one of many in this area, and Curt Hulber chose it

merely for convenience. It is an impregnable place, for it can be reached only through cracked openings in

"Exactly!" There was mirth in The Shadow's whisper. "It is probable that there is a cave beneath Gray Haven,

though no one has uncovered it. We might term it a grotto rather than a cave, since it probably contains

Ted's interest increased, particularly when The Shadow began to spread the clippings. They were from old

newspapers, and they mentioned legends of Wilderness Lake. Reading them, Ted was highly impressed.

One told of the mysterious Indian chief, Selango, who had appeared one night of the full moon upon the

ledge where Gray Haven now stood. Another mentioned an early settler who, while paddling along the lake,

Referring to the map again, The Shadow checked the cove near the foot of the cliff below Gray Haven. Ted

remembered it as a wooded spot where bushy foliage seemed to cling to the water's edge.

"This could be the entrance to the grotto," stated The Shadow. "If the grotto exists, the Selango legend

indicates that there are fissures from it up to the ledge. The story of the settler may mean that the way into the

grotto is above water level at some periods of the year. It happens that the lake is at its lowest point at

TED'S heart jumped. This promised the very thing he wanted a way to get into Gray Haven. Once there, he

could talk to Isabel, assure her of his innocence and enlist her aid toward clearing him with the law.

Then Ted steadied. The choice wasn't his. It belonged to The Shadow. Though Ted didn't realize it, keen eyes

were watching his facial expression. Away from the lamplight, The Shadow used that mode of observation

often. He read Ted's thoughts on this occasion as plainly as if the young man had expressed them.

The Shadow pushed the yellow clippings aside and spread more recent ones upon the table. They had to do

with Gray Haven itself, for they were newspaper stories dating from the time when Alfred Parnal had begun

"The Parnal estate includes considerable acreage above the cliff," remarked The Shadow. "The fence along

the brow is not the boundary. It was placed there simply to keep marauders from the mansion where Parnal

Ted nodded. How useful that barrier had become! It was sheltering Parnal's daughter, at present, instead of

the vanished collections. Yet the great fence itself would prove inadequate tonight, even with Feds on guard,

unless The Shadow took steps to meet the massed invasion of criminals bent on vengeance; which they

"This clipping is interesting," resumed The Shadow. "It mentions what Parnal termed the 'Summit House,'

which he intended to build back from the cliff. At a high elevation it would have afforded a full view of the

"You will note that the foundations of the Summit House were actually laid. They are concrete and include a

cellar with low walls that rise a few feet above ground level. The foundations were boarded over at the time

of Parnal's death. Most of the boards are gone, but the foundations remain intact."

It occurred to Ted that The Shadow must have paid a visit to the uncompleted Summit House. Picturing the

"That is why I mentioned them," returned The Shadow. "Before midnight you are to go there and join my

Producing a flashlight, The Shadow gave a series of repeated blinks, which Ted checked mentally. Ted was

enthused over The Shadow's plan of putting a small but capable squad in a stronghold from which all of Curt

When The Shadow marked the position of the Summit House upon the map, Ted was even more elated.

By flanking out from their citadel, The Shadow's men could force Curt's band to take the route between as the

easiest way of escape. It would bring them squarely against the old foundations, which they had never heard

By then The Shadow's agents, Ted with them, could be back behind their bulwark, ready to stop the fleeing

The Shadow, however, had no intention of counting unhatched chickens. He had finished discussing the plan

of battle, which circumstances might change. Looking from the window, he noted that the dusk had

"There is much time before midnight. This will be our last opportunity to search for the grotto."

THEY went from the cabin to the lakeshore, where Ted, holding a little flashlight close to the ground,

They launched the craft, which was ovalshaped, the inflated wall around it. The Shadow used a short paddle

The Shadow's mode of paddling was absolutely silent. He stroked the boat forward, turned the paddle inward

to get the back leverage that straightened the course, then, without lifting the paddle from the water, he sliced

As efficient as the churn of a propeller, but without the slightest trace of foam, those strokes carried the

Silence and darkness. Both were needed, for Ted noted flashlights along the jagged rocks below the cliff and

He conjectured, therefore, that the Feds expected trouble, but had no surety that it was due. Otherwise they

would probably be concentrated on the brink high above, which Curt Hulber had picked as the spot for an

Had the search for the grotto been his own idea, Ted would have given it up at the end of the first hour.

Sheltered in the cove, he and The Shadow picked their way, inch by inch, among the projecting trees and

There was no sign of an opening among the rocks; nevertheless, The Shadow persisted in retracing the whole

course. At last, while they were in the boat again, he turned a flashlight's gleam upon the water, tore up a

They drifted toward the rocks, were caught by a tiny eddy, and disappeared between two large stones. It

struck Ted, then, that The Shadow had detected the current by the boat's drift. Grounding the boat, they got

Past a small clump of alder, under the very stretch of a leaning birch, they pulled stones from the turf, and the

water gurgled. The larger stones were harder, but they brought the best results.

The process was opening up a channel that the stones, sliding from above, had covered but not blocked. Here

was the secret route of Chief Selango when he made his appearances upon the ledge; the channel that a lucky

The boat itself was drifting in upon them; boarding it, they squeezed farther through between screening

bushes and pressing rocks. Then Ted flashed the light ahead to see the channel widen underground, and The

Watery passages among the great slopes of gray rock. Inlets that were narrow but deep. The one that The

Shadow took curved back to the others until the way was finally blocked by solid rock ahead. But when Ted

It wasn't domeshaped; it was more like the interior of a steeple, but very irregular. High above were cracks,

the sort that showed on the outer surface of the cliff. One of those cracks must lead to the Gray Haven ledge.

