MURDER MANSION........................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. PATHS TO CRIME..........................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE FIRST HURDLE .....................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. WITHIN THE MANSION.............................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. THE MAN FROM THE NIGHT.................................................................................14

CHAPTER V. CROSSED BATTLE.....................................................................................................18

CHAPTER VI. HUNTERS AND HUNTED .........................................................................................21

CHAPTER VII. VANISHED SHADOWS ............................................................................................25

CHAPTER VIII. CROOKS DECIDE ....................................................................................................29

CHAPTER IX. TRAGEDY AHEAD ....................................................................................................33

CHAPTER X. ONE NIGHT LATER ....................................................................................................37

CHAPTER XI. SHADOW MEETS SHADOW ....................................................................................41

CHAPTER XII. THE SHADOW'S FINISH ..........................................................................................46

CHAPTER XIII. THE SHADOW RETURNS ......................................................................................50

CHAPTER XIV. MATTERS OF CONSCIENCE................................................................................54

CHAPTER XV. DEATH COMES BEFORE ........................................................................................58

CHAPTER XVI. TWO IN A ROW .......................................................................................................62

CHAPTER XVII. THE HAND FROM THE PAST ..............................................................................65

CHAPTER XVIII. THE NEEDED LINKS ...........................................................................................70

CHAPTER XIX. CRIME'S METHODS...............................................................................................75

CHAPTER XX. THE FINAL CLAUSE...............................................................................................80

CLIVE WALDEN was worried, as he stared from the window of his hotel room. Worried, and with good

When worry gripped Clive, his face didn't show it. Instead, his lips took on a half smile, his eyes became cold

At present, Clive was alone, so far as the hotel room was concerned; but there were plenty of persons

outdoors. Clive was watching them, five floors below, a typical sidewalk throng as seen on a side street of

One man detached himself from the throng and entered the hotel. Clive thought he recognized the fellow by

his stiff gait, but wasn't sure. Still, Clive kept watching all the more intently. This was the time to watch: after

Hemble had arrived. Back and forth across the lighted area that fronted the hotel, Clive's eyes roved restlessly

He saw none, though his eyes studied the patchy darkness most intently. Strange, the way that one segment of

There were moments when the man at the sixthfloor window fancied that the darkness became an

encroaching streak, with a slow, forward glide; but always it faded, easing back into the deeper blackness like

a fleeting shadow. Clive was convinced that the wavering was entirely a thing of his imagination, when he

His lips relaxing into an actual smile, his eyes switching from cold glint to friendly twinkle, Clive Walden

It was Hemble who entered, stiffly, as always; his blunt face showed its usual solemn look. Hemble's

Clive's wave gestured Hemble to a chair, and continued to a box of cigars on the table. Hemble was helping

"I was getting worried, Hemble. I should have checked in under another name, but since I didn't mention it

The statement was a bit deep for Hemble. Evidently, he'd never heard of people using names other than their

own, and couldn't quite grasp its purpose. Clive gave an indulgent laugh. He pulled an envelope from his

pocket, extracted a batch of timeworn newspaper clippings, and spread them on the table.

"No use reading them," he told Hemble. "They're just for reference. They all say the same thing. They allege

that I, Clive Walden, disappeared after removing the paltry sum of fifteen hundred dollars from the safe of

"It means the thing isn't proven," explained Clive. "So I won't be able to sue the newspaper for damages when

I show I'm innocent. As if they hadn't damaged my reputation already!" There was a flare of anger plain in

"Look at this clipping, Hemble. It mentions that my uncle, Tobias Browland, owns the clock company and

"It doesn't say, though, that I was leaving on a sales trip to get some business for the firm. Nor does it state

that my travelers' checks were in the safe, which is why I opened it. I didn't touch a cent of company funds,

HEMBLE was proving the fact right then. He was pointing to the last paragraph in the clipping, which

referred to Hemble himself. It didn't mention him by name; it simply spoke of the night watchman, which

Clive read the paragraph in question and clapped an approving hand on Hemble's shoulder.

"I only told them what it says there," affirmed Hemble. "I hadn't any orders from Mr. Morion not to let you in

the office after hours. I didn't remember seeing the safe wide open after you left. It wasn't until morning that

"I know," interposed Clive wearily. "But only two persons had the combination: Elbert Morion and myself.

Elbert happened to be in the town all night, so he couldn't possibly have come to the office, even without you

"Unfortunately, Hemble, there was somebody that you did see. I was that somebody. So for six months, I've

been dodging from one State to another so my dear cousin, Elbert, can't catch up with me and have me

arrested and tried for a crime I didn't commit. There's been enough scandal, Hemble, without dragging the

"I know you think it's blown over, Hemble," declared Clive. "But the question is: are you sure?"

"I'd like to see Gail," he said. "She's still out at the house in Riverdale, isn't she?"

"Yes, and I think she wants to see you, Mr. Walden. I hear that a lawyer is coming there tonight. It has

"So Elbert has worked around to it at last," he said. "I knew he was trying to cut me out with Uncle Tobias.

"Yes, sir. We can get out to Connecticut in a few hours. If you'll drop me at the factory, you can take the car

"I'll go along," decided Clive. "Yes, Hemble, I'm going to have a showdown. But I'll talk to Gail first; that is,

if she'll talk to me. Maybe" his tone was bitter "maybe Elbert has sold her a wrong bill of goods, like he

Whatever his opinion of affairs in Riverdale, Clive Walden had full confidence that he could handle them.

His face lacked the hardness that meant suspicion, when he and Hemble reached the hotel lobby. In fact,

Clive didn't bother to look around for any detectives who might have tracked Hemble from Riverdale.

He halfbelieved that the thing had blown over, on the basis that Elbert would be too interested in the matter

of the new will to bother about his missing cousin for the present. It might be dangerous when Clive reached

Connecticut; there, he would have to be wary, so he resolved to have Hemble travel back to Riverdale by a

But he no longer feared arrest while in New York, a thing that would involve extradition: a drawnout

process coupled with a lot of notoriety. Very probably, Elbert wouldn't want his own name in the papers from

now on. In the opinion of Clive Walden, there was just one thing that Elbert Morion lived for, and that was

Until tonight, Clive and Elbert had rated equally in the matter; it was a known fact that their uncle had

According to Clive, Elbert was a man who believed that fiftyfifty should add to one hundred percent for

CLIVE was starting to express such opinions to Hemble as they crossed the hotel lobby, and Hemble had

already begun to nod, which was odd, considering how long it usually took the dullwitted watchman to

It didn't occur to Clive that Hemble might be nodding for another reason, for he never credited the fellow

It just happened that Hemble was much smarter than Clive supposed. Right under his companion's nose,

Hemble was giving the nod to two men who were lounging in a far corner of the lobby. Had Clive seen that

pair, he would have looked at them four times; twice for each. But he didn't happen to see them.

They weren't detectives. That was certain; in fact, too certain. They had the look of smart crooks, which they

were. One was Lippy Carther, so called because of his heavy lips. He was also noted for his ability with a

gun. The other was Mech Woodum; his nickname signified his mechanical skill in scientific pursuits, such as

Singly, those two could behave themselves, and did. Lippy, a lazy, stoopshouldered type, with sallow, tired

face, preferred the comfortable prop of a pool table to practicing target shooting with human ducks.

Mech had a real yen for mechanical matters and liked to tinker around repair shops; squatly of build, with

broad face and strong, stubby hands, he had the appearance of a bona fide mechanic.

But when the two combined, crime was their motive, and they spelled TNT. Each liked to blast in his own

particular way. It was crimedom's hope that the pair would some day land in a penitentiary together. In that

case, the prediction was that Lippy would snipe the guards while Mech would blow a hole so big in the

So far, Lippy and Mech hadn't been put to such a test, but they had handled plenty of others and were always

ready upon call. Such were the men who took the nod from a cluck named Hemble, at present holding down a

As soon as Hemble had gone out with Clive, Lippy sauntered over to the desk and asked the hotel clerk if

The clerk found an envelope addressed to Mr. Carther, and said that it had been left just a short while before.

Pocketing the envelope, Lippy sauntered from the lobby, and Mech followed. Without exchanging any

comments, they turned along the street and finally reached a parked car. Mech took the wheel, and Lippy slid

Lippy's eyes were good, but not good enough. After all, Clive Walden had taken a much longer look from his

hotelroom window and had also been deceived. The deceiving thing was the blackness just away from the

lighted entrance to the hotel. Blackness that looked solid, as most blackness did. Not being worried, Lippy

As the crooks pulled away in their car, the inky thickness materialized itself into a living shape. Skirting the

lighted area like a cloud of oily smoke, it showed itself briefly as a figure wearing a jethued cloak beneath a

Like a living ghost, the creature in black was swallowed again by darkness, which, in this case, was

represented by the interior of a waiting taxicab. As the mobsters turned the corner, the cab started up, its

driver impelled by the whispered command of the strange passenger in the back seat.

LIPPY had the envelope open and was reading its contents by the dash light, while Mech cruised the car

"Yeah," returned Lippy. "I thought he'd put us hep to why he's holding down that job in Connecticut. But he

"Maybe he's doing it for a gag," suggested Mech. "A watchman at a clock factory! A joke get it?"

"Making half a grand apiece ain't no joke. That's what Zeke Hemble will hand us for tonight."

"None," he replied. "This thing is a pipe. We've got to play it neat that's all. Zeke is going to drop off at the

clock plant and let a guy named Walden take his car over to the house, five miles away. That's where we go

"So one of us can do a dropoff and sneak the jellopy down the hill. where Walden can't find it. I'll handle

"You go over to the clock plant and bring Zeke. He'll grab his jellopy and whiz back where he belongs, while

we lam. If there's any trouble, we'll handle it. They won't have anything on Zeke. He'll be the same old

The idea of Zeke Hemble posing as a night watchman, and actually handling the task, pleased Mech Woodum

"What a setup!" Mech chuckled. "Those Riverdale joskins taking Zeke for a boob, while he puts the

"That's Zeke's business," returned Mech. "We'll handle our end of it, and let him take care of his."

Swerving the car, Mech took to a side street, something that Lippy couldn't understand. He remarked that

they weren't on the route to Riverdale, whereupon Mech retorted that he wasn't going to use his own car for

"I'm stopping off at a hotcar farm," he explained. "Those hustlers have been clouting too many heaps.

Lippy began to argue that a stolen car might bring trouble, but Mech promptly ruled him down.

"We don't get together often," said Mech. "Maybe some stoolie has been waiting to spot us, so he can spill

the word. They'll have this heap tagged, but they won't be looking for us in a hot one. Get it?"

In his turn, Lippy argued that they'd be out of town before the police could pick up their trail. Mech made a

"I'm not thinking about the cops," said Mech. "Ever hear of a guy called The Shadow? He's heard of us."

Mere mention of the dread name made Lippy jittery. With gunnery his specialty, Lippy had but narrowly

escaped The Shadow on more than one occasion. Anxiously, he looked back through the rear window. He

saw a cab among cars that were following them, but before he could notice it closely, something else jarred

Lippy turned with a yelp to find his right hand surrounded by a mass of flame. Madly, he beat out the fire,

and found his fingers pressing a few ashes of paper. Laughing, Mech tossed a dead match out of the car

"Just burning that note of Zeke's," returned Mech. "You won't need it any longer."

"Look it over, and remember it," suggested Mech. "Then get rid of it. We're pretty near the farm."

THE "farm" proved to be a sidestreet garage. As Mech pulled in, Lippy tore up the crude map and fluttered

the pieces from the window. Mech blinked his lights and the garage door opened. The car pulled in so quickly

The Shadow was deft at finding his way into garages. Suspecting that the mobsters intended to switch cars,

he planned to stop them before they came out. A narrow alley gave him access to a window; through it, he

A rear door was opening to another street, and The Shadow saw a car starting out. It wasn't the same car that

With a sudden sweep, The Shadow was half across the floor, an automatic in his gloved fist. From his hidden

lips rang a challenge that should have stopped the crooks right where they were: a mocking laugh that could

Along with the terror that it gave to men of crime, that mirth usually stupefied such bystanders as garage

This time, The Shadow's challenge brought a deluge in return. These weren't ordinary garage men; they were

hotcar hustlers, crooks with as much at stake as the men whom The Shadow sought to stop.

The men on the floor were the ones who yanked guns in answer to The Shadow. Seeing the flash of their

Guns blasted from everywhere except the car that Lippy and Mech had taken. It kept on its way in a great

hurry, while other gunners were aiming for The Shadow. More correctly, men were aiming for where they

saw The Shadow last. His whirl had become a fade in among the ranks of stolen cars that were undergoing

Amid the barks of useless weapons came the answering power of an automatic that stabbed its messages from

Staggering, howling, crooks sought cover. Some sagged to their knees; others propped themselves against car

They thought they were fighting for their lives, which, in their language, meant they would have to give death

to The Shadow. Wildly, they threw slugs among the cars, spraying fenders, doors and windshields with a rain

They might as well have been tossing spitballs. The Shadow wasn't anywhere around.

He had taken a zigzag route to the rear door in pursuit of the departing car. That door was the one place

where the gunners didn't look for him, for the garage men thought that The Shadow's arrival marked a raid

There were times when The Shadow arrived somewhere by accident, but crooks never recognized it. Without

realizing it, they were simply helping him pursue the quarry that he really wanted.

Mech and Lippy had swung a corner when The Shadow reached the rear street. Pausing in darkness, while

guns still beat a futile tattoo within the garage, The Shadow looked for his cab.

It was piloted by Moe Shrevnitz, a fastdriving hackie in The Shadow's sole employ, and Moe should have

But Moe, for once, wasn't on the job. Instead of the cab's familiar rumble, The Shadow heard only the wails

The hotcar farmers heard the sirens, too, and started for the rear exit. There, they were met by a laugh from

darkness, and the laugh had sting behind it, in the way of gunfire. Stumbling thugs flopped back to shelter,

Moe's cab suddenly wheeled into sight, just ahead of the police cars. The Shadow sprang into the cab, leaving

"Sorry, boss!" Moe was voicing his apology, as he whipped the cab around the corner. "I was picking these

The corner turned, Moe thrust a hand through the window and placed a clump of torn papers in The Shadow's

gloved hand. Then, eyes glued ahead, Moe was looking for a car that might be the one The Shadow wanted.

In his turn, The Shadow saw that the fugitive vehicle had passed from sight. He told Moe simply to avoid the

While Moe was doing it, The Shadow deftly pieced the torn papers. They proved a find, indeed. Rough

It marked the clock factory, the house, and the number of the highway that passed near both. Most important,

TEN minutes later, Moe's cab stopped in front of a little restaurant. Instead of The Shadow, a tall, leisurely

As he strolled into the restaurant, people recognized him by his calm, hawkish face that was quite immobile

The gentleman from the cab was Lamont Cranston, wealthy New York clubman. Of late, Cranston had dined

frequently at this restaurant, always with a young lady named Margo Lane, who happened to be awaiting him

They made a charming pair when they faced each other at a secluded table, the fastidious Mr. Cranston and

the alluring brunette across from him. But their conversation, conducted in an undertone, was by no means

"About Gail Trent," began Cranston in a casual tone, though Margo sensed that he wanted a rapid answer.

"It has for six months," returned Margo. "I've renewed it at the proper intervals. But you told me, quite a

while ago, Lamont, that the matter of Clive Walden was the sort that would run its own course."

"It's on the homestretch," Cranston announced, "and looks like a photo finish. Speaking of photographs, I'm

sorry I don't have one of Walden. I saw him this evening, but didn't recognize him."

The paradox rather puzzled Margo until Cranston detailed that he had been watching two other men, whose

ultimate destination had proven to be Riverdale. Having recalled a rather handsome chap who left the hotel

"I asked for Clive Walden," said Cranston, "and learned that he had checked out. I take it that he's gone to

"Where those other two are to meet him!" put in Margo breathlessly. "That's why he gave them the map!"

"We're not certain on that point, Margo. There was another chap with Walden, who looked like a Riverdale

product. Too much so, to suit me. He might have passed the map to Lippy and Mech. For that matter, they

"But they're already on the way," protested Margo, "and I'll have to call Gail, to remind her of the invitation.

What's more, I shall certainly have to pack. Gail would think it odd if I didn't bring some luggage."

Diners at other tables saw Cranston and Margo rise to leave the restaurant, and supposed they had

remembered an appointment that couldn't be postponed for something trivial like dinner.

The surmise was correct, more or less, but it didn't account for the reflective gaze on Margo's face, which

Margo had been pondering on the emphasis which Cranston had given the word "ahead;" though its stress

Cranston expected to reach the Browland estate, in Riverdale, ahead of others besides Margo. Specifically, he

would be ahead of Lippy Carther and Mech Woodum, though he might not overtake Clive Walden.

Dropping off at her apartment, Margo Lane watched Cranston's cab swing eastward and knew her theory was

right. Cranston was going to the airport, where he kept his wingless autogiro. Soon, that craft would be

spinning in a beeline, straight for Connecticut, aiming for a landing near Browland's Riverdale estate.

There was another detail that Margo mentally added. She knew that her friend Lamont Cranston would not

appear as pilot of that ship. Instead, like the giro itself, he would be a thing of darkness: The Shadow!

At this very moment, men of crime who were congratulating themselves upon having eluded The Shadow

were bound for another meeting with the same blackclad foe who had sent them into flight!

IT was very dark under the great elms where Clive Walden parked Hemble's car. Though Clive had small

opinion of the watchman's brainwork, he was forced to concede that the elms were a perfect choice. Reaching

the trees was easy, because they were on a slope, to which Clive coasted after cutting off the motor.

Furthermore, the space could be left in the same silent fashion, and the elms were located on a littleused

drive where the parked car wasn't visible to anyone who entered the grounds by the usual route of the large

Perhaps if Clive had seen Hemble's friends, the ones who knew the man as Zeke, he would have sensed the

full situation. As it was, Clive hadn't an idea that Zeke was teamed up with crooks.

As least, Clive Walden was operating on his own, and needed no such helpers for the showdown that he

Stealing out between the elms, Clive saw the looming mansion a great, scraggly bulk that magnified itself

to towering proportions in the night. The huge house was farther up the slope and thus added the hill's height

Previously, all his visits to his uncle's house had been quite open, his method of approach directly from the

Against the hulking shape, Clive saw lights from windows; they looked very dim because the rooms were

Avoiding the front, Clive skirted toward a level space where a driveway cut past a side door. In the old days it

had been a portecochere, used as a carriage entrance, with an extended roof set upon wooden pillars.

Much though Tobias Browland lived in the past, the old man had been forced to have that roof removed

because the entrance was too narrow for automobiles. All that remained of the portecochere was an

ornamental cornice outside the hallway window on the second floor. The cornice was of marble and showed

As Clive expected, the door was unlocked. He entered carefully, however, ready at any moment to drop back

and slide into the shrubbery that lined the entrance. Encountering no challengers, he moved in from the

Across it, he saw the curtains that represented the dining room. There were lights beyond the curtains, and

The curtains stirred, signifying that a servant was coming from the dining room. Clive took quickly to a

This was an old section of the house, preserved from Revolutionary days, and it brought Clive flush against a

door that was hardly wider than his shoulders. The door had a closed bolt, heavy and oldfashioned.

He went through sideways and half a dozen paces brought him to a narrow stairway almost as steep as a

ladder. Moving up the creaky steps, Clive felt his shoulders brush the wall on either side. These were the old

They had a tragic history: at least three members of the Browland family had fallen down those stairs in the

course of two centuries, and Clive recalled that none of the unfortunates had survived. Keeping those stairs

At the top, Clive encountered a closed door, locked from the other side, but it was no trick to open it. Using a

pocketknife, he pushed it through the keyhole and forced the key out from the other side, where it dropped

Probing under the door with a pencil, Clive found the key and worked it through, breaking the pencil point in

From his side, he unlocked the door, and then came the only difficult part. The door opened inward, over the

stairs themselves, and swinging it wasn't easy from this side, as Clive had to retire down the steps to do it.

His position was slightly precarious as the door swung toward his left, but he grabbed to the right and caught

a post of an old, forgotten balustrade that ran along a ledge on the level of the second floor.

The door, in its turn, came flush with a narrow ledge on the other side, and Clive ascended, drawing the door

MOVING along the hallway, Clive passed his uncle's study. The door was invitingly ajar and the room was

lighted; but instead of stopping, Clive continued past a corner and reached the top of the main stairway which

He listened again for voices, and heard them, Gail's among them. The sounds carried well from the dining

Impatiently, he turned and went back to the study. Crossing its threshold, he gazed about at a scene that was

all too familiar. Tobias Browland never rearranged his study. It was exactly as Clive had seen it six months

He saw the massive, flattopped desk, with the ornate lamp upon it. The roomlight came from the

oldfashioned lamp, and it gleamed upon the antique inkstand and the quill pen that stood upright in a little

container filled with birdshot. Across the room was the large fireplace with its gargoyle andirons; the tongs

There were the bookshelves, of course, behind Browland's desk, and the volumes looked as though they had

not been touched for years. In the far wall, Clive saw Browland's ancient safe, the old one that he had brought

here from the factory. It occupied its own special alcove, and it was, indeed, a relic.