Leaving Ted on the narrow shore, The Shadow moved the boat back to the outlet. Ted could see him blinking

his flashlight from the shelter between the rocks and was quite sure that answering flashes came from

somewhere across the lake, on a prearranged line, for there were long pauses between The Shadow's signals

Then The Shadow returned partway. Ted could hear his whisper; the walls of the grotto carried it. He was

telling Ted to remain here while he, The Shadow, contacted his agents and made a checkup on the outside

Ted voiced his agreement to wait; he listened and heard the rubbery squeezes as the boat went out into the

ALONE, Ted turned his flashlight up to the grotto roof. A few hours yet until midnight, and Ted wondered if

The jagged interior of the grotto offered good opportunities for a climb; in fact, some spots looked as if they

Ted decided to have a try at them. It wouldn't do any harm, and Ted's success might impress The Shadow.

Even with midnight approaching, Ted couldn't suppress his wish to reach Gray Haven and talk with Isabel.

He would be willing to forego it, if The Shadow ordered otherwise. But The Shadow had said nothing on that

The climb proved easier than Ted expected. Finding himself at the fissure near the pointed dome, he squeezed

through. The crevice curved, and suddenly Ted thrust his head and shoulders into open air.

He was dizzy when he looked down, for he could see the sharp rocks at the water's edge. But he noted that

It reminded Ted of steep roofs that he had climbed, and when he looked for a goal, he saw the very one he

wanted. It was the slit of a cellar window in a buttress of Gray Haven, a dozen yards away, higher up, and

Ted didn't fully realize his folly until he had started for that goal. At moments his position was precarious,

On the climb, he could see the place he had to reach, but to try the thing in reverse would be a blind task. He

He reached the buttress in nightmarish fashion, maneuvered one hand up to the narrow window, and managed

to get the other with it. A hard pull, a tight squeeze, and Ted rolled through to the cellar floor.

After he had found his breath, he looked out. He didn't like the way back at all. It would be folly to attempt it

Meanwhile, crouching in this cellar, hiding from people who didn't suspect his presence, seemed quite a

useless policy. He was in Gray Haven; the thing to do was make the most of it. Ted believed that The Shadow

Gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, Ted began a search for stairs that would take him upward, invading

As a sleuth, Isabel Parnal considered herself a hopeless loss. She hadn't managed to keep watch on Therman

at all. When he was around, there was no use watching him; and when he was gone, he went so suddenly that

Always, when Therman reappeared, to knock at Kelwood's study or enter the library, he had some smug

Vic Marquette was soon due to pick up specimen plates of the new currency that he had brought the night

before for Kelwood's examination. The plates were in the package that Therman had carried up to the study.

Deciding that a watched pot made only the watcher boil, Isabel had given up the Therman proposition and

But she couldn't sleep. Everything exasperated her, from Therman's cunning to the fact that the night was

pleasant, with lovely starlight on the lake. She was even exasperated when she thought of Vic Marquette;

because, as Isabel knew too well, the suspicions that she had directed toward Therman hadn't changed Vic's

Isabel could guess just how Vic figured it. He had two suspects instead of one, and was checking on Therman

to find out if he happened to be an inside man, employed by the outsider, Ted Lingle. Such thoughts changed

Isabel's exasperation to anger, until she suddenly decided that she would have it out with Marquette.

There was a wedge that might work. When Vic arrived, he would expect Isabel to report on Therman. That, at

Putting on the fluffy negligee and the highheeled slippers, Isabel started downstairs to see if Vic had

arrived. At the stair top, the click of her heels made her remember last night's mistake.

It might be that Therman, knowing that he was now unwatched, had gone back to his snooping game. On that

Stealing downward, she was pleased by her own stealth. The stairs didn't creak under the light tread of her

bare feet. If Therman happened to be on the snoop, she would hear him, but he would not hear her.

Isabel heard nothing, but she saw something that intrigued her. It was a light from the library; not one of the

stationary lamps, but a moving glow that indicated a flashlight. Therman must be up to something very

Entering the library, Isabel watched the glow turn toward a bookcase; she approached very close, intending to

The man with the light was stooping toward the floor and Isabel miscalculated his next move. Turning

suddenly, he swung in her direction, jostling the girl before she could step away. Something glittered in the

She didn't realize that it was pointed accidentally. Thinking surely that the man was Therman and that he was

bent on murder, Isabel grabbed for the weapon, hoping to wrest it from the secretary.

Immediately she was hurled backward. Gun and flashlight were gone; in the darkness, the man was trying to

silence the excited girl by clutching her with one hand, clamping her lips with the other.

Isabel did manage a shriek which would have roused the entire household if it hadn't been suppressed quite

suddenly. Though stifled, she was still struggling when she recognized the quick, excited tone of the man

GLADLY, Isabel went limp, to indicate that she wouldn't struggle further. Ted released her near the lighted

doorway, where he had dragged her, hoping that Isabel would see his face. But the girl feared that the light

would betray them. She drew Ted back into the darkness, where she whispered the very words that he wanted

Ted didn't have to ask if Isabel trusted him. She was answering the question before it was put. In the joy of

their reunion it was difficult for either to remember the causes of this surprise meeting, but the sense of stark

Ted told Isabel how he had found his way up into the mansion. He explained his reason for being in the

library. Having found the room by chance, Ted had decided to look for any books that might pertain to the

region around Gray Haven in hopes that he might glean new information for The Shadow's fund; things that

In her turn, Isabel was detailing her suspicions of Therman when she remembered something that might

"There are some old papers," recalled the girl. "Maps, architects' plans, and letters, on a shelf near the

She was turning Ted toward the library window when the room was illuminated by a frightening blaze that

revealed every detail of the huge bookwalled room. It was a flash of lightning, followed by a smash of

thunder that could have drowned a dozen shrieks like the one that Isabel gave despite herself.

Ted's arm tightened around the girl's quivering shoulders; as the thunderclap faded, Isabel steadied, spoke

"It startled me, Ted, that was all. I can't get used to the sudden way that storms arrive over Wilderness Lake.

Only a little while ago I looked out and saw the starlight. I hadn't an idea that a storm was coming."

"I know," returned Ted. "They've surprised me, too, over at the cabin. But this means that I'll have to hurry,

Isabel, before the storm breaks. The Shadow will be expecting me. Where are the papers you mentioned?"

Isabel found them in the darkness. A lightning flash, less lurid than the last, showed the papers as she handed

them to Ted. There weren't many, so he folded them and stuck them in the pocket on the left side of his coat.

Reaching to his other pocket, Ted found it empty; he remembered then that he had dropped his gun back in

It was a creepy tread, difficult to locate; the sort that Ted knew must be Therman's, from Isabel's description.

Ted started to draw the girl away from the window, and Isabel whispered something about the door.

They were moving there when the lightning flashed anew; this time the rolling thunder was followed by a

patter of rain. With those sounds; all traces of Therman's creep were obliterated.

"I don't see Therman," she undertoned, "but I'm sure he's somewhere about. I'll go out to the stairs, and if he

TED waited just inside the door. Isabel reached the stairs, paused halfway up, then hurried to the top. She

picked up her slippers, carried them in her hands down to the halfway mark, where she sat down to put them

If Therman appeared, Isabel didn't want him to know that she was snooping, too. In this case, the clatter of

If it hadn't been for a roll of thunder, Isabel would have heard Therman sooner. When she did hear his creep,

it had come along the hall and was very close to the library door. On her feet, Isabel clattered downward,

She saw the secretary turn his face about, for he was actually in the doorway of the library, reaching for a

light switch. Isabel's cry was appealing, almost desperate; it rather startled the fellow. He might have turned

The flame of a gun knifed suddenly from the darkness of the library. Therman jolted upright, went pitching

forward into the darkened room, clawing wildly with his hands. Isabel heard Ted's shout, a sudden scuffle.

Something was bouncing along the floor; it proved to be Ted's gun. He was using both hands to grapple with

Therman, who was struggling with the madness that only a wounded man could display.

Wrenching free from Therman, Ted reeled toward the door. Floundering, Therman made a desperate grab

after him and caught his ankle. Ted sprawled, came scrambling ahead on hands and knees, scooping up the

He was on his feet, darting along the hall, half turned as though expecting other opposition, when Isabel, back

He saw Therman first, staggering from the library, coughing blood from lips that were mouthing incoherent

words. Therman alone seemed bent upon overtaking Ted, but his effort ended in a long plunge that was

The study door whipped open and Kelwood appeared there with a revolver. At the same moment, a man

Ted fired wildly along the hall, aiming for the ceiling; his shots caused both Kelwood and Brackley to drop

back, while even Isabel crouched upon the stairs. Then, as Ted turned to run, a solidlybuilt man shoved into

With a slash of his own gun, Ted knocked aside the one that Marquette drew. Shoving past Vic, he fled for

stairs that led down to the cellar. Vic was firing wildly and his shots were bringing other Feds, while Ted,

well ahead, was blazing back to discourage the pursuers. Actually, Ted's foolish shots were merely showing

Flinging his gun as he went through the final doorway, Ted found the proper window by a lightning flash and

squeezed straight through it. In his mad desire for escape, he was willing to risk the hazards below.

Twisted about so that his feet were downward, he was sliding as he clutched the sloping rock, trying

haphazardly to take the angle that would carry him to the crevice above the grotto.

Instinct was succeeding where reason failed. A vivid streak of lightning showed the cellar window, with

Marquette peering from it. Ted's course was the one he wanted, but Vic spotted him, and Ted, seeing the

A mad policy under the circumstances. The beating rain had soaked the rock, making it slippery. Losing his

MARQUETTE'S hasty, misdirected gunshots were lost in the roll of thunder. Like drums of an orchestra, the

sound seemed an increasing accompaniment to a death plunge. Gone with the last flash of light, Ted Lingle

It would have been impossible for him to reach the saving crevice a few yards to his side, under his own

effort. But there was something that Marquette did not see in the last glint of lightning.

The something was a rope that snaked from the crevice. A loop, like that of a lasso, was bound for Ted's head

and shoulders as they wavered outward from the slanted rock. The loop scored a perfect ringer; its tightening

Literally jerked from the air, Ted scraped the rock again, his hands hitting the crevice as they passed it.

Then Ted was dragged into the rift itself, where he heard a voice speaking from the blackness: The Shadow's.