They made their safes fancy in the old days. This one had double doors, with a dial in the center. It was

painted black, and it was decorated with gold. The name "Tobias Browland" ran in a curve across the front,

above the dial. Gilded ornaments were painted beneath, and even the gold border around the safe front was

It wasn't the sort of safe that would bother a modern expert. Clive's lips gave a bitter twist when he

remembered how another safe, the new one at the office, had contributed to his present ill repute.

If anyone found him here, alone in a room containing a safe, he'd probably be accused of another crime.

People wouldn't stop to consider that this safe in Browland's study held nothing of great value. Clive

The study safe was simply the repository for old historical records of the clock factory, some old books that

Browland had collected, and various family heirlooms no more remarkable than the inkstand on the desk.

They were better than junk, those items; they might bring several hundred dollars if sold to interested

purchasers, but they weren't the sort of stuff that a thief could fence at worthwhile profit. They were so

There were some sheets of writing paper lying on the desk. Taking one, Clive drew a pencil from his pocket

and started to write a note. Finding the pencil broken, he used pen and ink instead, replacing the quill exactly

Noting a black blotter on the desk, Clive decided it was safe to use it, and did. He was folding the note when

It was a beautiful old clock, with posts of polished brass supporting its glass panels. It had an ornamental

face, with a border of rhinestones that had become dull through age. Its chimes were clear and musical, but

not overloud. When they began, they awoke responses from other parts of the house.

Little clocks tinkled; from downstairs, a great grandfather's clock was chiming, while a series of bongs toned

from the direction of the kitchen. Like the clock on the study mantel, those others bore the name "Tobias

When the chorus of dingdongs ended, Clive heard an echoing series of tinkles from a distant room and

knew that his uncle would be annoyed. Old Browland always listened to the clocks, and didn't like it when

PERHAPS Clive's ears were keener when he listened for the clock notes. He caught a sound from the front

stairs and knew that his uncle was coming up. Hurriedly, Clive left the study and turned into a side passage.

He was just out of sight when he turned to see his uncle approaching the study. He spied only Browland's

Then Clive himself was approaching a room. It was Gail's room; the door was shut, so Clive thrust the folded

note under the door. Taking a circuitous route among the labyrinth of hallways, he passed the window above

There, rather than go past the open study where his uncle was, Clive descended cautiously to the front hall.

Outside the dining room, he paused to listen. Hearing two voices in earnest conversation, he lifted the edge of

the curtain and looked through. He saw his cousin, Elbert Morion, talking to Gail Trent.

Gripping the curtain with one hand, the doorway with the other, Clive restrained his growing impulse to step

Mere sight of Elbert angered Clive. His cousin was handsome in a sleek way. Elbert's profile, as Clive saw it,

was somewhat overpointed and marked him as a man of talkative type. But when Elbert talked, he put an

He was very persuasive, particularly with ladies, and Clive received the annoying impression that Elbert was

Certainly, the girl was listening intently. Her very lovely face was genuinely earnest. When she nodded, Clive

saw that she wasn't aware of the stray locks of fluffy brown hair that drooped waywardly upon her forehead.

Clive didn't like it; he felt that if anyone had a right to convince Gail of anything, that person was himself.

"So you see, Gail," Elbert was saying, "it wasn't the question of the estate that caused me to denounce Clive. I

Gail nodded; then her hazel eyes showed bewilderment. She expressed the thing that she couldn't understand.

"But why should your uncle transfer Clive's share to me?" she queried. "I'm not related to him."

"It is reason enough for me," interposed Elbert. "You see, Gail, I wouldn't want to profit by Clive's loss. It

would make it look as though I falsely accused him of rifling the office safe in the clock factory. I only did

"I know you feel that way, Elbert." Gail paused, then added: "But why should I be the one to profit?"

Elbert smiled suavely, and Clive hated him the more. It took more ounces of restraint on Clive's part when he

"I don't know," the girl replied slowly. "I think I was once, Elbert, but I am no longer sure."

"If you marry Clive," reminded Elbert, "he will get his share of the estate through you. I won't stand in your

When Elbert gave assurance, Clive invariably doubted it. But he let his doubt rest for the present. He heard a

In accordance with his usual plan, Clive reserved the showdown for the future. As he turned to sneak across

the hall, he heard Elbert tell Gail that Hadley Corring, the lawyer, would soon arrive.

GOING out by the carriage door, Clive followed the drive toward the rear of the house. A sudden sweep of

light curved in from the front lawn, caused by the headlights of an automobile that was coming in by the

Clive dived for the house wall; against the gray stone, he showed as a darting figure trying to escape the

Clive doubted that he had been seen from the car, which he was quite sure belonged to Corring, the lawyer. In

ducking into the shrubs, he looked back over his shoulder and saw that the lights no longer bored upon him.

It was a figure, more fleeting than his own. A shape revealed so briefly, so grotesquely, that he scarcely

granted it reality. Momentarily, it reminded Clive of a mammoth bat; then he had the exaggerated impression

Those were momentary impressions only, for the phantom shape faded so immediately that it seemed no

It was real enough, that shape that Clive saw. The Shadow had arrived at the Browland mansion. Oddly, it

didn't occur to Clive that so strange a creature of the night, if it existed, could have caught sight of him in the

By the time that Corring's car stopped by the carriage entrance, Clive was around the back corner of the

house. He was too far away to hear the whispered laugh that muffled itself and was lost amid the breeze that

The mirth was proof that The Shadow had spied Clive Walden and was moving close upon his trail!

THE doorbell clanged loudly when Corring rang it. A stolidfaced servant answered the summons and

admitted the lawyer. Corring entered the house, revealing himself as a dryfaced man whose gray hair

"Good evening, Ambrose," said Corring in an affable tone. "Where will I find Mr. Browland?"

Before Ambrose could answer, Elbert Morion stepped from the dining room and advanced, his hand stretched

"Glad to see you, Mr. Corring," said Elbert. "Uncle Tobias is in the study. Ambrose will show you up. I shall

"Why did your uncle send for Corring?" she asked. "He isn't his regular lawyer, is he?"

"I think that he is going to be," replied Elbert, with a smile. "Our other attorney, Grath, is too prejudiced in

"I was speaking for Uncle Tobias," interposed Elbert smoothly. "He is prejudiced against Clive. If he were

The statement left Gail blank, as Elbert's canny logic so often did. Elbert liked it when Gail went blank. He

approached the girl, rested his hand lightly upon her arm and drew her unresistingly toward him.

"If you would only trust me, Gail." The words were honeyed from Elbert's lips. "Trust me, and believe me.

You would then understand that my love is more real than Clive's. Love unexpressed is always stronger. The

Almost without realizing it, Gail was in Elbert's embrace. His circling arm was comforting, his dark eyes had

Gail's face was tilted upward; she was offering her lips for the first kiss that Elbert had so long awaited, when

the swing of the door in from the kitchen suddenly cast romance into oblivion. Elbert was annoyed, Gail was

The arrival was Jasper, the other servant. He was taller, thinner than Ambrose and a bit softfooted. Jasper

"I'd like the key to the liquor closet, sir," the servant said. "Mr. Corring prefers a special brandy. Mr.

Browland wanted the bottle taken to the study, but I am afraid that Ambrose forgot."

"I shall remind Ambrose," returned Elbert, testily. "The brandy is in his department, Jasper."

Elbert turned on his heel and started upstairs, while Jasper bowed himself back into the kitchen. Gail smiled,

despite herself. She remembered that Jasper liked to serve special liquors because he enjoyed sampling them.

Elbert hadn't forgotten Jasper's trait; hence he was delegating the duty to Ambrose.

Since Elbert was going upstairs, Gail decided to do the same. She wanted to look at the guest room and see

that it was properly arranged for Margo Lane, who had called awhile ago to accept Gail's standing invitation

There were a few items in Gail's own room that might make the guest room more comfortable. So Gail

FROM the moment she plucked the folded paper from the floor, Gail was breathless. She was sure that it was

a message from Clive, and she recognized his writing the moment that she opened the paper.

It was written in red ink which added to its imperative touch. The note was brief, another feature that

Clive had simply stated that he must see Gail as soon as possible; that he would be waiting for her in the old

summerhouse in back of the mansion. He hadn't included his own name nor any signature. They weren't

Standing with the paper gripped between her hands, Gail underwent a medley of emotions. Her memories of

Clive surged upon her like the sweep of waves upon a beach. They were washing away those mounds of sand

Reason wasn't to be considered where love was concerned. Gail loved Clive; the thrill she received from this

message convinced her. Any rational attempt to transfer such affection to Elbert was entirely out of the

Yet Gail felt a regret where Elbert was concerned. It faded when she heard him come from the study. Fearful

that Elbert might find her holding Clive's note, Gail crumpled it and dropped it into the wastebasket, along

with some other wadded pieces of note paper that she had thrown away that afternoon.

Stepping from her room, Gail met Elbert in the hall. He was going downstairs, so she accompanied him.

They reached a nook in the corner of a great library where shelves of books rose from floor to ceiling. They

"Uncle Tobias wants them to witness the new will," Elbert explained. "Of course, I can't witness it because I

"If Ambrose and Jasper are witnesses," she said, "it means that they will receive nothing from your uncle.

"After all these years," put in Elbert, picking up Gail's statement, "Uncle Tobias can rely upon me to take care

Somehow, Elbert's mention of sharing brought back his recent proposal. Probably he was thinking that he and

Gail would share everything in the future. The thought horrified the girl, as it wouldn't have a short while

Elbert was explaining exactly how the will was made. The house and all the property surrounding it would be

Gail's share, the legacy which had formerly been allotted to Clive. All of Tobias Browland's personal effects

They included the library, valuable portraits and other paintings, even the clocks. Of course, the business

records and the heirlooms would be Elbert's, too. Roughly, the apportionments were equal, for Tobias

"I'm glad you're keeping the house," said Elbert in a sentimental tone. "You'll have the fixtures and the

furniture, of course; in fact, everything that isn't specified as mine, Gail. I think that Clive would have sold

Gail gave a nod. She liked the old mansion and its furniture, and had often said that Browland's study should

"You can keep the study clock, Gail, along with the rest of the smaller things there. Of course, the desk, the

safe, the fixtures, will be yours anyway. This library, the paintings, all of uncle's various collections, are

He was getting back to the unfinished business in the dining room, and Gail regretted the weak moments

when she had yielded to his persuasive words of love. She had to find a quick excuse to leave the library.

"You can call me when she arrives," decided Gail. "I'll slip on a negligee and come downstairs. Meanwhile, a

GAIL started from the library, and Elbert followed. He wanted to induce her to remain, but couldn't think of a

Elbert's mind was partly on the study; he knew he might be summoned there, any moment. So he smiled at

In her own room, Gail was a bit awed by the task ahead. She was afraid that Elbert would reverse his

expressions of good will toward Clive if he knew that his missing cousin had returned. He might guess the

The thing to do was prepare the full pretense, and find a chance to meet Clive, in between. So Gail decided

She undressed hurriedly, put on a nightie and tucked herself into bed. Lights out and door ajar, she listened

intently for her opportunity to slip downstairs. Her slippers were right beside the bed and her negligee was in

the closet, and so was her fur coat. She was thinking in terms of the coat, rather than the negligee.

At last, she heard the study door open. They were calling Elbert, and Gail waited tensely, until he had

actually come up the stairs. Sliding from the bed, she picked up her slippers and stole to the closet, where she

Still carrying the slippers to avoid their clatter, Gail stepped softfooted from her room and took the

In the study, Tobias Browland was standing at his desk. A tall, imposing man despite his years and a recent

On the desk lay the new will. It was typewritten, and ran to two pages. The first page was turned back, and on

the next, Browland's signature stood out in purple ink. Beneath it were the signatures of Ambrose and Jasper,

Folding the top sheet back as Elbert approached the desk, Browland handed the will to Corring. The lawyer

With a broad smile, Browland told Ambrose to pour another glass of brandy for Corring.

All that while, Gail was moving silently down the stairway, clutching the banister with one hand, and looking

back over her shoulder. She could see the light from the study door, shining with a bluish gleam from the

strong desk lamp. The men were out of sight, but their voices had halted and Gail was afraid they might hear

She went clear across the hall, to the little passage to the side door, before putting on her slippers.

That done, Gail was still careful to avoid any clatter. On tiptoe, she was drawing her fur coat about her,

A man moved in from the dark, and Gail stepped back from the vestibule, her lips eagerly phrasing a

Then, in the light of the hall, Gail Trent halted, chilled despite the thickness of the fur garment that enveloped

her. Who the man from the dark might be, she couldn't tell. He might be Clive, for all she knew, for there was

The man was masked. His eyes peered from the slits of a blue bandanna handkerchief that had its corners

dangling down to hide his entire face. His darkgray hat was drawn low upon his forehead. His only

utterance was a lowvoiced snarl that anyone could have chosen as an audible threat.

To back that threat, the masked man gripped a revolver; his hand, thrust forward, pressed the muzzle close to

Gail's breast. So close, that the thumps of her heart seemed to pound against the metal itself.

Crime had come to this mansion. Death loomed as a threat to those within the house, and Gail Trent was the

first to meet with the pressing menace. Whatever its purpose, crime was taking sway despite the presence of

MOVING steadily forward, the masked invader gave a sideward twist with his gun that pivoted Gail full

about. Instinctively, the girl knew that he wanted her to turn around and raise her hands.

Gail could feel the slide of the muzzle along the fur until it prodded her anew in the center of her back. Then

she was beginning a slow march straight toward those stairs that she had so recently descended, and

Perhaps the pressure of the gun was keeping her on tiptoe. At least, her slippers didn't clatter as she had

feared. On the steps, it became even easier. Going up was a silent process, particularly when life depended

upon it. That life did depend on such a threat was evidenced by the whisper close to Gail's ear.

Even the voice was muffled by the masking handkerchief. It sounded much like Clive's; too much, to please

Gail. Still, she couldn't be sure, for the whisper was forced and the acoustics of the lower hall were very poor.

She'd need more than a whisper to identify this man as Clive, or anyone else that she might know.

The halfhour chimes sounding from the grandfather's clock were like a death march, ending unfinished. Gail

Fortunately, the slight noise she made was timed to the last chime. Steady again, she was pacing toward the

It was slowly dawning on her that his goal was the study itself; that she had merely interrupted his trip there.

On the very threshold of the room, Gail paused abruptly, facing the men within. They turned at sight of her.

Old Tobias Browland was towering behind his desk, with Elbert Morion just beside him. Over by the

fireplace, Hadley Corring was staring Gail's way over the brim of a lifted brandy glass. Ambrose and Jasper

looked stupefied at sight of the girl in a fur coat, which, no longer drawn tightly, showed patches of a

Then Gail was sprawling across the floor, shoved roughly by the man behind her. She tangled in the fur coat

as she fell and lost one slipper that went sliding somewhere beneath Browland's desk.

Like the coat, Gail was askew, a shoulder emerging from one fold of the fur, a knee from the other. Ambrose

and Jasper were coming forward to help her to her feet, while Elbert was stirring from beside the desk.

The masked man stopped them with a snarl. For the first time, they looked his way.

He was no longer concerned with Gail. She was out of the situation as much as a rug on the floor. The

invader was sweeping his gun savagely about the semicircle, as though ready to jab a shot at instant notice.

Men were letting their hands come up. Brandy trickled from Corring's tilting glass and licked down his

fingers. Nervously, he let the glass fall. It crashed on the stone hearth. The masked man wheeled toward

That was the moment when old Browland showed his stuff. Uncle Tobias wasn't going to see a guest

murdered before his eyes. Wheeling to his right, toward Elbert, Browland began to pounce toward a corner

That walking stick was Browland's favorite weapon. He used it to beat off vicious dogs and thrash rowdies

who trespassed on his property. If this masked man wanted a showdown, Browland intended to give him one,

The bellow that Browland voiced was a mistake. It told his intent, and the masked man was about before old

Tobias could get underway. Elbert intervened, in a fashion that captured Gail's whole admiration as she stared

WITH his left hand, Elbert sent his uncle back behind the desk, where Browland caught himself as he landed

in his chair. Lunging low across the desk, Elbert was well beneath the level of the first shot the masked man

Then, with his right hand, Elbert grabbed the ancient inkstand. Sidling off from the desk, he slung it at the

masked man just as the fellow sidestepped toward the door to get a better angle of aim.

The invader actually had a bead on Elbert, but couldn't hold it. The inkstand was flying in his direction, and

he made an instinctive duck to avoid it. Tilting upward, the revolver merely poked a bullet into the filigreed

Ambrose and Jasper were at the fireplace. Bowling Corring aside, they grabbed the fire tongs and poker,

respectively. On hands and knees, Gail scrambled from their path so they could charge at the foe who

The bullet crashed the desk lamp at its bulkiest part. Bashing the metal standard, it sent the whole lump

tumbling to the floor, where the glass shade shattered, along with the lighted bulb, darkening the room,

Elbert was quite safe; not only had he dropped below the path of fire, but the lamp had stopped the bullet

short of him. The clatter of the falling cane told that Elbert was deep in the corner.

Elbert's bravery had certainly stemmed the attack; now, Ambrose and Jasper were taking over. Coming from

the darkness, armed with metal bludgeons from the fireplace, they were a real threat, and the masked man

He sprang from the room, slamming the door in the faces of the servants. Madly, Ambrose and Jasper tried to

get the door open, and bungled each other's effort. Elbert almost tripped over Gail as he hurried to join them.

Then the door was open and Gail saw Elbert pressing out into the hall along with the servants. Ambrose and

Jasper went toward the front stairs, but Elbert turned the other way, shouting for them to follow him. Gail

Reaching the hall with Corring, Gail saw that the door to the old stairway was open. Elbert was diving

beyond the doorway, and as he went, a revolver barked up from the darkness. Then there was a clatter from

In single file, Ambrose and Jasper sprang down the old stairs after him, and Corring followed, carrying the

corked brandy bottle as a weapon. Elbert was on his feet when the lawyer reached the stairs, and he was

It was all quite vague in the dim light of the hall, but Gail managed to make out what happened. She decided

to go down by the front stairs; lacking one slipper, she tripped as she started that direction.

Coming from the study, Browland saw the girl stumble and came her way instead of following the others by

the old stairs. Gail was clutching the banister at the top of the front stairway when Browland gripped her arm.

He didn't want her to go down, but Gail insisted, so Browland accompanied her. As they reached the hall

The masked man was in the vestibule, wangling his gun. He was holding the servants at bay; behind them

were Elbert and Corring, who had likewise come through the passage leading from the bottom of the old,

The invader had only two shots left. He knew that if he used them, he would still have pursuers upon his trail.

Apparently, his gun gestures, the incoherent snarls that accompanied them, were offers of a compromise. If

At that moment, he saw Gail and turned his gun her way. The others, looking about, realized that the masked

Browland reached to draw Gail behind him, but was stopped by a vicious gesture from the revolver.

Gail saw Elbert, screened by the servants, reaching for Corring's brandy bottle, intending to throw it as he had

the inkstand. It would suffice, at least, to spoil the masked man's aim if he fired at Gail.

By then, the masked man's hand was behind him; he found the door and opened it. He was aiming his gun;

whether he intended to fire or make a quick dart away, was still a question, when an unexpected answer

IT came in the form of fantastic blackness, a figure that shaped itself from the night itself, looming in like a

Out of that shape, Gail alone saw blackgloved hands, one gripping the masked man's gun wrist, the other

The revolver spoke once. Its jab was toward the ceiling of the vestibule, for its owner was folding backward

under the grip of The Shadow. Letting the fellow deliver useless shots was simply policy on The Shadow's

But with the single shot, Gail shrieked convulsively, as mere relief for her tautened nerves.

Her scream brought double results. Elbert flung the brandy bottle. It shattered against the door of the

vestibule, spattering both The Shadow and his prey with its contents. The other result came from outside.

Another man, hearing the shot and Gail's scream, sprang up from the shrubbery, to grapple with the living

The man from the bushes was Clive Walden. The masked man in The Shadow's grip was Zeke Hemble, for

The Shadow had pulled the mask aside enough to get a close view of the crook's face.

But The Shadow was gripping Zeke no longer. Instead, he sent the fellow sprawling in from the vestibule for

others to grab. The Shadow, in his turn, was being throttled by Clive, and had to ward off the new attacker.

Thanks to Clive's misguided effort, Zeke didn't travel far under The Shadow's shove. He came about in time

to avoid both capture and recognition by Elbert and the others who were charging his way. Pointblank, Zeke

This time, Zeke wasn't going to miss. He was holding his final shot as he lunged toward the door, intending

Zeke's pause was too long. The Shadow and Clive took the dive, but not in the direction Zeke expected.

Instead, they went sideward, off into the shrubbery, impelled that direction by The Shadow.