A moment later lightning blazed anew, and Ted saw his cloaked friend beside him in the cleft. But Marquette,

To Vic, Ted was a murderer who had gone to a just death. Only Ted Lingle could have slain Therman, from

Marquette's own knowledge of the case. But Ted Lingle, wrenched from a plunge of death, was to tell a

SAFE in the protecting depths of the grotto, Ted Lingle was fumbling for the papers that he had brought from

Gray Haven. More than ever, he felt that he needed them to justify himself with The Shadow.

Ted's expedition, as he now considered it, had been a very unwise one. So unwise, that if The Shadow had

disclaimed further interest in Ted's cause, Ted himself could not have blamed his cloaked rescuer.

Not only had Ted delayed The Shadow's own plans, he had put himself completely out with the Feds. If,

through some sheer freak of fancy, Vic Marquette would have been willing to cross former evidence off the

Therman's death was something more than circumstantial. Marquette had practically witnessed it himself and

In fact, in talking to The Shadow, Ted wasn't entirely sure as to his own innocence.

"I remembered my gun," he told The Shadow. "It was on the floor somewhere with the flashlight. Not having

the flashlight, I couldn't find the gun. I saw Therman at the door; I heard Isabel call. Maybe she was just

trying to attract Therman's attention, but, from the way she clattered down the stairs, I thought that something

"Anyway, I swung at Therman and the gun went off. How it went off, I don't know. Guns have a habit of

doing that, they say, but not when you aren't holding them. I'd swear I didn't have the gun right then, except

Ted rubbed his head. It was still aching from a jounce that he had received against a bookcase during his

wrestle with the dying man, Therman. It must have been that blow, Ted decided, that had led to his folly in

trying to escape through the cellar window, down the cliff that provided an almost impossible return.

About the only thing that made sense to Ted was the way that The Shadow had rescued him. Amid his

bewilderment, Ted realized that The Shadow would naturally have been awaiting him. Having found him

absent from the grotto, it was obvious to The Shadow that Ted must have gone up to the house on the ledge.

Crooks had been buying rope, so The Shadow had ordered his agents to acquire some, too, in case it might be

needed. Wiser than Ted, The Shadow had seen a possible use for rope in scaling to Gray Haven.

Bringing a rope, he had found a use for it in rescuing Ted, for which the young man was duly grateful. Yet

Ted felt that it was only another reason why The Shadow should find fault with him for having gone to Gray

It didn't occur to Ted that The Shadow always made allowance for the deficiencies of others. That fact, as

much as reliance on his own prowess, accounted for The Shadow's success in battling crime. To The Shadow,

the human element in any situation was the primary basis from which all other factors should be considered.

Receiving the papers from Ted, The Shadow went through them under the glow of a flashlight. They were

interesting, for they showed plans of Gray Haven as Alfred Parnal had made them, along with suggestions

regarding the improvement of both Gray Haven and the projected Summit House on the cliff above.

The most interesting thing about all this information was that it told The Shadow practically nothing that he

TED, studying the papers as The Shadow went through them, was highly disappointed. He was surprised

"Quite curious," observed The Shadow, "that with all his plans for the Summit House, Alfred Parnal provided

"But he could reach the Summit House from outside," put in Ted, pointing to a plan. "He was going to run a

The diagram showed the road in question, but The Shadow laid the chart aside. He picked out certain letters

that people had written to Parnal, along with the carboncopy replies. The Shadow pointed to a paragraph in

one of the originals that mentioned the difficulty of shipping certain goods by truck.

"The answer to this is missing," stated The Shadow. "But the next letter states that the shippers will be ready

"Yes," interposed The Shadow. "Something that concerned an improvement of the road. But there is nothing

Out of that cryptic statement Ted gathered that the new road might be the one along which the trucks would

come when Parnal gave the word. But the new road led to the Summit House, not to Gray Haven. Which

brought everything back to the starting point. There would have to be some way from Gray Haven to the

"These papers have been weeded out," declared The Shadow. "Whoever did it missed an indirect inference

that explains why certain documents were removed. Let us look at the plans again."

They looked, and The Shadow found another thing. The plans that bore the earliest date showed sketches of

the entire mansion; while later ones were incomplete. They did not include the servants' quarters, where

Folding the papers, The Shadow gave them back to Ted. He pointed his companion to the rubber boat,

reminding him that he had a rendezvous at midnight. There was less than an hour remaining, which meant

that Ted would have to start out from the grotto in order to join The Shadow's agents before Curt Hulber and

The Shadow, however, remained in the grotto. Pushing off in the rubber boat, Ted heard a parting laugh that

THERE was more than illusion to that laugh. The Shadow was actually climbing within the grotto's pointed

dome. He was taking the trail that Ted had followed earlier, up to Gray Haven itself.

Reaching the crevice, The Shadow pushed out into the rain, which had lessened to a drizzle. His was the task

A more difficult task, it seemed. The cliff was no longer dry, which added hazards to a climb. Below,

flashlights were bobbing along the shore; at times they glared upward toward the cliff. Feds were searching

Though their flashlights couldn't show the entire cliff, it was certain that they would spot any gleam that The

From his cloak, The Shadow produced four rubber suction cups, nested like saucers. Attaching them to hands

and feet, he moved in beetlefashion along the cliff. The very factor that made an ordinary climb hazardous

Its dampness helped the suckers take hold. They clung to the rock as if glued, and The Shadow's only

As for a light, it would have been superfluous. All that The Shadow had to do was find the buttress of the

Reaching one of the slits, The Shadow entered. He put away the suction cups and went up through the house.

He was in the hall outside of Kelwood's study when he paused. The door was open and The Shadow could

"He was loyal, poor fellow," declared Kelwood. "Loyal until he died. It grieves me to lose Therman."

"Well, we nailed Lingle," returned Vic. "I know that doesn't make up for it, but it's some satisfaction."

The Shadow wondered how much satisfaction it would be to Isabel Parnal. It happened that the girl, for the

present, was The Shadow's chief concern. Gliding to the library door, he paused there. The room was dark,

but The Shadow caught the tone of a sob, then a sliding noise that could only be the opening of a window.

Darkness merged instantly with darkness. A single twist was all that The Shadow needed to disappear into

the gloom of the library. His swift strides were not heard by Isabel as she thrust herself across the sill of the

This time The Shadow had no lariat to prevent a plunge, but his rapid spring served instead.

Gloved hands caught Isabel's shoulders as she tried to pitch herself from the window, to reach the rocks

where she thought that Ted's body lay. Hands more expert than Ted's, for not only did The Shadow clutch the

Then Isabel was listening to a whispered tone that told her Ted was still alive.

REMEMBERING Ted's mention of a mysterious friend, Isabel not only listened to The Shadow's questions,

but undertoned responses. She believed that Ted had killed Therman, but excused it, claiming that she was to

"Only Ted was in the library," Isabel whispered. "Mr. Kelwood came from his study. Marquette was coming

"But you were the only one who saw him," interrupted The Shadow. "The others might believe that Brackley

"You can show doubt on that point. Insist that Brackley might be the murderer. Demand that they search his

The Shadow's laugh was his response to Isabel's question. With the strange whisper, she felt a cold touch

against her hand. She was holding a revolver, which happened to be Ted's gun. The Shadow had come across

it in the cellar, where Ted had flung it before going through the window. In pressing the weapon upon Isabel,

"Take this with you," The Shadow told the girl. "Place it somewhere in Brackley's room so that Marquette

Wondering, Isabel stood staring at the gun, for she could see its glitter by the light from the hall. She turned

to speak to The Shadow, but he was gone. To her amazement, his whispering laugh came from outside the

window. The Shadow had taken the route that Isabel had wanted, but he was going up instead of down.

With his suction cups, The Shadow was scaling the high wall of Gray Haven to reach the cliff above. There

he intended to keep his own midnight appointment with invaders who represented crime!

STEPHEN KELWOOD looked up in surprise when Isabel Parnal stopped in front of his desk. The girl had

Kelwood didn't realize that Isabel had come very near being a ghost only a short while before. Slipperless, so

that Kelwood and Marquette could not hear her, she had stolen into the library, only to have her suicide

Intent upon following The Shadow's instructions, Isabel didn't realize that she was as stealthy as before. She

had come direct from the library, and her mind was concentrated upon her coming task.

Isabel's arms were folded, as though her fluffy negligee had proven insufficient against the cool night air. Her

real reason for the pose was to conceal the gun that The Shadow had given her. Isabel was hiding it from

Kelwood's rather startled tone brought Marquette about. Vic was wrapping the currency plates that Kelwood

had approved, intending to take them along when he left Gray Haven. Like Kelwood, Marquette was rather

"I don't think that Ted killed Therman," declared Isabel slowly. "I am sure that the murderer was Brackley."

It was difficult to force words that she did not believe, but Isabel's reticence only added to their effect.

"It couldn't have been Brackley," he argued. "Why, you said yourself that he came from the rear passage."

"I saw him come from there," admitted Isabel, "but he might have run from the library first. After all, I didn't

Kelwood still shook his head, but Marquette became interested. He hadn't forgotten Isabel's earlier suspicions

of Therman. Figuring that Therman might be an inside man, Vic decided that Brackley might have guessed it,

too. In that case a bit of competent persuasion might produce some interesting facts from Brackley.

"I want you to search Brackley's quarters." Isabel's color had returned; her words were firm. "Find out if he

"Brackley brought a shotgun," returned Kelwood. "What makes you think he would have a revolver, too?"

"If Brackley has a revolver," said Vic, "it's funny that he grabbed a shotgun instead. You don't go bird

hunting indoors. Maybe he does have a revolver. We'll ask him about it, anyway."

THEY went out through the hall and turned along the rear passage that led to the caretaker's rooms. A knock

Marquette put the proposition tactfully. Brackley seemed quite willing that a search should be made. He

showed Marquette from one room into the next, Kelwood following along. Isabel was in the background, and

There was a large tobacco humidor, a metal one, on a table in the corner, with its lid slightly tilted.

Approaching the corner softly, Isabel lifted the lid, brought the revolver from her negligee and slipped it into

There was just enough tobacco in the bottom to prevent a thud, and Isabel slid the cover back as she had

Then, with the same softfooted tactics, she stole across the room behind Kelwood's back and perched herself

in an easychair, where she tucked her feet under her, partly because they were cold and partly because she

wanted no one to notice her lack of slippers, which might produce a guess as to her stealthy methods.

All the while Brackley was opening drawers of bureaus and tables to show Marquette that none hid a gun.