Zeke heard them lash the bushes as he came through the door. He stopped only long enough to aim at

blackness just below the side of the steps. Pulling the trigger, he gave a gleeful snarl.

Satisfied that he had at least wounded The Shadow, Zeke sprang across the driveway and off into the

darkness, ahead of Elbert and the rest who pursued him. Hearing him dash across the gravel, all four followed

Only Tobias Browland and Gail Trent remained in the mansion, listening to the shouts of four men who were

all in pursuit of one. But Gail was thinking of another a rescuer who had come and gone so rapidly that he

Of all those who had stared from within the mansion, viewing inexplicable happenings at the doorway, Gail

A SILENT struggle was underway deep in the shrubbery. It was beginning when Zeke fired, and his lone shot

hadn't disturbed it. For The Shadow, knowing that the masked fugitive would deliver the shot, was certainly

There was plenty of blackness close to the steps, but none of it contained The Shadow, as Zeke should have

realized when he didn't catch sight of The Shadow's antagonist, Clive Walden. In his great lunge, The

Naturally, Clive landed first. Unwary fighters always did, when they grappled with The Shadow. He used

Usually, with The Shadow's weight added to their own, such sprawlers crumpled; but Clive hadn't. The bed

Recent happenings were rather twisted, in the opinion of The Shadow. Whether Clive Walden proved honest

or crooked, he wouldn't be helping things for himself, or The Shadow, by bringing the hunt in this direction.

The muffling element was The Shadow's cloak. He had it off his shoulders and over Clive's head, its folds

tightened around his adversary's neck, much as one would twist a sack. Flat on the ground, Clive found his

struggles suppressed by The Shadow's elbows and knees, which pinned him during the garroting process.

Gargling sounds ended within the tightened cloak; Clive went entirely limp. The Shadow arose and drew

He had handed out stiff medicine; but in this case, there had been no other choice. At least, it was sufficient

and Clive would soon get over it. When men fought against that slowchoking process, their strength spent

It would be ten minutes, at least, before Clive really recuperated, and that was much less time than The

Without bothering to reclaim his cloak or look for his hat in the shrubbery, The Shadow emerged and cut

across the gravel. He had good reason for leaving Clive twisted in the cloak. He didn't want anyone to find

the fellow during his own absence. The Shadow intended to return and haul Clive away somewhere for a very

Besides, The Shadow had no time to lose. He couldn't spare even the quarter minute needed to regain his garb

and put it on. He was remembering the map that Moe had picked up outside the hotcar farm. Its features

A tiny flashlight twinkled beneath the big elms. Its beam showed that Zeke's car was no longer there.

Someone had coasted that car away while The Shadow, following Corring's arrival, had taken up Clive's

blind trail to the summerhouse. The same shots that brought The Shadow to the mansion had brought Clive,

But it couldn't have been Zeke who coasted the car. It was either Lippy Carther or Mech Woodum, the pair of

Manhattan bad men who had come to this vicinity, arriving after being overtaken by The Shadow.

It didn't require expert deduction to tell where they had taken the car. There was only one path along which it

Somewhere below, Zeke Hemble would soon be getting into that car, probably close to a spot that was

marked on his map. He would be going one way, Lippy and Mech another. The hunt for a missing masked

Flashlights were blinking everywhere. Cars were coming in by the main gate, some with spotlights that swept

across the broad lawns. A big floodlight was beaming from the mansion, probably turned on by Tobias

Of course, Clive wasn't found yet; he was lying too close to the house. It was The Shadow, now attired as

Zigzagging from his course to avoid the glare, The Shadow paused in the very shelter of a car that had come

The car had a searchlight, but it was pointed in the direction opposite to The Shadow's approach. Close by the

One was Elbert Morion; the other the servant, Jasper. Elbert was dangling a revolver; Jasper held a bandanna

mask. They gave the trophies to a longjawed man who was wearing a leather jacket and an oversized felt

"We found these near the driveway, sheriff," informed Elbert. "They belong to the man who invaded the

"I heard about it from that lawyer fellow, Corring," he drawled. "Whoever the man is, we'll find him. I have a

"A tipoff," was the laconic reply. "Somebody phoned, said there'd be trouble here. Told us to wait at the

main gate until he joined us. We were there, waiting, when the shooting started."

The Shadow was moving away, making a speedy detour back to the old driveway. This was indeed a snare

deluxe. Crooks themselves had phoned that tipoff. It hadn't hurt their plans, at all; instead, it had aided them.

Waiting at the gate, the sheriff and his posse were too far away at the start. When shots brought them, Zeke

was already in flight, after chucking away his mask and gun. Flight that took him the other way, toward

True, the sheriff's men had spread in circle formation. But Zeke was outside the circle, as were his comrades.

Closing in, the deputies would surely bag Clive. Maybe Clive was lucky to be lying senseless; at least, it

But it didn't signify that Clive was nothing more than a poor, innocent dupe. This situation might have the

Whatever the situation, The Shadow intended to alter it, very promptly. He, too, was slipping the cordon, and

His flashlight close to the ground, The Shadow was picking the course of the old driveway. Well below the

house, he found that it curved amid the trees, and leveled at a fork. There, The Shadow paused to listen.

At first, he heard nothing but the tumult of a small creek that marked the boundary of Browland's

wellwooded estate. Then he caught other sounds: the slight tumble of small stones from an embankment;

There was a thud as the arrival reached the portion of the drive that forked to The Shadow's right; then, the

Silently, The Shadow stalked him, but the man gained in the darkness. The next sound that The Shadow

heard was that of an automobile starter. Zeke was in his car; he had found it where his pals had coasted it. He

was going to pick his way along the darkened drive and leave the grounds by a rear exit.

THOUGH guised as Cranston, The Shadow might well have been a stalking shape of blackness, judging by

the challenge with which he halted Zeke's departure. That challenge was a strange, sinister laugh that crept

Zeke must have waited, to listen. He finally used the starter again; this time, the motor throbbed. Again, The

Shadow's laugh crept from the darkness. This time, its eerie tone was ahead of Zeke's car.

A car door clattered open. Zeke was frantic, crouching somewhere near the car, hoping to hear the laugh

again. So The Shadow voiced it, and Zeke thought he had it spotted. He opened fire with a spare gun that he

kept hidden in the car, and aimed his shots toward the spot from which he thought the laugh came.

Zeke was wrong by about forty feet. The laugh challenged him from a new location. Madly, Zeke wheeled

In response came the report of an automatic. It missed Zeke by a scant foot and clanged the fender of his car.

Madly, Zeke fired for The Shadow's gun spurt, only to receive a reply from another direction.

The crook scrambled wildly from the vicinity of his car. The Shadow's second shot had almost skimmed him.

Even in Cranston's attire, The Shadow was unseen in this thick darkness; for that matter, Zeke was practically

the same. It was just that The Shadow moved about and picked his aim more sensibly than Zeke did. So

sensibly, in fact, that the thuggish watchman was lucky to be still alive. The Shadow could easily have

Actually, The Shadow was working to a different purpose. He was deliberately missing Zeke by inches, to

edge the crook away from his ear. The Shadow's fire was the very thing that would bring the sheriff and his

men, that they might capture the real invader who had entered the Browland mansion and make him tell his

The Shadow's gun was doing all the talking, and his laugh accompanied it. Zeke was afraid even to fire at the

Knowing that his car was marked, Zeke was scrambling up the embankment, hoping to dash away across the

edge of the lawn where the going was faster. He ducked back suddenly as a big light, from a car that was

swinging over the lawn, glared in his direction. Then, fearing The Shadow more, Zeke came up, aiming at

As Zeke fired, a hand plucked from the embankment behind him and spilled him into the fringe of trees. The

Shadow's grab sent the murderous shots wide. Then flashlights were focused hard on Zeke, and he staggered

The deputies were swifter; they blasted with whatever weapons they had. Zeke was the central point of that

combined fire. He was dead before he struck the turf; his watchman's revolver flipped from his hand.

Then the glare from the approaching car was slicing the embankment at an angle, for it had crossed the lawn

and reached the trees. It outlined another figure, and the deputies were making a great hue and cry. The man

that they saw was Cranston; they didn't know that he was fighting on their side.

Much did The Shadow wish for his habitual garb of black, as he sped back along the forgotten drive,

zigzagging from creek to embankment. Half a dozen men were after him, and he couldn't quite manage a

perfect fadeout. They were shooting, and he returned the fire, purposely aiming high. It seemed the only

Not these. They had finished Zeke too easily. They wanted to nail the man who was still dodging them.

One gun exhausted, The Shadow drew another. He was at the fork, stabbing shots up in the tree branches,

when a man launched from a rock beside him. The fellow was a deputy, slinging a gun as he came.

The Shadow warded the blow but partially. Receiving a glancing stroke, he stumbled groggily, then flung his

The deputy ducked. Slicing through the brush, The Shadow came atop a large rock and rolled across it,

intending to do some shooting with his other gun. The rock proved a better bulwark than he wanted. The drop

Losing his good gun as he grabbed for the rock, The Shadow took the plunge, and crumpled when he struck

Out of the cloak and hat that were famous as his battle garb, The Shadow was out of battle, as well.

THREE men were viewing the dead body of Hemble, the night watchman from the clock factory. Two of

those men knew Hemble quite well, though they did not call him by his nickname, Zeke. One man was Elbert

"It's Hemble, all right," observed Elbert, in a moody tone. "What he was doing over here, I can't understand.

"Maybe the masked man showed up there first," declared the sheriff. "Hemble might have followed him

"I'm not sure, Mr. Morion, but the voice over the phone was something like Hemble's."

The third man in the group gave a dry smile. He was Corring, the lawyer. He spoke in a rather sarcastic tone.

"It wouldn't occur to either of you," suggested Corring, "that Hemble could have been the masked man who

Both Elbert and the sheriff promptly vetoed Corring's theory. They argued that Hemble couldn't possibly

have reached this area while the deputies were closing in. Elbert was quite sure that the masked man must

"I'm wondering about Clive Walden," he said slowly. "This night is certainly one that my precious cousin

would have chosen to return home, provided he knew about the new will that Uncle Tobias made."

"Say, that's something!" exclaimed the sheriff. "Walden might have gone to the factory first, maybe to get at

"Hemble was rather stupid," said Elbert, regretfully. "Clive made a dupe of him once, and might have done it

"Let's get over to the factory," suggested the sheriff, "and see if we can find any evidence there."

Even though Hemble had fallen while shooting at the deputies, there was still reason to doubt that he was a

crook. Another gunner had been active in this area; some of the deputies were inclined to believe that they

Engaged in a fight to begin with, Hemble might have mistaken the deputies for other persons. The trouble

was, none of the searchers could find the man, or men, who had represented the opposition. The only

evidence that they brought back was a .45 automatic, which the sheriff took along with Hemble's revolver.

One deputy found some spare cartridges lying near a rock; The Shadow had brought them out, intending to

Perhaps a longer search would have uncovered Cranston, but the sheriff assumed that any strangers had fled

far, by this time. He felt it more important that his men rejoin the slim cordon up by the mansion, and tighten

the net. He argued and both Elbert and Corring agreed that the masked man who began the trouble might

Since Hembel's car was handy, the sheriff suggested that they use it for the trip to the clock factory. Elbert

and Corring joined him; they pulled away, while the deputies clambered up the embankment.

FOR several minutes, only the soft music of tumbling waters disturbed the darkened scene. Then, above the

water's babble, came the sound of men who were clattering across the creek, from rock to rock. They stopped

"Zeke called the tin star. He figured the guy would bring along a lot of jabonies. Shaking them should have

Lippy wasn't quite so pessimistic. He argued that Zeke was the watchman, or "bugster," as Lippy chose to

term it, at the clock factory. Maybe Zeke had squared himself with the Johnny Laws, and gone back with

"Not much chance," gruffed Mech. "We heard Zeke do a skid off the big rock, didn't we?"

Using flashlights, the mobsters came under the lee of the big rock and discovered the sprawled form of

Though lack of his black garb had brought The Shadow to this plight, his present identity served him well.

Lippy and Mech had been too far away to hear the laughs that had so confused Zeke. The Shadow's second

automatic had fallen between two rocks; hence the crooks had no idea that he was anyone but Cranston.

In fact, they didn't know that he was Cranston. They merely classed him as some stuffed shirt who must have

been at the party in the mansion. Probably trailing Zeke, he'd slipped from a rock and come to grief.

"This guy ain't Walden," declared Lippy. "We saw Walden down at the hotel. He's got a cousin, though."

The car was parked across the creek; Mech had driven it there through a shallow ford. Working back across

the rocks, the thugs managed to drag Cranston with them, though they did considerable splashing on the way.

They loaded their unconscious prisoner in the rear seat of the stolen sedan. Piloting the car out through the

Knowing that only a few men had gone there, the crooks were sure that they could prowl around a bit and

possibly contact Zeke, if he proved to be alive. Being burdened with a prisoner rather annoyed them. They

wouldn't have handled one if they hadn't been working for Zeke and doing nothing except on his sayso.

Nor would they have handled this prisoner, had they known, or even guessed at, his identity. That is, they

For years, Lippy and Mech, like all men of their ilk, had held the impossible hope of finding The Shadow

under circumstances resembling these. This pair would have weighted their prisoner with all the slugs in their

Zeke Hemble, of course, had known that The Shadow was about, but he hadn't lived to pass the news on to

his pals. The only other persons who had really seen The Shadow were Gail Trent and Clive Walden.

She had gone upstairs to reclaim her slipper from beneath the study desk, and while she probed for it, the

darkness reminded her of that mass of human blackness that had swallowed a masked furtive outside the door

Gail hadn't seen what happened to The Shadow. He had simply disappeared. Odd, the way he had come and

gone, whoever he was; but the question that perplexed Gail most was why Clive hadn't appeared upon the

scene. She wondered if he had run into previous trouble with the blackcloaked fighter from outdoors.

Then the horrendous thought gripped her that Clive could have been the masked man. Certainly, Clive had

been in the house earlier, and must have used the old stairway to reach the second floor.

If so, Clive was actually a lawbreaker. The fact that the masked man had fled by the old stairway indicated

It could mean that Clive had sought to decoy her to the summerhouse just so that she would be out of the

way. Not because he really cared for her, but because he feared that she might recognize him despite his

Finding her slipper, Gail took the side passage toward her room, weighing the opinion that so horrified her.

At least, she still cared somewhat for Clive. The fact was proven by the way her mind groped frantically for

some better theory that would be in his favor. At last, Gail found one. She decided that Clive could have still

been waiting at the summerhouse, too far away to hear the shots within the mansion.

In that case, he might have known nothing until excitement began outdoors and lights showed everywhere.

Still regarding himself a fugitive, Clive might very well have made a rapid departure before the searchers

came his way. Gail's one regret was that he might suppose that she had summoned the law after finding his

Gail was at the window that opened above the old carriage entrance. She raised the sash and leaned out,

resting her hands carefully against the marble cornice, for it had weakened since the portecochere had been

removed. Peering as far as she could, Gail saw that the bobbing flashlights made a circle much closer than the

If only Clive had managed to keep beyond that cordon! Very probably he had, but Gail found herself

worrying about The Shadow. He had come to her aid, that rescuer in black, and he might still be close at

The lights were very close and moving nearer. They were sweeping toward the door just below Gail's

window. The girl's eyes were suddenly riveted by a stir from the shrubbery which only she was close enough

A figure emerged, and Gail suppressed a cry of alarm. It was a shape cloaked in black, wearing a slouch hat.

FROM her vantage spot, Gail saw how effectively that jethued garb could serve its wearer. The man in

black was simply dropping back each time a beam of light came his way. The shrubbery, even the gray wall,

gave him a background with which his figure blended sufficiently to avoid the observation of the searchers,

He was right beside the steps and reaching for them, when the cornice cut off Gail's sight of him. She leaned

farther forward; feeling the marble wabble, she clutched it and drew her weight back, fearing that she would

Her fright ended, Gail remembered that her own room afforded a view of the carriage entrance.

She hurried to the room and peered from its darkened window. She saw the door, and noticed that someone

was moving a car toward it. Headlights suddenly bathed the door in a much brighter glow than flashlights

Not only the door, but the steps and the shrubbery flanking it were revealed in vivid light. Gail wanted to

shriek from the window, telling the deputies not to fire at the man who crouched there.

Before she could call, she realized that it wasn't necessary. The brilliant light showed blankness. Within the

dozen seconds that Gail had taken to get from one window to another, the cloaked visitor had disappeared.

This was, indeed, a night of vanishing Shadows. In his time, The Shadow had performed some remarkable

fadeouts. But never before had he been observed in two places at the same time. It happened that The Shadow

Yet Gail Trent had seen him outside the mansion door. An odd riddle, this business of two Shadows; one that

THE clock factory occupied a group of oldfashioned brick buildings that dated from the period when Tobias

Browland had taken over the business from his grandfather. The arrangement afforded many places to park a

He gleamed a flashlight into the rear seat, saw that Cranston was still unconscious. Mech nudged Lippy and

Seeing lights in a window, they approached it. Looking through a heavy grating, they saw the interior of the

office, with Elbert Morion stooping in front of a safe. He had finished looking inside of it and was closing it.

Both knew that Elbert must be Clive's cousin, the manager of the clock factory. They saw Corring, too, but

identified him as a guest from the Browland mansion, rather than a lawyer. It further established their idea

that Cranston was just another guest. Probably both Corring and Cranston had been helping the deputies hunt

The sheriff was also on the scene, but the crooks gave him little notice. They were looking for Zeke, and they

still kept watching, hoping he would appear. Meanwhile, a conversation was going on within the office, but

"If Clive opened this safe again," declared Elbert to his companions, "he didn't take anything. That wouldn't

be to his credit, because there is no money here. I've been having it deposited in the bank every night for the

"I don't think Clive did open it, though. Not that he's had a change of heart" Elbert's tone carried marked

contempt "but because I don't think he could have managed it. I changed the combination the day after the

"In that case, Elbert, you can place this in the safe." He drew out the sealed envelope containing Browland's

new will. "I must catch the next train into the city, and I wouldn't care to carry the will with me, considering

Elbert drew his hand away as Corring extended the envelope. A headshake was his answer to the lawyer's

"I'm mentioned in that will," he reminded. "You should know better than to suggest that it be placed in my

keeping, Corring. Why not intrust it to the sheriff? He has a safe in his office."

Learning that the sheriff's office was on the way to the station, Corring decided to follow that plan. He

handed the envelope to the sheriff, who looked at it closely, then placed it in his pocket.

Looking about to learn the time, Corring saw a dozen clocks that told it. He decided that he had better start

Having found nothing resembling a message from Hemble, the three men went their way, Elbert pausing to

lock the office door behind him. Mech dropped down from outside the window, but Lippy clutched him and

"Maybe you ought to try that coffin," suggested Lippy, referring to the safe. "If Zeke got his, we ought to get

"I asked Zeke about the box," returned Mech. "He said it wasn't worth souping. It's a John O'Brien."

In the parlance of safecrackers, a "John O'Brien" signified an empty. Zeke had learned that Elbert wasn't

keeping cash in the office safe. Informed on the point by Mech, Lippy dropped from his perch and started

Mech wanted his companion to come around the corner of the building. Lippy obliged, only to have Mech

The three men from the office were getting into their car, and their conversation was heard by the two

mobbies. It included mention of Zeke: regrets that the watchman was dead, though the sheriff began to gruff

Elbert changed the subject by saying that he'd call some of the factory hands, from the sheriff's office, and

Corring suggested that they go to the station first and that Elbert make the call from there. Corring was

ANXIETY had faded from the minds of Lippy and Mech as they retraced their way to the car. No need of

further concern regarding Zeke, for they had learned that he was dead. The crooks weren't going to get their

The matter of their prisoner bothered them. Starting the car after the sheriff and the others left, Mech told

Lippy to "take a gander at the stiff in back," which Lippy did, and then announced that the prisoner was still

"Good enough," decided Mech, as he swung the car into a highway. "He won't know what hit him. Not that I

To Lippy, the "easy way" meant using a gun. He pulled his revolver and pointed it at the slumped figure in

At that moment, The Shadow's life hung by something thinner than a thread: namely, the hair trigger of

Fate couldn't have played an odder trick than making Mech Woodum save The Shadow's life; but that was

exactly what happened, at least for the time being. Mech pushed out his hand and drew Lippy's gun from its

"Lay off," growled Mech. "A blast from that beater will wake every joskin in the county! With all the dough

Lippy reversed the gun in his hand and leaned over the back of the front seat, intending to bash Cranston's

head with the revolver butt. Mech hauled Lippy's arm down before it could swing.

"Hold it," said Mech. "Just keep one mitt on the door handle, and be ready to shove the guy when I give the

word. Remember that place where the creek cuts deep alongside the highway? That's where we'll dump the

With about five minutes to go, Lippy subsided in the front seat and opened the window beside him. Mech

was driving rapidly, and the cool night air whipped into the sedan. Lippy didn't particularly appreciate the

It came, under the glare of the headlights, a perfect locale for crime. The roadway was high above the creek,

and the incline, fifty feet or more, was both steep and rocky. There was a guard rail for a curved stretch, but it

ended where the road straightened. There, only a small, narrow embankment, much like a high curb, served

Dumping a person over that mound was a matter of timing, only. Lippy swung around, took the door handle

with one hand, and laid the other hand on the shoulder of the swaying figure in the back seat.