The clatter had helped Isabel considerably, for Kelwood, watching the men in the inner room, hadn't heard

Having finished with the inner room, Marquette came out. He started to look around the outer room, and

Brackley helped him. In fact, it was Brackley who lifted the top of the big tobacco jar, a grin on his face as he

With the same motion, Brackley was starting to replace the lid, while Marquette was nodding. But Vic, to

make his search official, poked his head forward at the same time. Brackley, thinking that the humidor was

With a sudden jab of his hand, Marquette caught Brackley's wrist and thrust it back. Vic had caught a

glimmer from within the jar; a moment later he was pulling the revolver into sight.

"Only a shotgun?" queried Vic. "That's all you use, eh? What kind of a shotgun is this?"

He cracked the revolver open and found that its chambers contained empty cartridges. The gun had evidently

Marquette didn't stop to reason that it had taken only one shot to kill Therman, that this would be Ted's gun

more logically than Brackley's. He was more interested in the fact that Brackley had disavowed any

It didn't occur to Vic that Isabel, cuddled so cutely in the chair across the room, could have planted the gun in

Brackley's stupid stare turned to a glare, first at Vic, then at Kelwood, who was coming forward to look at the

Brackley did not finish. He heard footsteps at the door. Feds were returning to report the mysterious

disappearance of Ted's body from the lakeshore. Brackley took it that Marquette had arranged their arrival at

HURLING himself at Marquette, the caretaker pushed Vic aside and grabbed for his shotgun that was in the

corner. Kelwood sprang to stop him, pulling a revolver of his own. Swinging the shotgun by its barrels,

Quick with his trigger, Kelwood splintered the door as Brackley slammed it, but he was too late to down the

fugitive. Shouting for Kelwood to hold his fire, Marquette drove through at the head of the Feds.

Smart enough to yank off the lights, Brackley was lost in the darkness of the inner room, but the gleam from

There was only one place where Brackley could have gone into a closet at the rear of the room. Shouting

for Brackley to come out, Marquette leaped ahead under the protection of his men, who were ready to blast if

Brackley made a move. But when Vic boldly yanked the door open, the closet proved empty.

Vic called for lights. They came. Staring into the closet, Marquette looked for a clue to Brackley's

disappearance and saw one. The rear of the closet looked more like a barrier than a wall; in fact, this wasn't a

closet at all. It was a passage that had been blocked off, a route that led to somewhere deeper in the cliff

Turning to his men, Marquette told them to bring axes, so that they could chop their way through the stout

Quite amazed by the turn of events that The Shadow's instructions had produced, Isabel watched through the

doorway of the outer room. As the Feds returned with axes and other tools, she heard a clock striking twelve.

ON the cliff brow above Gray Haven, The Shadow knew that midnight had arrived. He needed no clock to

tell him; he learned the fact from the flashlights that blinked along the high fence.

No Feds were on guard; all had gone below to help hunt for Ted's body. Curt Hulber and his crew of outlaws

Almost too easy to suit Curt. He was holding his men back as they started to squeeze between the pickets,

Darkness, thickened by the clouded sky, gave Curt an impression of danger close by. In fact, Curt was almost

A weird laugh, as ominous as the thunderclaps that had so lately battered the atmosphere around Gray Haven.

Mockery that rose in an eerie crescendo, only to break into an uncanny pitch that awakened echoes from

To every listener it seemed that the tone was meant for him. The strident mirth sent crooks dodging,

scattering, flinging away their flashlights as they pulled their guns. Blindly they blasted into the darkness.

The only accurate shots were those that replied stabs from The Shadow's deadly guns.

He was spotting crooks as was his style, taking them by surprise, though he was only one in opposition to

more than a dozen. His gun bursts were his taunts, transformed into metal, which picked off foemen with a

The Shadow was on the move along the cliff edge, dropping, fading, coming up again, always evasive;

whereas his enemies, counting on their numbers, were firing flatfooted. Their blazing guns made targets

So timely was the thrust that it came almost in the middle of Curt's outspread crew. The crooks broke for the

only cover that offered the trees behind the cliff brow. To their amazement, they heard The Shadow's shots

echo, not from rocks, as the laugh had, but from other guns that supplied an additional hail of bullets. Frantic

They saw a low wall loom from the brush. Guns spoke from the top level of the bulwark. Dropping, Curt's

men spent useless shots trying to find hidden foemen in the dark. Only Curt's snarl rallied them. In

desperation, he ordered his fighters to rush the wall ahead. Hearing The Shadow's laugh behind them, thugs

In a wave, they reached the wall before the flanking members of The Shadow's squad had time to rejoin the

Ted Lingle was among the group behind the wall; he heard Harry Vincent, the man beside him, telling him to

come along. The Shadow had instructed his agents to fall back from their defenses if crooks came in a surge.

For some reason, The Shadow himself had forced that issue by pressing in so swiftly upon Curt's fleeing

tribe. The Shadow's laugh, resounding from the darkness, bore a tone of triumph which Harry understood,

though Ted did not. It was a token of changed strategy that called for the cooperation of the men who were

How it could work was plain to Ted when he hard rolled across the wall with Harry and the others. The

agents had not given up the cause. Instead, they had turned the foundations of the Summit House into a trap.

Except for those who strewed the ground behind them, Curt and his crew were all across the wall, with no

chance of getting out, for The Shadow's aids were at every angle, keeping up a constant barrage into the

CURT HULBER recognized the snare. He dropped to the depths of the foundations, shouting for his men to

The Shadow's laugh had trailed away, as though the cloaked fighter had gone from the scene, but guns were

ripping steadily from the ground above. Getting into the mess had been bad enough; Curt knew that climbing

His only chance was to find some other outlet. Blinking a flashlight on the weatherstreaked concrete floor,

Curt looked for a hole into which he and his fellow rats could dive. He saw cracks that formed a rough square

and pried at them, to no avail. Curt was giving it up when the very floor began to heave.

Impelled by a mechanism below, the square slab lifted. Into the range of Curt's flashlight poked a squarish

face that would have ducked again but for the cry of recognition that Curt gave. He knew the man from

below. He was the trucker who had so often brought the shipments of counterfeit bills.

The man was Brackley. Escaped from the Feds, he had come into another danger zone. But the men trapped

in the Summit House were the very reinforcements that Brackley had needed below in Gray Haven. He

Two strokes at once. Crooks were out of the trap and on their way to surprise Vic Marquette and the Feds.

Such was the reversal of events that The Shadow's strategy had finally produced!

DOWN in Gray Haven, Marquette and his squad had broken through the wall. They found themselves in a

large room where bulky objects showed dimly in the gloom. Turning on a light, Vic discovered what the

The bulky shapes were printing presses. About them were stacks of blank paper, and others of counterfeit

money. This hidden lair in back of Brackley's was the real headquarters of the counterfeiting ring!

As his men spread to look for Brackley, Marquette turned back to Kelwood, who was standing in the jagged

Kelwood's face was a study in bewilderment. He couldn't seem to take in Marquette's explanation that

"Therman must have been wise," stated Vic. "That's why Brackley got rid of him. Maybe you're right, Miss

Parnal" Marquette was looking past Kelwood to see Isabel's amazed face "about young Lingle. He may

Two Feds were calling, saying that they had found what appeared to be another false wall. Marquette told

them to keep hammering at it, while the others searched the counterfeiting room. Then, remembering that it

was wise to have all outlets covered, Vic delegated Kelwood to keep watch on Brackley's rooms in case any

With Kelwood on duty, Marquette turned to find out how the two men were faring with the new barrier that

With a rattle, the smooth wall became a door that slid open, to reveal a batch of armed men who, for the first

Curt Hulber; his lieutenant, Bolo; and the remnants of their mob had arrived with Brackley as their guide.

Too late to prevent the Feds from entering the counterfeiting lair, they were at least in time to open battle

with the invaders. In this case, unlike their setto with The Shadow, crooks held the edge.

Marquette and two others were diving for the shelter of the presses. The remaining Feds were close enough to

use those barricades and fire shots that made crooks scatter for similar cover, meanwhile giving Marquette

But the crooks still held the advantage. In spreading, they were able to focus their fire upon the Feds and

There was only one way out. It would have to be a dash through the rooms that Kelwood guarded. It meant

To set the example, he edged out from behind a press, ready to start the dash. He was calling upon his men to

"I have them trapped from here! Close in on them at once! Do as I say. I am the man who organized this

REAL enlightenment dawned on Curt Hulber. One look at Brackley told him that the sullenfaced caretaker

was not of the caliber that meant a big shot. These presses and the equipment that went with them could never

have been purchased and installed by Brackley. It took a brain to do such things, and Kelwood had the brain.

Curt had led his own men to believe that he was the real head of the entire counterfeiting racket. Actually, he

His even split half to the printers, as he termed it was an actual procedure, but Curt had never tried to find

out just who the printers were. It was from them that the counterfeit money came, and its manufacture was

Of course, Curt had credited them with having a brain, a man who took the major share of the profits. But he

hadn't figured that the honor went clear around the circle and came to Stephen Kelwood, the man who was so

Things cleared rapidly for Curt. Kelwood hadn't exposed the dollar bills with extra serial numbers until the

market had been really glutted. In so doing, he had really aided the counterfeiting cause, for he had paved the

Again Kelwood had broken that game only when it was starting to decline. In all probability, his purpose had

It was quits on Curt's feud with Kelwood. Curt gave a gesture to his men, signifying for them to flank the

Feds, as Kelwood wanted. Only Brackley objected; he jumped out in front of them, waving his arms as he

A gun barked. Vic Marquette had poked from cover to aim for Brackley. He clipped the caretaker neatly,

But Vic's move wasn't as timely as he thought. In dropping Brackley, he removed the one man who refused to

accept Kelwood's leadership, and who therefore could be of some use to the Feds.

Moreover, with that sniping shot, Vic, though wary of Curt and the latter's crew, had put himself in serious

danger. He gave Kelwood the very chance that the big shot wanted. A side step through the broken wall and

Finger on gun trigger, Kelwood was ready to deliver death, not to avenge Brackley, who had so stupidly

deserted him, but to convince Curt and his crew that they had really met the hidden master in whose service

The Feds would have been rendered leaderless if it hadn't been for Isabel. She flung herself for Kelwood and

grabbed his gun hand as he fired. Not only did his shot spurt wide; Kelwood found himself too close to the

Crooks heard the girl's scream, punctuated by the sudden blast of a gun. To Curt it meant that Isabel's case

was settled, that Kelwood would be back again. He snapped the order to his followers:

THEY drove for the presses, catching the Feds off guard, for Marquette had started a mad dash toward the

spot where Kelwood disappeared, hoping to somehow rescue Isabel. The way was cut off by the crooks; there

They were back to shelter, but their enemies were boxing them, bullets clanging a tattoo against the presses.