TWO hands shot to their task, and completed it. But they weren't Lippy's hands. Instead, they were the hands

Like iron vises, those fists that were actually The Shadow's took the crook in a grip as unsparing as the one

The Shadow had used on Zeke. The uncloaked fighter clamped the wrist above the door handle, and at the

When the crook tried to claw with his free hand, The Shadow was quicker, with a lifted elbow. Bringing the

Mech wasn't watching Lippy's progress. Instead, he was jockeying the car, jerking it out toward the

embankment to aid Lippy's disposal of the prisoner. As Mech veered inward again, The Shadow and Lippy

were thrown toward the door, and their weight did the thing that Lippy's strength couldn't manage.

Lippy's hand jabbed the door handle and released it. The door flapped wide, and Mech heard it. Right then,

he realized that Lippy was having trouble, for the fellow didn't roll back into the front seat as he should have.

Seeing what was happening, he yanked a gun and tried to slash across the seat back at Cranston's head. A deft

twist on Cranston's part and Lippy's skull intervened. Then Mech realized that if he used bullets to send

Cranston rolling through the door, the prisoner still might retain a grip on Lippy, taking Mech's pal with him.

At that moment, other headlights caught the sedan in their glare. They were coming fast around a bend ahead,

Mech swerved for the embankment again. He didn't care what happened to the other car, but he didn't want a

The swerve was too much. The road was slightly downgrade and a new curve was starting. Furthermore,

Mech had his mind on another clash with his gun, and began one as he handled the wheel with his other hand.

The Shadow's fist left Lippy's partially choked throat and grabbed for Mech's descending arm. Needing a

A twist, indeed. It did more than take the gun. It took the car right off the road. Wheels hit the embankment,

The approaching car was hitting the inside of the road, where the ground went upward to the hill brow;

bouncing about, its headlights gave its driver a full view of what happened to the sedan.

As though an invisible collision had occurred, the sedan toppled in the other direction, took a long roll into

It was like The Shadow's roll across the big rock, only on a vaster scale. Crashes of small trees, the clatter of

One figure was flung from it as the car hurdled the brink. The long lurch carried the vehicle beyond the flying

form. Hitting the sharp slope, the car bounded rather than rolled. It was like a creature hobbling on one stilt,

for the edge of the flapping door hit the rocks first and made the bounds eccentric.

A few such crashes and the door was ripped away; then, with smashes that echoed loudly from the gorge, the

sedan transformed itself into junk metal, so emphatically that no one still within it could have possibly

Springing from the car that had halted on the road, a horrified girl dashed over to the low embankment

toward which the headlights were pointed. The glare showed Margo Lane. She hadn't witnessed the struggle

in the other car, and didn't connect The Shadow with it, until a singular event brought her stockstill and

Something like a mammoth beetle was crawling up from the rocks just below the embankment. It became a

For a moment, Margo thought that the figure's black attire was a cloak; then, as the man came slowly to his

feet, she recognized it as a torn evening jacket. She also recognized Cranston's bruised and bloodstained face

MARGO was grabbing Cranston's arm, and it was doubly fortunate that she did. First, because he was

swaying back across the embankment until she halted him. Again, because a gun began to stab upward from

Evidently another man had been flung from the bounding car, with a luckier landing than Cranston's.

The first shots were wide, proving that the marksman was a bit dazed, too. But had Cranston slumped to the

embankment, he would have become an easy prey, for clattering stones told that the other man was climbing

Margo didn't wait for him. Tugging Cranston to his feet, she piloted his stumbling steps to her coupe and

thrust him in beside the driver's seat. Slamming the door, Margo hurried to the other side and took the wheel.

Shoving the car in gear, Margo wheeled precariously close to the ravine edge as she straightened her course

toward Riverdale. Then the car was whining in second gear, its speedometer creeping close to forty as it

Margo fancied that she heard shots from far back the road, but they couldn't count. She was out of range, and

It was well that Margo had been delayed in getting off from New York. She couldn't have chosen a better

time to come along this road. Her efforts had certified The Shadow's selfrescue, and she was carrying her

Behind lay tragedy. Of two crooks in the shattered car, one had perished, leaving the other to seek vengeance

upon a man whose name he didn't know. Probably, the survivor would recognize Cranston if he saw him

Only The Shadow himself could have answered that question, and in his present state, The Shadow neither

MARGO was really worried when she pulled her car in through the gates of the Browland estate. Cranston

hadn't spoken a word all during the ride; he was leaning back, his eyes closed, his face very white, despite its

Of course, Margo didn't know that The Shadow's plunge in the car was his second ordeal of the evening; that

he had recuperated from the first one only because of the strong, refreshing breeze through a car window that

She began to learn soon after she wheeled into the long driveway. Swinging flashlights signaled for her to

stop the car; as she did, men with badges came up to the window. The deputies were polite when they saw

"His name is Lamont Cranston," returned Margo, very coolly. "He is a friend of mine and was bringing me

here from New York, when another car nearly drove us off the road. We nearly tipped over, and Mr. Cranston

So far, Margo was drawing neatly on her imagination to properly patch the facts. Then, in a worried tone, she

"I'm afraid the driver of the other car was drunk; otherwise, he would have stayed on the road. He went over

the edge of a ravine. I called to him and he didn't answer, so I hurried here with Lamont."

Mention of the ravine produced a marked effect. Deputies sprang into their cars and sped for the scene of the

wreck. They had finished their fruitless hunt for a masked man who had disappeared near the Browland

mansion; hence, they were free to go. Others jumped on the running board of Margo's coupe and guided her

They were pulling in by the side entrance, when another car overtook them. It brought Elbert Morion and

Sheriff Quincy. As they stepped out, Elbert began to inquire anxiously if all were well within the house,

The house door opened and Ambrose appeared. He answered Elbert's question, stating that all had been quiet

since the masked man's flight. The deputies were telling the sheriff that the hunt was finished. Whoever they

"He must have gone into the house," began the sheriff. "We must resume the search there."

The deputies argued that they had kept lights fixed on the house. Ambrose, when questioned, testified that he

Then Margo was doing all the talking, quite indignantly. Introducing herself to Elbert, she pointed to

"He may be badly hurt," asserted Margo. "Can't this wrangling wait until you've taken him into the house and

Elbert detailed the servants to help Cranston inside. He stirred as they eased him from the car. Wavering from

Noting it, Margo began to talk to the sheriff, telling him the same yarn that she had given the deputies. By the

time they reached the door, Margo glanced at Cranston again, saw the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.

The smile was his approval of Margo's story; his thanks for informing him of it. The Shadow would support

WITHIN the mansion, Gail Trent, looking from her window, could see the approaching procession.

Recognizing Margo, Gail hurriedly smoothed the negligee that she had just put on and started from her room.

As she neared the main stairway, she saw Tobias Browland at the top. He had just come up from the library,

and was going to his study. Apparently he hadn't noticed the arrivals outdoors. He was turning the other way,

She was on the stairs, about to call down to Margo, when her own surprise halted her. Gail hadn't noticed

Cranston's condition when she saw him from the window. In the light of the hallway, she observed his

Realizing that he must be one of Margo's friends, Gail turned about, intending to hurry to the guest room and

The old man had gone past his study; for a moment, Gail wondered why. Then she remembered the door to

the unused stairway. It was still open, as pursuers had left it when they chased the masked man from the

That door was an obsession with Tobias Browland. He had installed it just so the forgotten stairway would

remain unused. Those stairs were a jinx, in his estimate. As a child, he'd witnessed the last of the three fatal

He'd sworn that if he ever owned the house, he would block off the fatal stairway; and he had. Lately, he'd

talked of nailing the top door shut, instead of leaving it merely locked, but hadn't quite gotten around to the

task. At present, Browland was at least closing the door, as he always did when he found it open.

Gail saw him take the first downward step necessary to reach the door, which was open on its inward hinges.

It wasn't from the old stairs; it came from the hallway beyond them. Blackness that Gail immediately

Having seen her rescuer enter the house, Gail wasn't surprised that he was in the upstairs hall. The thing that

startled her was the quick lunge that the cloaked intruder made for the old stairway, where Browland had

stepped down. There was a clatter from the narrow stairs as the cloaked man thrust into the darkened

She thought that the man in black was grabbing Browland, only to change the opinion, an instant later, when

the piercing call was drowned by an added clatter, which, in turn, took on a dwindling sound.

Gail saw The Shadow draw back from the stairs, staring down, and she could picture what had happened as

Browland had given the cry; he was causing the clatter. Like three of his lamented ancestors, the old man was

taking the long plunge down the precipitous steps to the stone passage at the bottom. Like a dive from a

Blackness swirled again before Gail's eyes. It wasn't the motion of the figure that she thought was The

Shadow. The man in black was still fixed in the doorway, fascinated by the tragedy that he was witnessing:

Gail's vision was blotted by her own horror; with it came the terrible conviction that she had mistaken a foe

for a friend. That thrust of blackrobed arms that she had first thought was a grab at Browland now had all

How simply a lunge could turn into a shove! Delivered against Browland's back while the old man was off

balance, the merest push was enough to start him on his way to doom. That was why the man in black had

He'd come here to murder Tobias Browland, and to Gail, the masquerader, so familiar with Browland's

GAIL was stumbling down the front stairway, calling, beckoning, pointing, all at one time. She didn't have to

tell people that something had happened on the old stairs. They had heard it more plainly than she, for

Browland's fall had ended in a very heavy crash in the passage below the narrow steps.

With it came a sharp sound, like a pistol crack, that carried even to Gail's hearing and chilled her, though she

Never before had Gail heard the peculiar impact of a skull meeting stone with all the force that a headlong

Others who heard it were already on their way to the passage. Elbert Morion and Sheriff Quincy were

dashing sidebyside. The sheriff was pulling a gun, so Elbert gave him precedence.

Ambrose and Jasper couldn't follow immediately, because they were burdened with Cranston. Ambrose drew

Margo over to take the burden on his side, and Jasper promptly shifted Cranston's weight to the girl.

Margo managed to reel her wearied friend into a chair, while the servants were grabbing up their former

In the old stone passage, the sheriff was stumbling over Browland's body. Though the light from the lower

hall was vague, Quincy saw enough to know that Browland was dead. Browland's skull reminded the sheriff

of an egg in a dropped crate. With a sickened grunt, Quincy shifted back against Elbert.

The sheriff saw only blackness; his eyes were troubling him at the moment. Weakly, he handed his gun to

Elbert, but the blackness was gone when the latter fired toward the stair top, across the sheriff's stooped

Claiming that the man was gone, Elbert shoved forward, but Quincy blocked his way. The sheriff strode over

Browland's body and tripped on the old man's cane, which had fallen down the stairs with him and was lying,

Grabbing the cane as a weapon, the sheriff hurried up the narrow steps, Elbert following with the gun. At the

top, they saw Ambrose and Jasper coming from the front stairway with their improvised weapons.

The servants had finally understood Gail, and were passing along the word about "someone in black" who

had hurled Browland to his death. It fitted with Elbert's claim of a figure at the stair top one at which he had

From there, the search spread. Pouring into the mansion because they heard the gunfire, the sheriff's men

were told to join the servants in the hunt and at the same time make sure that no one slipped from the house.

Elbert came downstairs, to join Gail and Margo in the lower hall. Cranston, his eyes apparently closed again,

Sadly, Elbert announced that his uncle was dead; that tragedy of yore had again gathered a Browland into its

fold. But this time, death had been no accident in Elbert's opinion. He blamed it all on the man in black,

Gail herself had gone completely silent. When called upon to repeat her testimony, she simply declared that

she had seen a cloaked man in the upper hallway turned toward the old stairs at the very time she heard

Such a statement was sufficient for the sheriff and the deputies when they completed their search.

Like Elbert, they agreed that Browland's death was murder, committed by a marauder cloaked in black who

might be the masked man that they hunted earlier. They didn't realize that their description of a wanted killer

fitted a personage known as The Shadow, who was famous as a foe to crime, not as a perpetrator of evil.

Two persons realized it. One was The Shadow himself present in the guise of Lamont Cranston; the other, his

friend Margo Lane. Their eyes met in one of the moments when Cranston opened his, and their exchange of

Whatever blemish might attach to the reputation of The Shadow, it was a certainty that the real owner of that

title could never be held to account for the death of Tobias Browland. In reality, The Shadow and Lamont

Not only had Cranston been in the lower hall when Browland took the fatal tumble; but, of all the persons

below, he was the last who could possibly have had a hand in Browland's death. At the time the tragedy

The Shadow seldom dealt in alibis. At present, however, he had a perfect one. The very men who hunted for

The Shadow would be the ones to testify that Lamont Cranston, in reality The Shadow, was not the cloaked

HIS head heavily bandaged, and one arm hanging in a sling, Lamont Cranston was drowsing in an easychair

in the corner of the Browland library. It was dusk, and the glare of the reading lamp bothered his eyes, so he

Cranston's condition had been classed as rather serious the night before. His own physician had been

summoned from New York, and had declared that it would be unwise to move him from the mansion.

Suffering from what might prove to be a serious brain concussion, Cranston had occupied the guest room

Today, his condition had considerably improved, and a phone call to Dr. Sayre, the physician, brought

results. Sayre had decided that the patient could sit up, after listening to Cranston's own report of how he felt.

Sayre privately guessed that Cranston had faked things one way, then the other. Cranston had a habit of doing

What Sayre didn't know was the real reason for the patient's improvement. Of course, Cranston couldn't state

it to the physician over the telephone while other persons were about. It was Sheriff Quincy who produced

This morning, the local lawenforcement officer announced that no one was to leave the mansion until

further notice. Should the mystery man of last night still prove to be around, the sheriff wanted witnesses on

hand to identify him. If it happened that he was gone, there might be a chance of luring him back, should all

Obviously, Quincy had been talking to Elbert, and Clive's name had come up again. Very probably, Elbert

As an occupant of the house at the time of Browland's death, Cranston naturally came under the same edict,

as did Margo. Having no further reason to force his presence on the place, The Shadow had therefore decided

Still, it wasn't wise to overdo it. He wanted to balance things right in between. A position which would allow

him to relapse, or completely recover, as occasion might demand, was something very ideal.

In fact, Lamont Cranston was looming as the key figure who could solve this case of crime. Odd that he

should be operating as Cranston, and not as The Shadow. Even odder that, as Cranston, he was almost

There were times, however, when The Shadow preferred oddities, and this was one. Certainly, crime itself

had so far provided much of the bizarre, and The Shadow could afford to treat it in similar fashion.

Of course, the tired Mr. Cranston knew all that was going on. He learned it, on the installment plan, from

Browland's body had been removed, but some of the crime's exhibits remained up in the study. One was a

bandanna mask; another, a revolver found with it. Hemble's watchman's gun was also there, as was a .45

Cranston smiled when Margo gave him that report. Later, he would have to take a look for the loaded gun

Most of these exhibits were in Browland's desk, because only the dead man had the combination to the safe.

However, an expert was coming today to open the safe. Its contents, at least, were listed, and Margo managed

Having something of a flare for antiques, he was able to appraise the special heirlooms that the safe

contained, and recognized that they couldn't possibly bring more than a thousand dollars.

The precise Mr. Cranston added that to other items. He was trying to calculate Browland's total estate in

round figures. He doubted that a forced sale would bring it beyond fifty thousand dollars.

It divided about equally: half for the house, with it fixtures and actual furniture; the other half for the

As for the clock factory, Cranston knew that it was on its last lap. The name "Tobias Browland" had looked

fine on clock faces back in the days when their dials were the size of a harvest moon. It could be seen, and

recognized, on such clocks. But those days were gone, and so was the fame of Browland, the clockmaker.

There was this, however, about Tobias Browland: the man had never speculated; on the contrary, he had been

classed as a miser. This all might be a game involving hidden wealth, enough to bring about a murder.

Therefore, Cranston was keenly interested when Margo brought him data about Browland's new will facts

It seemed that the new will differed from the old only in the point that half of the estate specifically, the

house and the furniture would go to Gail Trent instead of Clive Walden. The status of Elbert Morion was

THESE facts were what Cranston contemplated, as he rested with his eyes half closed. Conceivably, Clive

Walden might have held a grudge against his uncle because the latter was changing the will; but hardly

enough for Clive to masquerade in a borrowed hat and cloak and pitch the old man down the narrow stairs.

If Clive would want to pitch anyone, anywhere, he would probably prefer to take it out on his cousin, Elbert

Morion, on the supposition that Elbert had framed him for the robbery at the factory.

Therein lay another element. Zeke Hemble, the night watchman at the factory, was a crook, though only The

Shadow seemed to have learned it. Quite possibly, Zeke had robbed the safe on his own. He might have

Such would explain Zeke's masked entry, his tipoff to the sheriff, the need for pals to help, his departure,

The question was: had Zeke planned further gain by his venture? The logical answer was yes, and the why of

There was, of course, the rivalry between Clive and Elbert over Gail. By marrying Gail, Clive could regain

his heritage under the new will. In his turn, Elbert could come in for the same share should he become the

Each had about the same to gain, but in neither case was murder necessary. Hastening the death of Tobias

Cranston's reflections were ended by a mouselike scraping behind some curtains in the corner. He turned as

the curtains brushed his shoulder, and smiled, knowing that the mouse was Margo.

She had unlocked the door from the other side and was using it to reach Cranston on the sly. The door opened

Leaving the door slightly ajar, Margo slid from the curtains and began to whisper new facts. The status of

Zeke Hemble was still unchanged. Deputies had found the body of Mech Woodum in the wrecked sedan; he

But there was no trace of Lippy Carther, the crook who had escaped the smash. Nor did the police suppose

That news off her mind, Margo proceeded with something that interested The Shadow more. Elbert had

reached the lawyer, Corring, by longdistance telephone in Chicago. Corring was concluding his business in

the Midwest, and would arrive tomorrow evening. Until then, the new will was to remain right where it was:

Realizing that the will was very important, Quincy was keeping a trusted man on steady duty in his office.

Even though Mech was now identified with the hotcar racket, the sheriff wasn't taking any chances,

"She can't have heard from him, Lamont," insisted Margo, a trifle annoyed. "This is the fifth time you've

brought up the subject. Gail has been so honest with me, that when she says she hasn't heard from Clive, I'm

"Sure of what, Margo?" Cranston interposed. "That she is really in love with Clive?"

"Gail says she's not in love with Clive," began Margo, slowly. "She claims she can't choose between him and

"I'd think, considering the circumstances, she would have made up her mind by this time. She's been seeing

PROPPING himself up in the chair, The Shadow put the case conclusively. Both he and Margo knew that

Clive had been around the night before. As a basis, The Shadow assumed that Gail, in some manner or other,

"Perhaps she did," was Cranston's agreement. "But she knew there was someone else around when I grabbed

"And with Clive a hero in Gail's eyes," The Shadow added, "she could have supposed that I, the rescuer, was

"I left Clive in the shrubbery," continued The Shadow, "but I didn't come back, as I had hoped. My cloak and

hat were handy, and it's obvious that Clive must have used them. Otherwise, he could not have made a secret

"So far, so good," conceded Margo, with another nod. "Clive was the man that Gail saw upstairs wearing the

cloak and hat. She screamed that he shoved Browland down the old stairway. Then Elbert said he'd seen the

The rest began to dawn on Margo, as though she had caught and was sorting out the very thoughts that The

Margo was remembering how Gail, freed from the first wave of excitement, had no longer claimed that the

man in black had helped Browland down the stairs of death. She merely said she'd seen the cloaked intruder

Only one thing could have changed Gail's story. That thing was Elbert's testimony. Gail knew how anxious

he was to pin fault on his cousin, Clive. His tirade against the unknown in black made Gail instinctively think

Unwilling to play into Elbert's hands, Gail would obviously prefer to be in Clive's arms. Margo nodded in

"Either Gail will find Clive," predicted Cranston, "or he will come to her. So keep close check, Margo, and

A soft laugh came from Cranston's lips a strange echo, it seemed, from a time when he had been a different

personage: a being cloaked in black. His answer came in the even tone that was typical of Cranston, though

"You will recognize Walden on sight, Margo," assured Cranston. "He will be someone that you have heard of

often, and have seen on more than one occasion. Clive Walden will be The Shadow!"

CRANSTON'S predictions had a way of coming true; but this time, he had called the turn almost to the dot.