Marquette took a quick aim toward the big shot. It wasn't necessary. Before Vic could pull the trigger,

Kelwood staggered. There was blackness, not light, behind him, and from it came a challenge that marked the

Never had that laugh been more awesome, more toned with chill, than when it now broke through the

lowroofed room where cornered Feds were staving off crime's most vicious thrust.

The Shadow had returned, to swing the balance that Kelwood sought to sway. That single shot had been his.

He had staggered Kelwood before the selfstyled big shot had been able to settle Isabel.

For, as The Shadow wheeled in from the doorway, Marquette saw Isabel behind him, picking up Kelwood's

gun. Only then did Vic realize that Kelwood had been weaponless when he made that sudden return.

Crooks swung in answer to The Shadow's challenge. They put themselves in trouble that went double. The

Shadow's guns were already in action, flaying men who tried to aim. In their turn, the Feds gained just the

edge they needed; with Marquette in the lead, they sprang across the presses, shooting as they came.

Curt Hulber was right in the midst of things, caught by a crossfire from both directions. He sprawled, riddled

with bullets, among his toppling followers. Crime's cause was lost, and only one man refused to recognize it.

Stephen Kelwood was coming to his feet again, roaring like a wounded bull, to make a last clutch at The

Kelwood wasn't the only man who sought vengeance on the foe in black. Another, the wariest of all Curt's

tribe, had reached the elevator and was completing a long, wide fling of his arm. The man was Bolo, and the

The weapon arrowed just as Bolo had intended it, but The Shadow did not need to dodge it. Kelwood had

blundered up into the weapon's path, while Bolo was snaking the turnaround throw.

Buried deep between Kelwood's shoulders, the massive blade flattened the headman of crime with the force

of a sledgehammer's stroke. The slashing door of the elevator blocked off the vicious leer of disappointment

Bolo had a gun in addition to his knife, but didn't care to use it once his hurl had failed. Escape had become

By the time the Feds had suppressed the few wounded crooks who still had ideas of fight, the elevator door

slid open again. The car had made a trip to the top, only to come down. For Bolo had met with prompt

opposition at the upper outlet. His onegun attack hadn't scored a hit on the half a dozen foemen who awaited

BOLO was stretched on the elevator floor, weighted down with bullets, and Harry Vincent had deputed Ted

As Ted stepped from the elevator he was greeted by Vic Marquette, who could no longer doubt that Ted was

on the side of justice. But Ted shook loose from Vic's handshake the moment that he saw Isabel.

She was staring out through Brackley's room, a wondering gaze upon her face as she alone witnessed the

departure of crime's Nemesis, The Shadow. So fixed were her thoughts that she was startled when she felt

Ted's hands grasp her; then her gasp turned to a happy sigh when she saw the man she loved.

There were matters still to be settled at Gray Haven, and Vic Marquette attended to them. Chief among their

finds in the counterfeiting lair were duplicate plates of the new bills which the government had requested

The master money faker had been all prepared to stage the most unique of crimes that of having counterfeit

cash ready for circulation before the originals were off the government presses!

But that was for the future. Of equal interest were the facts of Kelwood's past. Examination of his files in the

It was plain from entries in his ledgers that Kelwood had robbed estates like Isabel's to finance his

counterfeiting schemes. Though he had later replaced those funds, the transactions had not escaped the notice

Kelwood had needed to get rid of Therman. Vic Marquette remembered the shot from the dark, fired in New

York. Kelwood himself had fired it from the yard, and had come in, locking the back door behind him. His

purpose to fake an attempt on his own life, and get Therman instead, using a gun other than his own to

When Marquette had pushed into the room ahead of Therman, Kelwood had purposely diverted his aim, for

After Vic Marquette pieced that one, Isabel Parnal provided another clue. She realized that Kelwood must

have been faking Therman's creep at certain times. Two creeps tonight at the time when Ted had talked to

Isabel in the library indicated that both had been about. Somehow Kelwood must have sneaked into the

Investigating that point, Marquette found that the rear wall of the study closet was fixed to a hinged

Kelwood had managed, at last, to murder Therman by using Ted's discarded gun from the darkness of the

library, tossing it to the door where Ted could stumble on it, and then returning to the study by his special

The Shadow must have fitted those facts just as he conjectured the existence of an elevator from the hidden

Kelwood's repeated detections of counterfeit currency had been too remarkable to suit The Shadow. Classing

Kelwood as the brain behind the game, The Shadow had deduced that Brackley must be the man in charge of

the plant. Hence The Shadow's orders to Isabel: a perfect thrust against Kelwood.

Suspecting that Kelwood had murdered Therman, Brackley had supposed that the planted gun was Kelwood's

work, too. An idea whereby Kelwood could shift the blame for murder to Brackley.

On such an assumption, Brackley had done exactly what The Shadow expected. He had sought the quickest

way out of Gray Haven, and had therewith led the Feds along the trail to the counterfeiting lair.

To Ted and Isabel, those cleared facts spelled a happy future, which they discussed while seated at the library

window. All traces of the storm had passed; clear starlight had its twinkling reflections in the waters of the

But there was one tiny spot of light that moved across the water, then suddenly dwindled into blackness. It

marked The Shadow's parting voyage from Gray Haven, the strange house on the ledge where harbored crime