In her room, Gail was plucking a sheet of crumpled paper from the wastebasket: the note that Clive had left

the evening before. She wanted to read it again to learn if there could be a deeper meaning in the simple

message. But she had scarcely begun to open the paper when she heard the creak of footsteps from the

A dresser drawer was half open. Quickly, Gail dropped the wadded paper into it. Turning about, she closed

Gail's eyes were blazing in the mild light of the room. She thought the approaching person was Margo, whose

actions at times today had impressed Gail as a trifle snoopy. Friends though they were, Gail intended to tell

Then the girl's eyes lost their blaze and were open wide. The figure that paused upon the threshold was

cloaked entirely in black. His hat was drawn deep upon his forehead and he kept it tilted forward to avoid the

At that moment, curiously, Gail was thinking of The Shadow as a separate identity. Though Cranston's

theories were quite correct, Gail's mind had drifted more and more to the first time she had seen The Shadow,

She'd given him the benefit on his own merits, in the case of Browland's death, even though she supposed

Gail's happy tone brought a swish from the doorway. With it came the man in black. Sweeping away his

slouch hat, he took the girl in his arms, and she was looking up into Clive's face.

Flooded with emotion, Gail was nearly weeping at the happiness of this reunion. Then, Clive's voice was

"What a fool I was to think you'd mistrust me, Gail! I should have known that you'd meet me at the

"I was going there this evening, Clive," Gail responded. "I had to wait until it was dark enough."

"I was waiting for darkness, too. Fortunately, this house becomes gloomy early. I've been hiding in the attic."

"The attic?" Gail brushed the mist from her eyes. "Why, they searched there, Clive!"

"Not the old part, where you have to crawl down to the lower level. I even had trouble finding it. They didn't

"If I only could have saved him," declared Clive ruefully. "He was just stepping down when I came around

the corner. I was close; I heard him stumble. When I grabbed for him, he was already tumbling, cane and all.

I heard you scream." Clive paused and met Gail's eyes. "You thought I pushed him, didn't you?"

"Of course! It did look bad. Besides, you didn't know that I was the man at the stair top. I had to pick these up

to get into the house. The chap who was wearing them gave me a real tussle out in the shrubbery."

GAIL stared, in real surprise. So Clive hadn't been The Shadow when she first saw him. Though Clive didn't

realize it, Gail had a sudden surge of doubt, for her swing in Clive's favor was based on her recollections of

At least, Clive was honest about the matter, and that was sufficient to curb Gail's new doubts. A bit abashed

"He was killed," Gail replied. "They don't know what he was doing around here." She looked up suddenly.

Clive explained that he'd heard the deputies mention the fellow. He hadn't stayed in the hidden attic all last

night. He had made a trip to the kitchen to obtain supplies, and found that his borrowed garb was a great help

"This Cranston chap," said Clive. "Why did he come along with that friend of yours, Margo Lane?"

"He intended to drive the car back to New York," responded Gail. "They nearly had an accident on the way.

"I heard the deputies say that, too," he declared. "But it strikes me as a bit thin, a man being hurt in the car

"Lamont happens to be a millionaire," informed Gail. "He wouldn't have been in the other car with an

Gail's tone was a bit angry. She didn't like Clive's suspicious manner. It wasn't fair that he should doubt other

people, particularly a man so friendly as Cranston, when Gail was giving Clive himself the benefit of some

"It's all so mixed, Gail," said Clive, at length. "I was just wondering who had this hat and cloak at the start. I

doubled on my tracks; so did Hemble, it seems. Maybe Cranston did the same. I must get to the bottom of all

Gail was drawing away. She turned about again in front of the dresser. Her mistrust was increasing.

Clive's frank manner returned. He drew off the cloak and tossed it across his arm, with the slouch hat.

"I won't need these any more," he declared. "I'll leave them in the study, where the sheriff can find them. I

know I can depend on you to come to the attic and keep me posted on other developments. You see, I trust

"I don't blame you for wondering at times," insisted Clive in an earnest tone. "I've been in a tougher situation

than you realize, because you always get a sugarcoated story from Elbert. He wouldn't have hesitated at

A smile of agreement appeared on Clive's face. It had the cold touch that denoted worry, but Gail construed it

differently. She took Clive's expression to mean that he would like to count Elbert out of matters

"Elbert won't leave himself out," began Clive. "I came here on that account, Gail. I knew the will was being

"Your share is now in my favor," said Gail. "That should suit you, if you really trust me, Clive."

AS Clive turned to leave, Gail followed. She didn't want him to go away hurt back to his lonely hiding place.

Along the hallway she was protesting in low, ardent tones, that she cared for Clive but that she couldn't stand

his grudge against the world, which went so far as to include a very amiable stranger like Cranston.

As they reached the door of the study, Clive paused, and smiled in much more pleasant fashion. He rested his

"I'm going in here to leave this borrowed outfit. I can't wait longer, Gail, because I hear someone coming up

Clive was closing the study door behind him when Gail turned around to see Margo on the stairs. Again, Gail

felt a surge of apology for having felt meanly toward Margo. Certainly, Margo's progress up the stairs had not

"I... I must talk to you, Margo," declared Gail seriously. "It's about well, it's about so many things. I really

Gail was placing her hand on the study door to make sure that it was fully closed. Margo thought that Gail

wanted to hold the conference in that particular room, and therefore stepped forward. Quickly, Gail caught

"Not here!" Gail exclaimed. "In my room, Margo. We mustn't disturb anything in the study. I know the

sheriff wouldn't like it. I... I was just making sure that the door was locked."

Not only Gail's expression but her voice, gave away the fact that something in the study worried her, and

Margo took it that something might mean someone. Gail's tone was rising, as though she wanted it to be

"I'd like to talk to Lamont," Gail added, still loudly, as she and Margo passed the front stairway. "He's such a

good friend of yours, Margo. Perhaps he knows well, perhaps as an outsider, he could answer some

They were out of sight of the study, and Gail promptly reduced her voice. Reaching her room, she sat down;

then started to rise again. She'd forgotten to close the door, and Margo saw to it that Gail didn't.

Very much by chance, it seemed, Margo took a chair that partially blocked the door. Gail hesitated; then

Gail was definitely troubled, and Margo was somewhat irked herself. Gail might just as well have shouted:

"I've seen Clive!" If Margo had gotten upstairs sooner, she might have seen him, too, in The Shadow's

Margo simply hadn't thought that Cranston's prediction would be fulfilled so soon; hence, she had taken her

time coming up. To make amends for it, she was listening to Gail with one ear for outside sounds with the

Having mentioned Cranston, Gail was asking questions about him, wanting to know why Margo hadn't told

her that he was coming too. She wondered if Cranston acted leisurely always, or whether his accident had

She wanted more details about the accident, too. She was getting quite pointed with her remarks, because she

Meanwhile, Margo was hearing sounds creaks from the direction of the study door. They paused; then,

when Margo was about to relax, they began again. Gail didn't hear them; she was too deep in the bedroom.

"Suppose we go down and talk to Lamont, Gail. He can answer these questions better than I can. As for

They were on the way from the bedroom, when Margo heard sounds anew along the hall. Making the turn

ahead of Gail, she was sure that she caught a glimpse of a black cloak near the doorway to the old stairs

Not wanting Gail to guess that she had spied The Shadow's imitator, Clive Walden, Margo paused to warn

"He may be napping," said Margo. "If he is, we shouldn't disturb him. You understand, don't you?"

Gail nodded, meaning that she understood. But she didn't really understand. Secretly, Margo was smiling at

the thought of anyone catching Cranston napping. To do that, they would have to catch The Shadow off

She forgot that Cranston, almost by his own admission, wasn't exactly The Shadow for the present. He had

Assuming, however, that Cranston had equal rights to be called The Shadow while someone else was

prowling in his favorite garb of black, he could at least be caught napping, under given circumstances.

AT that moment, Cranston was entirely off guard. He was resting back in his easychair, and the slight

He remembered that Margo had left the door from the music room open. Cute of her to try to sneak into the

Cranston made a slight shift in his chair, to obtain a view of the curtains from a mirror on the side wall. He

was just reaching the proper angle, when he learned that his visitor wasn't Margo.

A gun muzzle pressed against Cranston's neck. A voice as cold as the steel told him to stay right where he

was. It was the nudge of the gun that gave Cranston's head the final shift that enabled him to see the mirror.

He saw a cloaked figure looming from the curtains; recognized the gun as one of his own automatics.

It was a case of Shadow meeting Shadow and Lamont Cranston, the genuine Shadow, even though he

lacked the proper accouterments, was at the mercy of the impostor who wore the garb of black!

FOR the first time in his long career of battling crime, Lamont Cranston was learning fully why he, when

garbed as The Shadow, could strike terror into the hearts of hardened crooks. In studying the most effective

measures of approach, he had never been able to appreciate the surprise that his sudden arrival produced.

The jab of a gun against his neck wasn't a new experience for The Shadow; seeing himself on the other end of

the automatic was the real novelty. Viewed in a mirror, the sight was totally unreal.

Perhaps he hadn't fully recovered from the slight concussion that his physician had exaggerated to suit his,

The Shadow's, convenience. Whatever the case, The Shadow couldn't shake off the illusion that the figures in

His senses grasped the notion that he was the cloaked person with the gun; that the helpless man in the chair

was someone else. Always, when trapping an evildoer, The Shadow pictured the man's sensation. It seemed

He didn't belong in the chair, yet he was clamped there by invisible bonds that wouldn't let him spring back

It was the sense of touch that forced The Shadow to the realization that he was still Cranston, and helpless.

The back of his neck kept telling him that a gun muzzle was chilling it. His ears caught a harsh undertone,

and it served further to bring him to reality. It wasn't his, The Shadow's voice, that commanded him to raise

Slowly, Cranston's hands came upward, and now, as The Shadow of the past, he was recalling all he had said

He'd expected Clive Walden to make use of the borrowed garb, but this went beyond predictions. There must

be some reason why a man garbed as The Shadow would pick Cranston for a victim. One reason, in

The man who wore the cloak and hat was definitely deep in crime. So deep, that he wanted to dispose of The

Shadow. Not only that, but the masquerader had a clear knowledge of the inside facts.

Possessing the cloak and hat, he knew that The Shadow was at large, and had presumed that he would choose

Having thus divined why he had been chosen as a target by the false Shadow, the helpless Mr. Cranston was

puzzled to find himself still alive. Most men deepdyed in crime would have blasted The Shadow the

moment they held the chance. Therefore, it was plain that the pretender in the cloak must have something

It wouldn't do for Cranston to merely be found dead beside his chair, slain by an unknown assassin. This

killer wanted to place the guilt on someone other than himself. He was waiting for witnesses to view the fatal

At least, it would forever cover up the fact that Lamont Cranston was The Shadow; but that was no comfort

THE sound of footfalls, coming toward the library door, directly from the hall, were tokens of approaching

death. So was the harsh whisper when it came again; the renewed prod of the automatic added emphasis.

Cranston's hands came higher, shakily, as his shoulders bowed forward in response to the quiver of his neck.

Good business, those shakes. The false Shadow noticed them, as the real Shadow could tell, by sidling a

glance toward the mirror. Thinking he had his victim badly worried, the cloaked crook wouldn't be too hasty

with the gun. The false Shadow wasn't worrying about split seconds; the real one was. He felt that he had

She wasn't alone, for footsteps continued even though Margo halted. It was a help, for the masquerading

murderer would prefer two witnesses rather than one. Particularly another witness besides Margo, who knew

Cranston's lips opened. The man behind him saw the motion in the mirror and voiced a low snarl for silence.

Cranston took it to mean that his hands should go higher, and again his neck inched forward. He looked very

funny in the mirror, his head poked forward in ostrich fashion, his trembling hands wiggling behind his ears.

At that moment, Margo stepped into the library. Her gasp riveted her a few paces inside the room. She was

staring, unbelieving, at the scene, more surprised than Cranston and much more horrified.

To her, the false Shadow looked real for the curtains gave him a spectral background. Yet she knew he

Cranston didn't see Margo. He was still considering his own reflection and that of the cloaked imitator behind

him. He was listening, too, for the footsteps that would denote the arrival of the second, and really important,

Those footsteps came, and with them, a horrified tone of accusation in Gail's voice.

Gail's expression of the masquerader's identity was the equivalent of a trigger tug. Though she didn't realize

it, she might as well have used her own finger to deliver the shot that was meant to rid the world of The

There was only the fraction of a second between Gail's outcry and the shot that came. But there was one

Quicker than the other man's trigger finger, Cranston's left hand made a rightward thrust. It was a perfect jab,

for the hand was behind his head, thanks to the gradual cringe that Cranston had introduced. The gun blasted

with a roar that nearly made Cranston's head burst, but the effect of the shot was on his eardrum only.

The automatic was no longer at Cranston's neck when it spurted. Flame from the muzzle merely scorched his

jaw. The bullet didn't come that close. Wide by the fraction of an inch, the slug found its lodging place in a

The false Shadow twisted to try another shot. He learned then why Cranston had keeled him to the right. He

couldn't take aim by a mere swing of the gun; he had to twirl his body half about.

Cranston was moving faster, no longer a pitiful invalid. His bandaged left arm, which he had raised from his

Crossing his right forearm, Cranston's left hand took another hold on his cloaked attacker. Margo and Gail

saw a blackish mass come whirling through the air. The flying figure toppled the chair and both landed on the

floor. The gun went scaling from the hand that poked from the tangled sleeve of the borrowed cloak.

Rolling on his back, the man in black made a blind thrust as Cranston sprang his way. Gail couldn't see

Clive's face, for the slouch hat had come clear down to the masquerader's chin. But the kick that the sprawled

man gave was luckier even than he hoped. His feet struck the chair, shot it forward just as Cranston lunged.

This time, it was Cranston who hurdled forcibly, to land shoulderfirst upon the floor. His antagonist was

rolling toward the curtains; coming to his knees, he grabbed them and hauled himself through.

As he dived from sight, he yanked at his hat with one hand and plucked the cloak with the other. Showing the

CRANSTON was coming to his feet, scooping up the automatic on the way. He drove for the curtains, with

Margo close behind him. Grabbing the knob of the door, Cranston tried to shove the barrier open. It didn't

From the doorway to the hall, Gail was calling for the servants, and both were responding. Ambrose was

coming from the kitchen; Jasper down the front stairway. They heard a man dashing across the hallway and

Meanwhile, Cranston was reversing his course, with Margo still following. They were making for the

Gail sprang aside to let Cranston pass. It took him a moment to avoid her, and during it, he could hear shouts

and scuffles from the hallway. Then, springing into sight, Cranston saw two men reeling, each in a different

One was Ambrose; he was clawing at a black cloak that had been wrapped about his head and shoulders. The

Even The Shadow couldn't have turned that double trick more neatly than his imitator had. Getting the

garments clear, Ambrose and Jasper were half bewildered, not knowing which way to turn. Nor did The

One man, alone, was able to guide the chase. He was coming in from the vestibule.

The arrival was Elbert Morion. He had driven into the driveway a short while before. He didn't bother to find

out what had happened; he could see all he needed. Wildly, Elbert gestured toward the passage to the old

"There he goes, you fools!" Elbert howled at the servants. "Go after him, but look out! He has a gun! I heard

Ambrose and Jasper sped for the old stairs, casting cloak and hat aside as they went. Elbert turned to follow

them, then paused as he heard the side door slap open, to admit a pair of deputies. Before he could tell them

"It was Clive," she said firmly, "and I can tell you where he went. He is hiding in the attic, in the old part.

"I'll find it," promised Elbert, as he beckoned to the deputies. Then, turning, he saw Cranston, holding the

automatic. "Ah, Cranston!" Elbert added. "You have a gun. Are you coming with us?"

For answer, Cranston extended the automatic to Elbert, almost letting it fall as the other man took it. Then,

Margo explained that he was having another of his dizzy spells; that he had overexerted himself in fighting

Slumped in a chair, with Margo standing by to see that he didn't topple, Cranston watched Gail pick up the

By that, she meant that they had seen the finish of The Shadow, for Gail considered that personality to be

nothing more than a false identity that Clive Walden had assumed for purposes of crime.

Cranston reached weakly for the cloak and hat, and Gail handed them to him, as souvenirs.

Margo agreed that it was the finish of the masquerade, but not with the rest of it. She knew what Cranston's

VERY shortly, Cranston's dizzy spell was over. He arose from his chair, pressed his hand to his head, and

decided that some fresh air would do him good. He was still carrying the hat and cloak when Margo and Gail

When the door was opened, Cranston leaned against the doorway and took long breaths.

Sounds of heavy pounding could be heard from somewhere in the house. Evidently, Clive's pursuers had run

It was difficult to tell whether Gail hoped that Clive would be captured, or whether she was longing for his

"We can go upstairs," said Margo. "Lamont is quite all right. I suppose we ought to learn what's happening,

Lamont proved that he was quite all right as soon as the two girls left. Stepping out to the driveway, he

In their hurry, the deputies had left it as it was. Easing the car into gear, The Shadow headed it toward the

elms. When he reached the slope, he cut the motor off and coasted it down the old driveway, using only the

The trouble upstairs lay with the attic door. Usually, the attic wasn't locked, though the key always hung

beside the door. Browland had used it as a strongroom at times when the mansion was empty; at other

intervals, the attic was always open. At present, the attic was locked and the key was gone.

This backed Gail's statement that Clive had gone to the attic. Very probably, he had closed the door and

locked it from the other side. The lock, of course, was strong, and so was the door. Ordinary pounding was

bringing no result. Elbert sent the servants downstairs to see what they could find in the way of

Outside, more cars were coming up. A deputy had called the sheriff, telling him that the Browland mansion

had again become a madhouse. Entering, the sheriff found the servants gathering the implements that Elbert

Ambrose was carrying a hatchet and an ironing board. Jasper had a big log, and intended to bring an andiron

Learning that Clive Walden was trapped in the attic, Sheriff Quincy gave a pleased grunt, then turned to men

"Stay outside," Quincy told them, "in case he makes a run for it. He's a killer, this fellow. We may have to

Reaching the attic, the sheriff suggested that the door be settled by the simple process of blasting the lock

with gunshots. The others stood back, while Quincy demonstrated just how it was done. He used most of the

shots in his revolver, so he stopped to reload. Then, thrusting the door open, the sheriff bawled:

Outside the doorway, Gail gave a nervous gasp. Margo steadied her, whispering that Clive would certainly

Elbert suggested searching the hidden section of the attic. They found it, with an old trunk wedged tightly

Men worked in gingerly fashion to remove the trunk, while the sheriff kept telling Clive that resistance would

The sheriff's idea of ten was fifty. He'd repeated that warning five times. Finding it didn't work; Quincy

crawled into the hidden room. Flashlights threw a glare ahead of him; guns bristled in the glow, ready to open

CRAWLING out, after a thorough search of the lowroofed cranny, the sheriff was half sheepish, half angry.

He wanted to know who had seen Clive come to the attic. Gail stepped forward. Again, her loyalty to Clive

Gail admitted that she'd talked to Clive; that he had mentioned the attic as his hiding place. She added that he

had been wearing the hat and cloak, but had stated that he was leaving them in the study. But she was no

"Clive would have certainly come here," insisted Gail. "So maybe it wasn't Clive. Maybe" she stared,

horrified "maybe someone attacked Clive first, and took the hat and cloak away from him!"

The sheriff scoffed at such a theory. He turned to the two servants and demanded to know what the man in

"He looked like Mr. Walden," declared Ambrose. "As near as I could tell, sheriff."

"I'd say the same," added Jasper. "I only had a glimpse of him, while he was shoving the hat down on my

The sheriff began peering into trunks, some too small to contain anyone larger than a midget. At last, he came

to an attic window. It was circular in shape and swung on a pivot in the center.

There was just about enough space for a man to squeeze through; but outside, the wall was sheer. Noting a

similar window at the other end of the attic, the sheriff went there. This time, he made a find.

The window opened just above an el, which was a little lower than the one that held the hidden extension of

the attic. It was an easy drop to the el roof; the question was, how far a man could travel after reaching it.

The sheriff was calling for a volunteer, when he heard a shout from below. Deputies had spotted Quincy at

"Spread out!" bawled Quincy. "We're sending a man down. Watch where he goes, and look around there."

The choice of a volunteer was easy. Elbert undertook the task. He said that he knew the house as well as

Clive, and probably better. He was irked because he had forgotten about the old hiding place in the attic. He'd

Not wanting to be burdened, he handed The Shadow's automatic to Margo, and told the sheriff to keep the

Elbert squirmed through the lower half of the circular window, found the el roof with his feet, and slid down

to it. With the flashlights playing their beams, he soon picked an easy course toward the ground.

It was just a case of moving from roof to roof. Off an edge of the el, Elbert saw a bay window projecting

from the second floor. Dropping to its top, he crossed it and saw the top of a porch, and lowered himself to it.

Walking along, he went from sight; then returned. On the ground, deputies spread out farther with every

"He might have used the cornice over the old carriage entrance," Elbert called up to Quincy. "Still, it's pretty

wabbly. By the way, Gail, you ought to have it cemented. The house is yours, now, you know."

"Never mind whose house it is," shouted the sheriff. "Tell us where else Walden might have gone."

"It's an easy drop from the other end of the porch roof," Elbert informed. "Over toward the elms."

The sheriff saw lights beyond the clustered trees and called for men to pass the word along to watch that

direction. Then, telling Elbert to stay right where he was, Quincy ordered the rest downstairs. Going with

them, he announced that they would all join the cordon and close in toward the house, with the exception of

The girls were to stay inside the door, keeping it closed. Noting that Margo had a gun, the sheriff told her to

IT had taken a long time for the hunt to reach this final stage. Margo remembered abrupt quarterhour

chimes from the grandfather's clock at the time she and Gail had gone upstairs. At present, the same clock

From the sheriff's standpoint, the time had been well spent, for everything had been done quite thoroughly.

Reaching the most distant outpost, Quincy ordered the men to close in. The cordon neared the elms and

stopped. Flashlights focused on a man who was leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette.

Raising his hand, Clive gave a welcoming wave. The sheriff approached him with a leveled gun, while others

steadied their weapons in the same direction. Clive laughed, pleasantly and lightly.

"Coming in from the gates. I stopped here to watch Cousin Elbert doing exercises on the roof. I heard

somebody yell about moving in toward the trees, so I decided they would be a good place to wait."

"It's no use, Walden," he said. "We know you were prowling around the house wearing a black hat and cloak.

Clive didn't answer. It wasn't necessary. The real owner of the mysterious garb suddenly announced himself.

His proclamation was a mocking laugh that quivered from outside the ring of flashlights.

Men wheeled as one, to probe the darkness. Only the fact that their lights were many enabled them to spot

He was springing from a car on the main driveway, a car that deputies recognized as their own. Again, his

strange taunt sounded, waking echoes from the gray walls toward which he darted. Men began to shoot their

The Shadow's shots were as mirthful as his laugh. He was firing them so high that they whistled well up in

the branches of the elms. He wasn't trying to hit anyone with the bullets from the gun that he had found on a

brief trip down to the rocky creek. Other marksmen were aiming at The Shadow in earnest, but their fire was

Bullets were simply bashing the wall of the house. The Shadow had reversed his direction and was off

somewhere in the surrounding darkness. So certain were the deputies that he would seek the house as refuge,

They poured forward in a body, to find themselves meeting each other at a place where the wall formed a

windowless abutment. From the distance, it seemed, they heard a trailing laugh. They turned, to sweep the

Within the house, Margo heard a light tap at the side door and believed she recognized it. She pressed

forward, with Gail following. Worried by the shots outdoors, Gail stepped out to peer at the lights. Margo,

still in the doorway, heard the swish of a cloak beside her. Then the gun was gone from Margo's hand.

The hall lights gloomed, ever so slightly, as an entering figure obscured them. With a look over her shoulder,

The sheriff arrived bringing Clive, and Elbert appeared, too, having made a hurried drop from the roof when

the shooting lulled. They entered the house and went to the library, since it was the only room large enough

LAMONT CRANSTON stirred from his easychair, placed his hand to his bandaged head and blinked,

rather dazed, at the crowd that entered. His puzzled attitude was proof to all but Margo and perhaps another

that Cranston couldn't have been anywhere else but here during the recent commotion.

Only Margo, however, was able to understand the mere trace of a smile that Lamont gave her. She knew that

The Shadow was himself again. He had established the fact that he was a distinct individual, who could

return and vanish as he chose. Any others, clumsy in their actions, had been mere masqueraders.

There was something else about The Shadow's brief return and the disappearance that concluded it. The event

was a fair warning from The Shadow; one that all might well heed. It meant that he would reappear again

That time would depend upon further evidence, not yet gathered by The Shadow. Evidence which by its very

nature would explain the real reason for the untimely death of Tobias Browland, former master of this

THE main purpose of the conference was to question Clive Walden regarding his recent actions; but it wasn't

He wanted to know why Clive had been prowling about wearing a black cloak and hat. Clive's answer was a

All of them, with the exception of Cranston, had seen The Shadow crossing the lawn while Clive was under

the muzzles of half a dozen guns. To emphasize that point, Clive put a question to Elbert.

"I'll ask you the same thing," said Clive. "What were you doing, Elbert, when you wore that costume you just

"I was on the porch roof," snapped Elbert. "I couldn't have jumped up there from the middle of the lawn."

"And I didn't drop out of the elms," retorted Clive. "Which counts us both out. Let's shake on it. We haven't

Elbert refused Clive's proffered hand. Looking about, Elbert noted Cranston and appealed to him.

"This chap in black," said Elbert. "He tried to murder you, didn't he, Cranston?"

"I hardly think so," was Cranston's calm reply. "He had a gun right against my neck, but didn't use it. When I

"It might have seemed so at the time," Cranston agreed, "but not considering the reports of what happened

outside, just now. I understand that a dozen men were shooting at this chap, in earnest, while he was merely

Elbert looked at the sheriff, saw him rubbing his chin, much impressed by Cranston's logic. If Cranston

thought that The Shadow had been indulging in mere theatricals, Sheriff Quincy saw no reason to dispute it.

"You can't deny the masquerade, Clive," he declared. "Gail says she saw you wearing that trick outfit."

Clive gave a steady glance toward Gail, who promptly lapsed into her mood of the previous evening.

"I thought I saw Clive," the girl declared. "It was dark, and I might have supposed that he was wearing a

"I know I saw someone in a hat and cloak," parried Gail. "I was thinking of Clive, as I often do, so I could

"We both saw the man in question," declared Margo, "when he was here in the library. But I couldn't see his

"No," replied Cranston, "and I had the best chance of all. You see, I was tossing him about a bit. He wasn't

wrapping my head in his cloak" Cranston's gaze fixed on Ambrose "nor was he pulling that hat of his

down over my eyes." Then, with a look toward Jasper, Cranston added: "It's rather difficult to see through a

Both servants had been anxious to repeat their earlier testimony that the man in black was Clive. Cranston's

Ambrose gave a slight headshake. He wasn't sure that his opinion would be of use. Jasper's silence indicated

"Rather a coincidence," he said to Clive, "that you should come home on this particular evening, at this very

"He still thinks he is," declared Clive. "He's coming here, bringing the will that Uncle Tobias asked him to

IT turned out to be Grath's car. In a few minutes, the attorney entered. He was a stubby man, very brisk of

"Sorry about your uncle," spoke Grath. "Too bad you were away when he met with the accident, Clive. I'm

glad you called me when you arrived in town this afternoon. Well, I've brought the will, as I promised."

Grath was drawing an envelope from his pocket, and of all the silent persons in the room, Gail was the most

astonished. It didn't occur to her that Clive had made the telephone call from Browland's study.

Gail was actually wondering if she had really seen Clive after dusk. She'd heard of strange daydreams that

After all, she had been thinking of Clive for six months, and she recalled times when she had fancied she'd

heard his voice speaking to her. Possibly her mind had jumped a greater gap because of the stress following

Noting Gail's dazed mood, Elbert decided to switch the subject back to other matters. He turned to Grath.

"That will is canceled," declared Elbert. "My uncle made a later one, Grath. Corring was the attorney who

Grath looked about, expecting to see Corring, whereupon Elbert informed him that the other attorney was not

yet back from Chicago. Grath remarked testily that he should at least have been informed that Tobias

Browland had intended to change his will, even though the new one had been drawn up by another lawyer.

Going further, Grath said he couldn't understand why he hadn't been called on for the service, instead of

"I'll tell you why you were left out," declared Clive. "Elbert didn't trust you, Grath, because you are a friend

"Your case, Clive, is quite different," snapped Elbert. "You are still wanted for that robbery of six months

Gail started to intercede in Clive's behalf; she faltered. Both Cranston and Margo noted that she was adopting

a neutral attitude. She'd gone far enough in Clive's behalf, retracting the statements that she had seen him clad

in black. It was time that Gail gave Elbert a break, even though he had forgotten his promise to drop all past

The arm of the law, personalized by the sheriff's beefy hand, was clamping down upon Clive. The young man

"With the greatest of pleasure," Grath responded. Then, to Quincy: "Why go to a lot of bother, sheriff? If you

arrest Walden, I'll have him out with a habeas corpus writ before you've locked him in a cell."

"Not so fast, Grath," he declaimed. "There's plenty of evidence against Clive. Fair evidence, too. He knew the

"By whom?" put in Grath quickly. "My client admits nothing. The burden of proof is upon you" Grath's

Grath was not only familiar with matters of six months ago; he had heard of Hemble's recent death. The

former watchman was the only witness who could have sworn that Clive visited the factory the night the safe

was robbed. In intimating that fact, Grath just about ended the case against Clive, so far as robbery was

For a moment, Elbert was quite taken aback. He looked at the sheriff, who shrugged helplessly. Then Elbert

CRANSTON saw that Clive caught an added meaning to Elbert's look. In his turn, Clive glanced sourly at

Whatever doubts it raised on the robbery matter were counterbalanced by the fact that Clive might have

coaxed Hemble to his death, for the very purpose of eliminating the only witness in the case.

Grath, the smart lawyer, didn't even catch Clive's glance. Grath was handing his envelope to Quincy.

"Keep it, sheriff," suggested the lawyer. "You have the new will, so you might as well hold the old one, too.

You can produce them both, tomorrow, when Corring arrives. I shall be here, of course."

"You're welcome to stay overnight," spoke Elbert, in his most pleasant tone. "In fact, Grath, I insist that you

stay. Sheriff Quincy has placed this house under sort of a quarantine. All persons who enter are supposed to

Grath rubbed his hands and nodded, as though the prospect pleased him. He stopped suddenly, when he

realized that his situation applied equally to Clive. Throwing a worried look at his client, Grath was met with

"I'll stay," Clive decided. "That is" he eyed Elbert "if you think the house is safe while I'm inside it."

"The sheriff can station a man in the study," retorted Elbert coolly. "That's where you'd be most likely to

Clive doubled his fists and made a forward gesture. Hoping that he could tag an assault charge on his cousin,

"We haven't been able to open the old safe yet," he remarked. "The expert hasn't arrived. Perhaps you would

like to pinch hit for him, Clive. Or do you always need to know the combination when you open a safe?"

The bait was too fancy. Clive became a wise fish and didn't take it. Elbert dropped his foxy tactics and

became the perfect host, telling his new guests that the servants would show them to their respective rooms.

At least, Elbert had won his point of keeping Clive in custody, although his cousin would be a tenant of the

When everyone else had gone, Margo looked at Cranston, who was still reclining in his easychair. He arose

and removed the cushion; from beneath it, he produced a folded black cloak and a flattened slouch hat,

"You'd better be careful, Lamont," whispered Margo. "Someone might see you taking those things upstairs."

Margo went out into the hall, then turned to call back softly that no one was about. When Lamont didn't

appear, Margo frowned and came back into the library. She stared about, much puzzled.

Cranston was no longer in his chair; in fact, he wasn't even in the room. It was Margo who received the next

It came from somewhere on the main staircase a low, whispered laugh, carrying to Margo's ears. The girl

suddenly realized how foolish it had been to warn Cranston that he might be seen while carrying the cloak

Even Margo hadn't seen Lamont when he passed her in the hallway. Her mysterious friend had again become

THINGS were tense within the Browland mansion when evening again arrived. Dinner was over and this

evening Cranston, much recuperated, had dined with the rest. They formed a group about the dining room

There was a sixth chair, vacant. It belonged to Grath, but he had left. The sheriff had called to take Grath to

The feud between Clive and Elbert was buried, a fact which only made the scene more tense. Neither man

would have shown courtesy to the other if each hadn't felt that he was due for some sort of triumph at the

Of course, the whole thing hinged on the return of Grath and Corring. Each lawyer would be bringing a

sealed envelope, and both envelopes would be opened. The merits of the old will would be matched against

As Grath had mentioned during dinner, wills were delicate legal instruments, at best. There was always a

In a sense, this scene resembled the time when crime had first struck within the mansion. Ambrose and Jasper

seemed to remember it, as they went their separate ways. Each servant, moving in and out, covered a little

sphere of his own. Any time one infringed upon the other's duty, he backed out suddenly as though rapped on

Last night's mixup in the hallway had much to do with it. Ever since, Ambrose and Jasper had been

intimating that the other was to blame because they hadn't caught The Shadow. He certainly couldn't have

muffled one with the cloak and suppressed the other with the hat at the same instant.

One servant must have been the first to tackle the masquerader, and each claimed the distinction. Which, in

turn, could account for the fact that both had become dubious about insisting that the false Shadow was Clive

To be positive on that score, either Ambrose or Jasper would have to concede that he had taken a longer look

than the other, and such an admission would brand the man who made it as second best.

The point intrigued Cranston. It was typical of servants, to stickle about petty matters.

"If you'd like to go over those inventories, you can," said Elbert. "They are up in uncle's study."

"Quite right," agreed Elbert. "There is still a chance that the old will may hold."

"I don't believe so," responded Clive, with a headshake. "I'd like to check over things on Gail's account, that's

Elbert gave a very understanding nod. Both cousins were going the limit, hoping to gain Gail's preference.

"By the way, Clive," he called, "the safe is open. I left it that way. You might check on the items in it."

"But they're yours, aren't they?" queried Clive. "Under the terms of either will?"

"All the more reason that someone else should check them," answered Elbert. "If there are any doubtful

IT was all so very ducky, that it began to worry Margo. She looked toward Cranston hopefully, but he

maintained his calmmannered silence. There were moments, though, when Margo wondered why she

Unquestionably, Elbert had urged his uncle to make a new will, whereas Clive had hoped that the old one

would stand. The transfer of Clive's legacy to Gail had simply switched the object of the rivalry. The man

There, Margo was stumped. The strange death of Tobias Browland; the part played by Zeke and his pals;

finally, the attempt to take Cranston's life and thus dispose of The Shadow all were points that indicated a

"The key to the liquor closet, sir. Mr. Corring is coming, you know. I believe there is another bottle of his

"And would be, Jasper," Elbert interposed, "if you hadn't abused the privilege when it was yours."

Jasper left in his softfooted style. When Ambrose came in, Elbert beckoned to the stolid servant, then

It was Gail who produced them. Elbert had given her the keys the night of her uncle's death, saying that the

Soon after Ambrose left, Elbert suggested that they go to the library. He wanted to be near at hand when

Corring and Grath arrived. Reaching the hall, Elbert thought he heard a car and hurried to the side door, but it

Ambrose went upstairs with the brandy. The servant was still gone when Elbert hurried to the door again in

"Only a deputy wanting to know when the sheriff would be back. He should certainly have arrived by this

Gail suggested that Corring's train might have been late. Elbert went to the door, opened it, and stepped out.

"No sign of a car," he said. "You can usually hear them half a mile away. Well, I suppose we shall just have

He began to bring down books from their shelves to show them to Cranston and Margo. Most of them were

historical volumes, some mentioning the old Browland mansion, with illustrations of it in the early days.

Hurriedly, Elbert closed the book and thrust it back on its shelf. He started out of the library, and Gail

It might be that the delay had been something more serious than a late train. Therefore, The Shadow was

anxious to witness the arrival of the sheriff and the lawyers, and hear, firsthand, whatever they had to tell.

Both Cranston and Margo were in the hallway before Elbert reached the side door. They saw him stop with

Having returned from his trip up to the study, Ambrose was performing his regular duty of answering the

door. He, too, had heard the car and knew the importance of the coming visitors.

Ambrose was very punctual about answering the door. He had opened it when Cranston and Margo joined

Gail and Elbert. All four were crowding through the vestibule when Ambrose took a few forward paces to the

The car was stopping in the driveway and Elbert gave a call from within the doorway:

The men from the car gave an excited shout, which halted Elbert at the door edge. Simultaneously, there

It was outside the house, and it might have been from the sky, for all that Margo knew. Her thoughts, though,

THEN Margo was being bowled aside, and Gail was swept the other way, by the spreading arms of Cranston.

He was lunging for the doorway, pausing only for another sweep at Elbert, to keep him where he was.

Ambrose was Cranston's objective; the servant had heard both the shouts and the crackle. Recoiling first, then

The servant was throwing up his arms as if to ward off some menace from which his body cringed away; but

Though Cranston was moving with the famed speed of The Shadow, it was impossible for him to save

Ambrose. The man's life depended upon his own action, and his slowmoving brain didn't respond to the

Indeed, it was only by remarkable skill that The Shadow saved his own life at the final instant. The crackle

was a huge clatter when Cranston's figure reached the door. Both Gail and Margo shrieked when they saw a

great thudding curtain of white bash down toward the wouldbe rescuer. One pace more and Cranston would

He stopped himself with a hard, hooking grab at the doorway's edge. Throwing himself into a spin, Cranston

The thing that struck Ambrose didn't bounce. It flattened the stocky servant so suddenly that he seemed to

disappear into the ground. A weight of about half a ton was landing in one lump, striking Ambrose upon the

head and shoulders. The massive object was the marble cornice that belonged above the side door.

Unable to balance himself in the doorway, Cranston reeled outward and down the steps amid a rising cloud of

white dust. Small chunks of stone were dropping, dislodged by the fall of the unmoored cornice. They missed

Cranston, but he sprawled over the marble slab itself and rolled to the driveway.

He was picking himself up when Elbert sprang down the steps. The sheriff and the two lawyers hurried over

They all saw that Cranston was unhurt following his desperate attempt to rescue Ambrose. It was very

In that case, he'd have been with Ambrose when the smash came, and some idea of his probable fate could be

gained by a view of Ambrose. The servant was at the bottom of the steps; he was under the jagged slab of

Ambrose's head was crushed, worse than Browland's had been; one shoulder looked like a pancake. His arms

and legs, all awry, were poking from the edges of the fallen cornice. Death had struck anew at this mansion of

Death so emphatic that it seemed designed by a power greater than any human hand!

MEN were staring up at the window above the side door, their faces very grim. Their minds were conjuring

phantom images of a ghostly form in black. They were remembering how Gail had claimed that she saw such

He had somehow assumed a distinctive personality through his actions last night, when he had led the

deputies a wildgoose chase across the lawn. His gunfire, aimed away from his pursuers; his evasive laugh;

finally, the fact that he had gone away from the mansion itself those had counted in The Shadow's favor.

He was a masquerader, a menace, an imitation of the true Shadow. He was someone who borrowed a cloak

when he wanted to deal in death. He'd been present when Browland died, and he had apparently tried to

murder Cranston. It might chance that he would be around again, gloating over the death of Ambrose.

Hence, eyes were peering hard at the window, the spot where the man might be. Eyes saw blackness, but it

One man, of course, knew that no masquerader would be seen. The man who knew was Cranston. Having

reclaimed his favored garb, he was quite sure that no one else could be using it. Nevertheless, Cranston was

studying the window as keenly as anyone. He hoped to catch a glimpse of someone.

The fall of the cornice could hardly be attributed to chance. It was much more likely that someone at the

Death had come before The Shadow expected it. Odd, too, that it should have fallen upon Ambrose. But it

wasn't odd that the window above proved empty when The Shadow's keen eyes probed it. The man who had

shoved the cornice could easily have slipped away from the window, even before Cranston had made the

Unfortunately, none of the men from the automobile had noticed the window when the cornice fell. The

crackle of the stone was the thing that caught their attention, and their eyes had instinctively followed the

Some of the sheriff's men were arriving from their outposts, attracted by the crowd on the driveway. Quincy

Sidestepping the double obstacle, he entered the door, beckoning for those who belonged in the house to

Margo and Gail stepped back into the vestibule. From behind them Jasper's face was peering, very white.

"The cornice dropped on Ambrose," returned Elbert. "You might have been the victim, Jasper, if you had

"In a way, yes. He was looking outside to see if the car had arrived. We've been expecting it for the last

Elbert paused, abruptly. He happened to remember that he was the person most interested in the car's arrival.

"You'd been to the door three times, Elbert!" the girl exclaimed. "Had you gone out on those steps?"

"Only briefly," Elbert replied slowly. "Just out and in. If I'd seen the car, I would have waited on the steps, of

THE others crowded close at Gail's words. All were in the hallway by this time, and Cranston's keen eyes

were studying the various faces. Both lawyers, Corring and Grath, were asking questions, as though the

Sheriff Quincy was saying something about taking a look at the window on the second floor. Elbert turned to

"I was upstairs," spoke a voice from across the hall. "It was very quiet in the study, until the commotion

began down here. What was it all about? It sounded as if somebody had been murdered."

The voice was Clive's. He was looking about, counting faces, from where he stood at the bottom of the main

stairway. Evidently Clive wasn't including the servants in his tabulation, for he seemed to think that everyone

was all right. Otherwise, his reference to murder would hardly have been good form.

"Someone has been murdered," declared Elbert bluntly. "Ambrose was the victim, but it seems to be the

consensus of opinion that death was meant for me. Ask them what happened. They will tell you, Clive."

There was a slight trace of smooth sarcasm in Elbert's tone, which indicated a renewal of his feud with Clive.

"You'd better let us thrash this out," said Elbert. "Why don't you rest yourself meanwhile, Gail? Margo will

stay with you, and we'll call you when we are ready for the meeting in the study."

Elbert gestured toward the stairway, and Margo threw a look toward Cranston, who nodded. As the girls left,

Cranston turned to join the group and witness Clive's reaction to the details of Ambrose's death. A few

"Too bad about Ambrose," Clive was saying glumly. "If I'd had my way, that cornice would have been

removed long ago. Uncle Tobias thought it made a nice decoration, but I could see no use for it."

One man was moving away from the group, unnoticed even by Cranston. The man was Jasper. His style, as

usual, was softfooted, but his knees were a trifle shaky and his face was still very white. He started first

toward the kitchen; then turned to the main stairs and went up to the second floor.

Margo happened to see him while she and Gail were turning the corner toward the bedroom. Looking back,

He looked numb; his gait was mechanical. Margo decided that Jasper must have realized that he was now the

only servant in the house and that it would be his task to prepare the study for the coming conference.

DOWNSTAIRS, the group had come to an agreement. The sheriff's suggestion was a good one: namely, to

have a look at the window above the cornice. If there was anything queer about the accident that killed

Clive was blandly suggesting that the house be searched, to see if someone had entered and gone into hiding.

Others besides Elbert gave him a doubting stare. It sounded like a clever coverup for Clive's past actions.

"We'll have a look at the window," decided Elbert, "and then proceed with our scheduled business in the

study. By the way" he was looking about as they neared the stairway "where is Jasper? I think we should

The rest were already on the stairs, Cranston among them, when Clive called for Jasper. The fellow didn't

At that moment Cranston looked upward, and saw the study door at an angle from the stairs. The door was

It flashed suddenly to The Shadow that Jasper might have gone there. If so, there wasn't a moment to be lost.

Others wondered at the speed that Cranston suddenly displayed. Despite his present guise, he had the

swiftness of The Shadow as he took the steps by pairs, making for the study door. Though they didn't guess

The study door was thick. If Jasper happened to be beyond it, he might not hear the call. Therefore, Cranston

didn't slacken pace. A dozen feet ahead of the others, he grabbed the study door and pushed it open.

He was right; Jasper was in the study. The thing that The Shadow wanted to ward off, had already happened.

To steady himself after what happened to Ambrose, Jasper had gone for the brandy bottle. He'd lost no time

in swallowing a stiff drink. The bottle was back on the study desk, and Jasper was setting an empty glass

Jasper was drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, to wipe away traces of the brandy that was

trickling down his chin. He wanted to face the arrivals in the manner of a perfect servant.

Jasper's hand didn't complete its sweep. Instead, it stiffened. His eyes bulged suddenly, as if staring right

through Cranston. As his hand sagged under its own weight, Jasper's lips were revealed.

They were parted in a twisted grin that much resembled a hideous leer. His other hand flattened against the

He was tumbling forward as Cranston reached him, and his weight had the inertia of the marble block that

had so recently tumbled upon Ambrose. Cranston couldn't do more than divert the fellow's fall.

The sheriff, springing through the door that Cranston had opened, made a hard lunge to halt the servant's

His fall broken, Jasper didn't thud the floor too hard; but it was hard enough to give his body a slight roll that

brought it face upward. Bulged eyes were already glassy. The leer on Jasper's dips was frozen.

That the first death wasn't an accident was proven by the second. Someone had certainly shoved the cornice

down upon Ambrose. For someone had designed the death that overtook Jasper. Even the blundering sheriff

couldn't overlook the evidence. He saw it before Cranston gestured solemnly toward it: the glass beside the

Picking up the glass, the sheriff sniffed it. He detected an odor quite apart from the grapelike scent of brandy.

Uncorking the brandy bottle, Cranston noted the same odor. The brandy itself had been doctored with the

A hush fell upon the room where a surrounding group of men were staring at the second man who had met

Behind those immobile features, the brain of The Shadow was at work. For the second time in those same

dozen minutes The Shadow had been too late to frustrate murder. But the deaths of both Ambrose and Jasper

Strange though The Shadow's theory might be, he was looking forward to its proof. Looking forward,

because the proof, in whatever form it took, would necessarily be more singular than the murders that

A LITTLE thing like a missing cornice was promptly forgotten when so potential a substance as poisoned

brandy lay at hand. Sheriff Quincy took over, and for a start demanded to know all about the bottle. Elbert

The bottle belonged in a liquor cabinet, along with a great many others. Ambrose had been told to bring it

Learning that the keys to the cabinet had been in Gail's possession, the sheriff sent for her. After Gail

recuperated from the shock of Jasper's death, she stated that the keys hadn't been out of her possession until

The next thing needed was the history of the bottle after Ambrose took it from the cabinet. It was a fresh

bottle, opened only that evening, for the last one had been broken in the fray with the masked man who had

"Ambrose must have brought the bottle up here," he stated, "because he was the only person who came into

"You say he must have brought it up," put in the sheriff. "Didn't you see him bring it?"

"No," returned Clive. "Ambrose was trying not to disturb me. He must have set the bottle down quite

"I didn't. The first time I saw the bottle was when I left here. I was in a hurry at the time, because I heard the

Clive's testimony was somewhat substantiated when a deputy brought word that there was a corkscrew lying

on the liquor cabinet, with the cap of a brandy bottle beside it. Obviously, Ambrose had pulled the cork

before bringing the bottle upstairs, which was why Clive hadn't heard the pop of the cork.

The sheriff was repeating for the tenth time that he would find out why someone wanted to murder the

"No one wanted to kill the servants," Corring argued. "Someone tried to murder Elbert, to begin with and

picked Ambrose by mistake. In this case, I was to be the victim, because the brandy was meant for me. Jasper

Corring's logic was good. The Shadow had expected him to present it. He had wondered how long it would

be before the idea occurred to the lawyer. It was only natural that Corring should express the point ahead of

The deaths of Ambrose and Jasper were taking on the nature of an unintended sacrifice: one, in behalf of

"And now," said Corring, noting that the sheriff had accepted the theory, "I propose that we proceed with the

reading of the wills. My time is valuable, Quincy, and so is Grath's. Why not let us handle our business while

For answer, the sheriff produced the two envelopes that he had brought from his office and handed each to

the proper lawyer. He decided to let his investigation wait until the wills were read.

"On the chance that these wills may have much to do with recent crime," declared Corring pointedly, "I

suggest that both be read in detail. The one you drew up is the earlier will, Grath. Perhaps you should read it

Grath agreed. The envelopes were opened. Grath began to read his will aloud, while Corring checked by his.

It became evident immediately that the wording ran much the same, except that Gail's name had been

"'And I, Tobias Browland, do hereby bequeath to my nephew, Clive Walden, my house, the land upon which

it stands, the fixtures and furniture said house, except as may be later specified '"

The droning continued. Finished with his reading of Clive's share, Grath came to Elbert's.

"'And to my nephew, Elbert Morion, I, Tobias Browland, bequeath my personal property, to wit: my library

and its books; all paintings in my art gallery; my collection of antiques. I also bequeath to said Elbert Morion

my safe and its contents, consisting of family heirlooms and business records.'"

At that point, Grath paused to turn a page. He adjusted the reading glasses that he was wearing. By then,

Corring had stopped checking on the second will, having found the statements regarding Elbert to be identical

"There is a final paragraph," declared Grath. "It simply says that any money among Browland's effects shall

"To the last penny," added Corring, with a smile. "The will I hold states the same thing, Grath. I don't have to

Grath showed the final page of the will he held. It bore the signature of Tobias Browland, boldly written.

One witness was Gail's father, who had been alive at the time when the will was drawn. The other was that of

a former servant in Browland's employ, a man who was still alive, but too old for further service.

It was Corring's turn to read the new will aloud. He did so in a drone that matched Grath's:

"'And I, Tobias Browland, do hereby bequeath to my ward, Gail Trent, my house, the land upon which it

stands, the fixtures and furniture of said house, except as may be later specified '"

And so on, until Corring had concluded with Gail's share, always emphasizing her name by way of contrast to

"'And to my nephew, Elbert Morion, I, Tobias Browland, bequeath my personal property, to wit: my library

and its books; all paintings in my art gallery; my collection of antiques. I also bequeath to said Elbert Morion

"Here is the final paragraph," said Corring, "referring to the money. It is very obvious in this case that the

heirs meant are the ones mentioned: namely, Gail and Elbert. There can be no possible dispute on that point.

"You may examine Browland's signature and those of the witnesses, who happen to be Ambrose and Jasper.

The fact that both witnesses are recently deceased can in no wise invalidate the will. Some persons may have

Corring paused, staring hard at Grath, whose face had taken on a surprising change. It was difficult to

describe or classify Grath's expression. It showed a mixture of amazement and triumph; with it, a doubt that

Corring began to think that Grath was having a heart attack and stretched a supporting hand in his direction.

Grath pressed the hand aside. He took off his glasses and looked straight at Corring.

"You and I both know one thing, Corring," stated Grath. "A will, to be valid, must have the signatures of the

testator and those of the witnesses. The original will has those, Corring, but this later one "

AS Grath shrugged, Corring looked at the original will lying on the desk, its signatures showing purple in the

yellow glow of the desk lamp. Then Corring turned his gaze to the will that he himself had drawn up at

From where he sat, Lamont Cranston was looking right between the lawyers. He knew the reason for the

conflicting expression on Grath's face. He watched the horrified astonishment that took hold of Corring's

The signatures that Corring had mentioned those of Tobias Browland and his servants, Ambrose and Jasper

Where signatures should have been, the sheet was blank. Three names, all belonging to men of the past, had

perished with them. Some other hand, also working in the past, had wiped off those allimportant signatures

What bearing did the result, in turn, have upon recent crime and tragedy within this house?

Those questions were flashing to every mind while Corring was frantically holding the new will to the

lamplight, hoping to find some traces of the missing signature, believing, perhaps, that the heat from the lamp

Men were answering their selfput questions. All but Corring. He was too wrapped up in his efforts to regain

The men who had the answers turned to Clive Walden. His own face blank, Clive read their accusations. One

man, of course, was Elbert Morion. Another was Sheriff Quincy, whose animosity wasn't unexpected. But

"It's very plain, Clive," he said coldly. "You are the gainer because the signatures are missing. The old will

names you as an heir, while the new one gives your share to Gail. If you can explain this "

"Explain it!" broke in Clive. "Explain something that happened to a will that I never even saw! Why, I wasn't

"I really hope you weren't," returned Elbert. "After all, Clive, I can be neutral. My share of the estate is the

same in either will. I hope you can prove that you had no hand in this. You have simply to establish the fact

It was something that Clive couldn't prove, and knew it. He'd been here, in this very house, at the time Elbert

specified. But Elbert's words were not the reason why Clive suddenly lost heart. He was in a mood to fight it

The girl was Gail Trent. She was seated near the door, and her eyes were fixed on Clive. The light that Clive

knew so well was gone entirely from her eyes. Her face showed no accusation; not even reproach. It

Hurt that came from Gail's heart. All her belief in Clive was broken. One element had carried her all along:

She had thought that such trust was shared. Whatever was hers, was Clive's, and Gail had been sure he

understood and was willing to reciprocate. No longer was she sure. She couldn't be.

Clive wanted everything for himself. Such was the only answer; otherwise, he wouldn't have cared a whit

about the change in his uncle's will. His return could only mean a plot on his part to make the old will stand

A campaign of three murders, all for Clive's benefit. Tobias Browland, maker of the will was dead, as were

the witnesses, Ambrose and Jasper. Bold crimes, with Clive ever on the spot, using Gail's loyalty to help him

over some of the rough spots. Such were the thoughts that flooded Gail's mind; and Clive understood.

CLIVE watched Gail approach Elbert and press her hands upon the rival cousin's arm. When the hurt look

By then, Clive no longer cared what happened; he felt that Gail was lost to him forever. He didn't hear the

sheriff's voice announcing his arrest for triple murder. Nor did Clive feel the handcuffs that clamped, cold, on

They hauled Clive to his feet and marched him from the room. His lips showed that hard half smile, the

calloused expression, that really hid a deep emotion. On his way to jail, Clive didn't bother to look back at the

One face was totally impassive. It belonged to Lamont Cranston. Its very immobility was expressive, and

there was one person who understood Cranston's mood. Margo Lane knew that Cranston was reserving

What else was in his mind, she couldn't guess. Often, Margo had tried to penetrate Cranston's inscrutable

For Cranston's face, when it took that look, was a mask for the mind behind it: The Shadow's!

Margo gained one glimmer only, and it was really the result of her own intuition. She was considering the

thing that Cranston had foreseen: the mystery of the vanished signatures that belonged on the new will.

It seemed that murder was out; but was it? That question, Margo realized, was allimportant to The Shadow.

The real riddle remained to be solved, and it was a riddle of the past. Everything that had happened later

stemmed from that one initial crime: the trick that caused the signatures to vanish. A crime of lesser

consequence in itself, it had proven heinous, for it was the direct cause of more deaths than one.

How facts could be fitted to reveal the hand responsible for evil was a problem for The Shadow. Whether the

burden belonged upon Clive Walden, or otherwise, was not the immediate issue. The problem was to

Once all the facts of the machination were recognized, later events would piece into the picture and thereby

LAMONT CRANSTON was in the Browland library looking through some of the old volumes in the

historical collection. The excitement of the previous evening had overtaxed his strength, and he was again

When Margo Lane came into the library, she was almost convinced that Lamont's relapse was real. He

certainly couldn't be solving the mystery of Browland's will here in the library. Others were at work on that

matter, in the study, and by right, Cranston should be with them. Furthermore, the will seemed very far from

"You mean Gail, of course," replied Margo. "She's still in her room, as she has been all day."

"Of course. But whenever she answers, which is very seldom, she does it with sobs."

Cranston nodded slowly. He still believed that Gail would recover from her lovesick condition and talk to

Margo. For that matter, Margo shared Cranston's belief but was tired of waiting for Gail to come around.

"The experts are still working on the will," announced Margo. "They've given up on one idea, though. Those

"The ink was darkblue," continued Margo, "or very nearly purple. There's a bottle of it on the shelf in the

"They've written with it," added Margo, "and blotted it with all sorts of acid solutions. I think they made it

Margo nodded. She explained, further, that the experts had used a mixture of starch and iodine to produce

They'd written with the solution; then bleached it, only to find that they could trace the writing under a

fluorescent light. But neither such light, nor anything else, sufficed to make the will show its vanished

"Starch and iodine are not the answer," assured Margo, "nor any other of the purple concoctions they've tried.

They just can't find the formula, if there is one, although the study is beginning to smell like a chem lab."

Cranston decided to look in on the experts. He rose wearily from his chair and started upstairs with Margo. At

"It won't do," returned Margo glumly. "She's been given too much leeway, Lamont, and the same was true of

Clive. What good would it be to quiz either of them? If they broke down and told something more, it would

"Leeway always helps," declared Cranston. "If you really encourage Gail, she may, talk further than you or

Cranston continued into the study, to see how the chemists and other experts were making out.

THERE were four of them, and they had begun to dispute among themselves. One man was still arguing in

favor of inks. He was drying a dozen sheets of Browland's watermarked paper, and was experimenting in

He was using secret inks that did not show until developed by some process. From simple lemon juice, which

revealed itself when he heated the paper over the desk lamp, the expert was going into chemical methods that

The room reeked with ammonia fumes, because the chemists had been using a coppersulphate solution;

which the ammonia developed into paleblue writing. The trouble was that he couldn't make the writing

He did have a combination of linseed oil and ammonia that appeared when the paper was soaked in water and

vanished when it dried. But that didn't fill the bill at all. The study merely smelled worse after the experiment.

The others called upon Cranston for an opinion. They believed that they were entirely off the track. The only

answer appeared to be that someone had switched the signed will for a blank. The thing was possible, of

Either Corring, the lawyer, or Quincy, the sheriff, could have made the switch, but The Shadow saw no

reason to tag either of them as suspects. Clive hadn't even handled the will; nor, for that matter, had Elbert.

True, one or the other might have taken it from the sheriff's safe, but The Shadow remembered that trusted

The real answer lay with the will itself. Somehow, the brain that arranged the writing's vanish had also

foreseen the expert tests that would follow, and had therefore allowed for them. The fact remained that the

Looking about the study, The Shadow visualized the scene. He saw the desk lamp, the sheets of paper

showing very white under its glow. He noted the bullet dent in its heavy base and remembered that a masked

intruder, Zeke Hemble, had provided some diversion soon after the will was signed.

He looked at Browland's chair, then to the corner where the old man had kept his cane handy to repel just

All these points were hearsay, for The Shadow had not witnessed the scene itself. However, all the persons

present at the time had agreed in their accounts. It could be that certain details had escaped mention. If so,

The Shadow wanted them. Mere trivialities, perhaps, that hadn't seemed worthy of account, yet those could

There was one person who could provide them honestly and, The Shadow hoped, with new sidelights. That

person was Gail Trent. Sooner or later, she would break her silence if Margo's sympathy continued. It was

Thoroughly on the defensive, Gail would hold back testimony, as such, but she would be equally willing to

Proof of it was evident in Gail's room. There, Gail was in bed, her face deep in the pillows, which

Gail had been in bed until noon, when she had dressed and come downstairs for lunch. Mere sight of the

Hysterically, Gail had rushed upstairs again and thrown herself back into bed. Her clothes were scattered all

Bed was her one refuge; when the pillows didn't suffice, she could pull the covers over her head and shut out

all the world, including Margo. At present, however, Gail was aware that Margo had come into the room, and

Turning her head slightly, Gail opened one eye and peeked at Margo, who wasn't even looking Gail's way.

Margo was going about the room gathering Gail's clothes and arranging them very neatly, on a chair. She

As an afterthought, Margo went to the closet and brought out Gail's slippers and negligee, arranging them at

the foot of the bed. She brought a vase of flowers from the dressing table and placed them on the window sill,

where Gail would see them when she opened her eyes. Turning, Margo tiptoed toward the door of the room.

Sudden appreciation gripped Gail. She tilted up in bed, fought back a sob, and called chokily:

The break had come. Gail began to sob out all the facts that she had previously retracted, admitting her faults

and begging Margo's advice. For a while, there wasn't any advice that Margo could give, for Gail was merely

"Clive thinks I can't prove anything against him. If I hadn't once loved him, I would show him that he is

"You can't prove that he was here the night his uncle died," returned Margo. "You didn't really see him, you

"But I still have the note he left!" exclaimed Gail triumphantly. "Clive thinks I destroyed it, but I didn't."

"Why, the one that said to come to the summerhouse," Gail replied. "I thought I'd mentioned it, just now. It

Sliding from bed, Gail went to the dresser and opened the top drawer. She found the crumpled sheet of paper

and unfolded it. Finding one side blank, Gail turned it over. The other side was blank, too.

"How stupid of me!" Gail exclaimed. "I must have taken the wrong paper from the wastebasket. I threw the

note there, along with some letters I hadn't finished." She looked across the room and added: "And the

Margo detected a new note in Gail's tone. In a very few minutes, Gail had lost her ardor toward denouncing

Clive and seemed really glad that the incriminating message was gone. But Margo, stirred by another

"In ink," replied Gail. "I remember that part, perfectly. You see the ink was red, so vivid that the writing

Gail hesitated, hedging mentally, as on previous occasions where Clive's fate was concerned. Then,

remembering that the evidence was gone, she decided that Cranston could be told. In fact, Gail seemed quite

"Hurry into some clothes, then," said Margo. "I'll be down in the library with Lamont. You can join us there."

MARGO took the crumpled paper along. Cranston had returned to the library, and looked up from his book

She told him about the note that Clive had written, and explained that it must have been on a sheet much

Cranston was holding the paper to the light. He saw its watermark, the sort found on the bond paper in

Browland's study. The sheet was thin, for notepaper. Folding the blank paper, he put it in his pocket and gave

"Yes," repeated Margo, "but I don't think there's any red ink in the house. There might be at the factory, but

we're not at all sure Clive stopped there. The ink must have been in his own fountain pen, if he carried one.

Gail arrived at that moment. She was wearing the negligee, and had put it on in a hurry. She was anxious to

make sure that Margo reported everything correctly to Cranston. Gail was pleased when Cranston proved

"Could Clive have written the note in the study," he queried, "before the others came upstairs?"

"I suppose so," replied Gail. "He would have passed the study on the way to my room."

"I'm sure it was. Yes, I remember seeing the light, every time I passed it. The study lamp is quite bright."

"Yet it wasn't bright enough for you or any of the others to recognize the masked man when he arrived."

As Cranston spoke, Margo gave him an anxious look, fearing that he was trying to trap Gail and that she

Gail's confidence, however, had been fully won. She furrowed her forehead, really wondering why the

masked man's bandanna handkerchief had served him so well in a light that was really bright.

"His face was mostly a blur," said Gail slowly. "You couldn't quite tell where the mask ended. Of course, he

had it down to his chin, but it must have flapped some when he moved around. Yet I couldn't glimpse his face

"Really" Gail's gaze was very honest "if I thought that Clive was the masked man, I'd tell you so, Mr.

Gail nodded. Again; Margo thought that Lamont had tried a trick. He'd seen the bandanna, a blue one, picked

up on the lawn. He might be testing Gail's story. Then Cranston was asking Gail for a detailed version of the

She told of Elbert's intervention: how the flying inkstand had spoiled the masked man's aim. The shot that hit

the lamp broke the bulb, she testified, and that produced darkness. She described how Ambrose and Jasper

"Of course, Browland brought his cane," put in Cranston. "He was apt to grab it in an emergency, wasn't he?"

"I suppose he brought it," returned Gail. "I don't remember seeing it when Mr. Browland caught me at the

front stairway, so I wouldn't fall. But he must have had the cane, because he was carrying it later, when he

"You were here then, Mr. Cranston. Don't you remember how the cane clattered down the old stairs, too?"

Cranston remembered, and nodded. The afternoon was late, so he ended the quiz. He had to go to New York,

The girls saw him to the door and watched him drive away in Margo's car. Gail was disappointed. The

Margo admitted disappointment, too. She really believed that Lamont had wearied. She could only hope that

he had gleaned something of real value from his chat with Gail. But she was sure that he had not learned very

It happened that Margo had failed utterly to penetrate the Cranston mask. Her friend, The Shadow, had

welded all the needed links. Far sooner than Margo or Gail expected, The Shadow would return to crack the

More than murder would come out. Motive would be revealed, treachery exposed, and crime's

accomplishment nullified. For The Shadow intended to solve the riddle of Browland's unsigned will by

IT was evening, and a group was gathered in Browland's study to listen to an illustrated lecture. Quite a

letdown, after the part that this room had played in tragedy, but the sheriff had hopes that the lecture would

produce results. On that account, he had brought Clive Walden from the county jail to witness the event.

The lecture was to be given by the experts who had tried every known device, so they said, to restore the

They had failed, but Clive didn't know it. So the sheriff was trying a little psychology. The idea was for the

experts to act as wise as they looked, and go through with the same experiments they had tried that afternoon.

It seemed to be working rather well. From across the study, the sheriff watched Clive, who was seated

between two guards. He noticed that Clive was restless and kept glancing his way often.

If the sheriff had turned around, he would have seen Gail Trent behind him and might have realized that

Margo Lane was on one side of Gail, Elbert Morion on the other. Gail kept exchanging words with her

companions, and every time she turned toward Elbert, Clive's face took on a bitter smile that his eyes backed

The sheriff didn't know that those were symptoms of worry. He simply decided that Clive was a hard nut to

crack, but that sooner or later the smile would be gone and the prisoner's eyes would show a hunted look,

The experts were using Browland's old safe as a stand for a projector, and were turning the light on a screen

they had hung on the opposite wall. The slides they were showing illustrated the methods of developing

After such preliminaries, they turned off the projector and began a demonstration with sheets of paper,

chemical preparations, and fluorescent lights, talking with a great deal of technicality.

The sheriff decided to play his hand. He interrupted the chemist who held the floor.

"Can't you explain this in simpler terms'" queried the sheriff. "So that we can all understand it?"

"Certainly," said the chemist, responding to the cue. "It means, sheriff, that we shall certainly restore the

writing on that will. We can't use all these tests on the document at one time, and there are some which will

require special care. You may rest assured, however, that we shall have the signatures before tomorrow

The sheriff looked at Clive and noticed that he had become indifferent. He gestured to the experts; they

started to take the projector from atop the heavy safe. It was then that a voice from the hallway stopped them.

"Hello," he greeted. "Trying some more of those tests that won't work? You chaps are certainly persistent."

Sheriff Quincy felt like adding another sudden death to those that had occurred within the mansion. The

sheriff would have liked to deal it, with Cranston as the victim. He threw a quick look at Clive and saw the

Cranston's banter had told Clive exactly what this gettogether was about. He relished the joke on Quincy,

LAMONT CRANSTON was quite himself again, the indolent New York clubman who found life boring. He

In chatty mood, he explained that he was on his way to a party in New Haven and had made a detour to

Riverdale just to see how things were coming along. He was swinging his walking stick idly as he leaned in

"Do you know," Cranston resumed, "I thought I might give you some help. When I arrived back in town, I

Cranston didn't pause to add that the consultant had been himself, though in a different personality. As The

Shadow, he had spent some time in his own laboratory trying an experiment. Continuing, Cranston said

"I learned of some stuff called hydropide. It's made by adding phenolphthalein to ammonia. Of course, you

must have the right proportions, if you want the best results. In that case, you can use hydropide like ink, only

"Very thoughtful of you, Mr. Cranston. It just happens that you've overlooked the most important detail.

Hydropide is a red solution. Browland's will wasn't signed in red ink. The ink used was a darkblue, slightly

"I confess my ignorance," he said. "I had a druggist make up some hydropide and send it over. I found out

He paused; stepping into the room, he hung his cane on the back of a chair and brought an envelope from his

pocket. Laying it on the safe beside the projector, he asked to see Browland's will, the one without the

Folding back the first pages, he hung them over the screen on the far wall, so that the last page of the will was

Going to the projector, he focused it on the will. He asked that other lights be turned off; while that was being

done, Cranston opened the envelope. From it, he produced slides of colored glass and began to insert them

"A chap at my club goes in for lighting effects," explained Cranston. "Theatrical work, optical

First, an orange slide; then a blue one. Cranston was making pretty colors, which transferred themselves to

the screen, but did nothing more. He used a red instead of the others, throwing a lurid light through the room.

Then, choosing a slide which was marked "Amber," he started to put it in back of the green; changed his

Persons closest to the screen observed a faint trace of something on the last page of the will. Cranston stepped

"See, sheriff?" Cranston queried. "The signatures! Faint, I admit, but it brings them out. I can tell you

something else. If you take a photograph through a special kind of filter, it will step them up.

"Here" he thumbed through a notebook and tore out a page "this tells you the right filter and how to set

Squinting, the sheriff was reading Browland's signature on the will, with those of the servants who had

witnessed it. The two lawyers were present, and had approached to stare over the sheriff's shoulders.

They both agreed that the will was valid; that photostats, if they came up to Cranston's claim, would stand as

Removing the will from the screen, Cranston gave it to the sheriff. He took a piece of paper from his pocket,

used a bit of adhesive tape to attach it to the screen. Under the peculiar light, the paper showed a message.

THE girl had spoken before she realized it. There was a hoarse cry from Clive as he bounded to his feet. The

guards caught him and pinned his arms behind him. Clive was storming at Gail, accusing her of treachery.

"Just a piece of paper that I happened to pick out of a wastebasket," remarked Cranston. "While I was here, I

wanted to make a few notes on some books in the library. When we were testing the lights at the club, I used

How accidental it all seemed! If Margo Lane hadn't known that Lamont Cranston was The Shadow, she

would have believed that he had stumbled on so many things by chance. But Cranston was by no means

He removed the slides from the projector, and in the white light, produced a little bottle of hydropide. He

wrote a few lines and held them to the light. They showed in vivid red, exactly as Clive's note had first

appeared to Gail. Still keeping the paper in the light, he dropped a blue slide in front of the projector.

Not having had time to fade, the red writing blended with the blue glow to produce a definite purple, the

"You see," remarked Cranston, "we have blue reading lamps at the club. They're quite the thing nowadays.

So when the hydropide came over from the druggist, I thought, at first, that it was darkpurple instead of

He stepped over and turned on the desk lamp, then went back and detached the projector.

"That's very odd!" Cranston looked at the paper again and saw red writing on it. "I supposed that this desk

"It did have!" broke in Gail. "I remember! Jasper put in a new bulb that afternoon. He said that Mr. Browland

"No. Ambrose attended to such matters. He was always very careful to keep the inkstand filled "

Gail broke off, surprised by the faces about her. She suddenly realized that she had implicated the servants in

the plot. Each had played his part in preparing the scene for the signing of a will that would repudiate itself.

But the fact that Ambrose and Jasper had been accomplices in no wise cleared Clive of the major blame. He

"Why would Ambrose or Jasper work against my uncle?" demanded Clive. "He had treated them well for

"In the past, yes," observed Cranston. "They must have been thinking of the future, hoping for a share of the

estate. As witnesses to the will, they could not be named in it. Each might have willingly listened to other

"If you think I murdered my uncle, you're wrong. Gail didn't even see me at the time. She saw someone in a

Gail wanted to remind Clive that he had appeared in that same cloak, later, but Cranston intervened.

"Let's look at the old stairway," he suggested. "Talk of a man in black reminds me of a chap called The

Shadow. He stamps out crime. If Gail saw him, he must have been trying to aid Browland."

Clive gave a sly glance. Cranston's efforts to vindicate The Shadow were helpful to Clive. He followed

willingly when the guards thrust him toward the hall. Cranston walked ahead; since he was carrying a cane,

Pushing the door inward over the old stairs, Cranston stepped downward, wangling his cane back and forth.

"I don't see how Browland could have been carrying his stick," said Cranston. "Look. Mine is as long as the

A FEW steps down, Cranston no longer had his cane. Its handle had caught on an old rail post on a level with

the second floor. The ferrule was wedged beneath the door and the ledge on the other side. Cranston couldn't

find his cane in the dark, until he stumbled against it as he came up the steps.

Fortunately, Cranston was stumbling up; not down. Hands caught him from above; he steadied, eased down a

few steps and worked himself under the cane, rather than attempt to tug it loose. Joining the others, Cranston

"So that was it!" he exclaimed. "You can't even see the stick. No wonder Browland's cane was splintered! It

must have wedged the way mine did. But he certainly wasn't making a test of the stairway."

"Of course he wasn't," put in Elbert. "I don't believe that Uncle Tobias was carrying his cane. I'd say that

someone jammed it there. You've cleared The Shadow, Cranston. Our task is to find the real murderer."

Eyes were already fixed on Clive, as he stared at the death snare that Cranston had duplicated in such

accidental style. It certainly explained Browland's death. Stepping down to close the door, as was his habit,

All eyes bore accusation, Gail's included. But Margo was looking at Cranston. He gave a slight shrug and

turned away. It signified that he had solved the whole thing as a matter of routine; that done, he was going on

Too bad, thought Margo, that it had to be Clive, but the circumstances were all against him. She'd have liked

to go alone, with Lamont, but realized that she ought to stay with Gail. So, with the rest, Margo retraced her

She didn't even listen for the strain of a parting laugh that she sometimes heard when Cranston lapsed into his

other self. Margo was sure that it would not come. Though Cranston had answered certain riddles, they had

Solving crime by simply establishing the obvious could be no triumph for The Shadow!

CLIVE WALDEN didn't long resist the grilling that began when he reached the study. Bombarded with

accusations, he volunteered to answer them by telling his whole story. They let him talk, and he gave the

He'd come back to learn what was happening in his uncle's house. His friend, Hemble, the watchman, had

doublecrossed him by moving the car from the elms while Clive was in the mansion.

Obviously, Hemble must have had crooks aiding him, to further some plan of his own which would make

Denying that he had played any part in his uncle's death, Clive claimed that he had returned to the attic, the

night of his meeting with Gail, and had stayed there until he heard pounding at the door. Admitting that he

had left by the roof route, Clive simply said that his questioners knew the rest.

"We know the rest, Clive," he assured. "Clever of you, to lay a death trap for Uncle Tobias. Cranston's

discovery makes it impossible for us to prove that murder against you. But when circumstantial evidence

"You were up here, alone, when Ambrose brought the bottle that he had opened. You were the only man who

could have poisoned that brandy as bait for Jasper. You knew how to bring Jasper to the bottle. Death would

"The death of Ambrose How simple it was for you to reach the window above the side door and loosen the

cornice when Ambrose stepped beneath; then to come downstairs and play innocent, while Jasper,

"We were both fools," Elbert told the lawyer, "to think that murder was meant for us, while Clive was simply

The case was perfect. Staring, Clive could find no suitable answer. He rose to his feet when his guards urged

him. He was due for another march back to the county jail, a death parade, for no jury would acquit a man on

An interruption halted Clive. The telephone was ringing on the study desk. The sheriff answered it, held a

short but pointed conversation, and then hung up. His face showed that the call had impressed him.

"It was from New York," Quincy announced. "The police commissioner was on the wire. They've been

checking on that crook who spilled himself into the ravine, Mech Woodum. They say he left New York with

"The main thing, though, is that both were friends of Hemble. They called him Zeke, the commissioner said,

because his specialty was picking small towns as places to operate, and playing dumb while he was there."

"You see, Elbert?" put Clive. "There goes your robbery charge. Hemble must have rifled the factory safe

himself, and let me take the blame. He came here for bigger game, thinking he could frame me again.

"Maybe" Clive nudged to the study safe that bore the name of Tobias Browland in letters of gleaming gold

The matter provided a brief delay, even though Elbert scoffed at Clive's theory. Margo was thinking hard

about the call from New York. She didn't doubt that Lamont could have arranged it, for he was a great friend

Cranston must have doubled back, after leaving the mansion, and simply made the call from the extension

phone downstairs. A very simple matter, calling the local operator and asking for a test ring. Lamont could

Perhaps Cranston was about to return in person. Eagerly, Margo looked to the doorway and gave a little

INSTANTLY, Margo understood why The Shadow, as Cranston, had cleared all blemish from his other

personality. He had needed to return as The Shadow to settle final facts that only his cloaked presence could

back. Already, The Shadow was creating awe. Men sat transfixed as they faced him.

His first words, uttered in whispered tone that carried traces of a laugh, were cleverly put, indeed. They

implied that he had been outside the study door when the sheriff received the commissioner's call, thus

"So you have learned about Zeke Hemble," spoke The Shadow. "It was time you did. He was the masked

man who entered here, but his purpose was not robbery. He was also an accomplice in the matter of the will."

Elbert Morion, less awed than the others, looked toward the sheriff and gave a knowing nod. The Shadow

"Zeke placed one shot well," The Shadow continued, his whisper carrying a trace of sibilance. "He crashed

the lamp and broke its blue bulb, thus rendering a valuable service to a criminal scheme."

No one was surprised that The Shadow was acquainted with the trick of the blue light. His whole appearance,

together with his speech, marked him as a being who would be acquainted with the vital facts.

"A criminal scheme," repeated The Shadow, "fostered by a clever plotter who dealt in triple murder because

This was tagging it hard on Clive. A smile showed on Elbert's smooth features. He was liking The Shadow

"Zeke's invasion was merely a fake," The Shadow concluded. "He had a task to do, and did it. A task more

subtle than picking the lamp with a bullet. He had to delay that shot, at first.

"You must all realize" The Shadow was advancing into the room "that another article required some

Stretching a gloved hand, The Shadow advanced it to the desk and lifted the oldfashioned inkstand!

Even the slowest thinker present could not fail to grasp the import. The trick of the vanishing signatures had

The imitation ink could not be left as an exhibit. Disposing of it was a vital matter. And someone had

The whole thing flashed to Gail: how Elbert had chucked the inkstand at the masked man while the latter

She found her voice and began to proclaim the fact, while Corring, on his feet, was booming his support of

her testimony: a game between Zeke Hemble and the man who had hired him, the real master of the show,

THE SHADOW was pointing to the exact spot where Zeke had stood. He was indicating something that he

had noted that afternoon: not evidence, but the lack of it, which counted even more.

On the rug where the inkstand had struck, there wasn't a trace of any stain. Small wonder. The "ink" was the

"So that explains it!" snapped Clive. "You had Hemble fixed six months ago. You gave him the combination

and he rifled the office safe of what little it had to put the blame on me. He pretended to be my friend, and

coaxed me here at the time you stipulated. So that he and a couple of crooks like him could frame me again,

"The facts are unsupported," he declared. "Suppose that I wanted to get rid of both Ambrose and Jasper. What

opportunity did I have to murder them?" His tone was defiant. "Can anyone tell me?"

"The process was very simple," came The Shadow's sibilant tone. "You made each servant believe that he

was the sole accomplice. Ambrose thought that the ink was the whole trick. Jasper believed the light to be

"Each dreaded the time when the blank will would be shown. Each was ready to lie, saying that he wasn't

sure that he had signed it, but feared that the other's testimony would outweigh his. So you prevailed upon

"Ambrose put the poison in the brandy, confident that Clive would be blamed when Jasper died from it.

Jasper stationed himself at the window above the side door and pushed the cornice when Ambrose appeared

The "perfect" case against Clive Walden faded into insignificance as The Shadow revealed these details of

supercrime that Elbert Morion had concocted. Then, before Elbert could offer a word in dispute, The Shadow

"I should have foreseen your intent, Morion, when you masqueraded as myself the night you threatened

Cranston. You learned that Walden had worn my hat and cloak and that Gail knew it. When you found those

"When you fled, you dumped them on Ambrose and Jasper, while you made for the side door and doubled

back again. It proved them both to be your accomplices. When each was reluctant to support the other's

"Cranston must have thought so. It wasn't until Ambrose met with sudden death that Cranston realized

Gail Trent didn't hear the rest. Her eyes brimming, she was looking to Clive Walden, seeking his forgiveness

for her doubts. He had left the cloak and hat in the study, as he promised, with The Shadow's gun and

Clive smiled as he returned Gail's gaze. He couldn't blame her doubts, considering that Elbert was their

ELBERT was brazen in tone, sneering that his accuser's words were mere fancy. Even if they proved correct,

the mutual murders in which Ambrose and Jasper had indulged were their own deeds, not Elbert's.

"You dealt in murder of your own," The Shadow interposed. "Someone set the death snare for your uncle,

and you were the man. You took the cane when you pursued Hemble. You wedged it on the old stairway.

You expected Browland to follow immediately, but it was not until later that he stepped into the trap."

Again, Gail looked at Clive. These words were substantiation of Clive's claim that he had tried to save his

uncle when he stumbled on the stairs and took the cane with him in his fall. Elbert, however, was still

The Shadow turned to the lawyers who were standing by. He spoke in a commanding tone:

"Read both wills! Specifically, the final clause dealing with Morion's share of the estate."

The Shadow gestured that Grath had read enough. He turned to Corring, who quoted from the new will:

"Not quite the same," he declared, "though they were accepted as identical. Tobias Browland was a man of

judgment. He once favored his nephew, Elbert; then changed his opinion. So he bequeathed to Gail Trent his

most valued possession: the safe which was in this room. He knew that Gail intended to marry Clive "

The Shadow did not finish. Diving for the desk, Elbert scooped out the watchman's gun that once belonged to

Hemble. It was loaded, and Elbert hoped to down The Shadow with it. He stiffened as he heard a taunting

Eyes rising ahead of the revolver, Elbert saw himself covered by a .45 automatic in The Shadow's gloved

Eyes turning, The Shadow saw Lippy Carther. The missing marksman had muscled back into the picture at a

most untimely moment. Lippy held a revolver trained on The Shadow, but he wasn't quite ready to fire.

"Move out, Morion," spoke Lippy to Elbert. "I thought you doublecrossed Zeke, but it looks like you didn't.

Before Elbert could make the shift that Lippy wanted, The Shadow whirled. He caught Elbert, sent him on a

The Shadow couldn't fade, for everyone else was diving for the sides of the room. He wheeled for the only

Guns were barking, but their aim was wide. They were missing The Shadow and bashing against the safe.

Suddenly away from the great black box, The Shadow fired at the really dangerous member of the pair before

From his new angle, The Shadow had the advantage. He pumped shots home before Lippy could manage

Elbert hadn't waited. He was out through the door, having spent most of his bullets. The Shadow was after

him, and the persons scattered about the study could hear the titanic laugh that the blackclad fighter uttered.

The mirth promised doom for Elbert Morion, but the shots that listeners heard were not from The Shadow's

A SHRIEK echoed through the mansion. As it trailed, it was accompanied by the crashing tumble of a human

A sharp pop sounded the cracking of a human skull. After it came a slight but curious clatter of a stick of

Elbert had fled by the old stairway, forgetting that Cranston's cane was still wedged across its breadth. His

murder of his uncle was proven by Elbert's own demonstration. The duplicate of the pitfall that he once

A great hush lay within the upstairs study, until Margo Lane glanced toward the old safe. Her exclamation

brought the full attention of the others. Half a dozen bullets had bashed the safe front and left their marks.

Not mere blackened dents, but scars of gold that matched the decorations on the front.

Clive Walden reached the safe, and his arm encircled Gail Trent when she arrived. Like the rest, they saw

what the brilliant spots meant. Clive stroked his fingers over the letters that spelled his uncle's name. They

They were gold, real gold, like the whole bulk of the safe! Bullets that missed The Shadow had knocked

Gold, to the weight of hundreds of pounds, representing hundreds of thousands of dollars!

This was the real wealth of Tobias Browland, which only his nephew Elbert had guessed until The Shadow

A miser at heart, Browland had sworn some artisan to secrecy and had him construct a safe entirely of gold,

masked by black paint, except where stenciled name and decorations peered through.

By the new will, which The Shadow had restored, this wealth belonged to Gail Trent and would be shared by

the man she really loved, Clive Walden. Such was the uppermost thought of all who viewed the reunited pair

Though she was glad that all had turned out well for Gail and Clive, Margo Lane was standing by the study

This time it came, faint, distant, trailing, but lacking nothing of its strange, expressive mirth.