THE LIVING JOSS ............................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. SHADOWS OF CHINATOWN.......................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE MEETING ...............................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. THE AFTERMATH.......................................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. A STRANGE SUMMONS..........................................................................................13

CHAPTER V. THE LIVING JOSS .......................................................................................................18

CHAPTER VI. KWA PREPARES ........................................................................................................21

CHAPTER VII. A CHANCE CALL .....................................................................................................24

CHAPTER VIII. THE YELLOW FACE ...............................................................................................27

CHAPTER IX. AT THE UNION CLUB..............................................................................................32

CHAPTER X. THE CRAFT OF CHUN SHI ........................................................................................35

CHAPTER XI. THE SHADOW MOVES .............................................................................................37

CHAPTER XII. THE MIGHT OF KOY SHAN...................................................................................40

CHAPTER XIII. THE SHADOW'S CLEWS ........................................................................................43

CHAPTER XIV. THE SHADOW LEARNS........................................................................................47

CHAPTER XV. THE NEXT NIGHT ....................................................................................................51

CHAPTER XVI. ON THE STAIRS ......................................................................................................56

CHAPTER XVII. THE HANDS OF KWA ...........................................................................................59

CHAPTER XVIII. DOWN TO CHINATOWN....................................................................................62

CHAPTER XIX. THE LATE VISITOR...............................................................................................66

CHAPTER XX. WORK IS ENDED.....................................................................................................68

CHAPTER XXI. CARDONA FOLLOWS A HUNCH........................................................................70

CHAPTER XXII. THE LAW MOVES .................................................................................................74

CHAPTER XXIII. CARDONA'S STRATEGY ....................................................................................76

CHAPTER XXIV. THE SHADOW ADVANCES...............................................................................79

CHAPTER XXV. IN THE TEMPLE....................................................................................................80

CHAPTER XXVI. THE ROOM BELOW............................................................................................83

CHAPTER XXVII. DOOM TO THE FIEND! ......................................................................................84

HAZY night had settled over Manhattan. The rumble of a departing elevated train came through the mist as a

solitary man came down the dingy iron stairway from the downtown station. Reaching the street, the man

stopped just beside the steps to light a cigarette which he had thrust in a short, goldbanded holder.

The glare of the match revealed a cunning face, topped with sleek black eyebrows that indicated the color of

the man's hair. Flicking the match into the gutter, the man strolled leisurely along the street beside the

There was something of the military in the man's bearing, combined with a nonchalance. His erect carriage,

which made him seem taller than his middle height, was unusual for this locality; for all those who passed

A poorly clad derelict shambled toward the erect walker and whined a request for a few cents to make up

coffee money. The reply that he received was a sharp refusal, so scoffing in tone that the bum hastily

slouched away. The strolling man emitted an ugly laugh, then puffed at his cigarette. He spied a narrow

The little thoroughfare was illuminated only by dull lamps when the sallowfaced man entered it; but as he

reached a turn in the street, the stroller entered the zone of an indirect glare which increased as he continued

to the next turn. Swinging at a sharp angle, the man came into view of a bizarre scene that seemed like a

The wayfarer was approaching the outskirts of New York's Chinatown. A city within a city, this quaint

The hovering fog added to the picturesque glow of lighted doors and windows. The curving street led on

toward a brilliant zone which might well have been a portion of old Shanghai. Yellow faces peered from

A PLEASED, knowing smile appeared upon the stroller's lips. The sallowcomplexioned man seemed to find

a familiar interest in his new surroundings. His shifting eyes noted the features of solemnfaced Celestials.

Still smoking his cigarette, the man was noting the expressions of yellow faces with an observation that

The visitor's shifting gaze noted more than those who passed him on the street. His shrewd eyes glanced into

Oriental shops, into groundfloor eating rooms, where Chinamen were gibbering as they manipulated

At times the stroller paused, catching words that he heard uttered; then he continued onward into Chinatown.

He reached the corner of Mott and Pell Streets, that busy center in the heart of the Chinese district. Here, his

The man looked up toward a lighted balcony high above the street the reputed headquarters of a Chinese

tong. Then his steadying gaze centered itself upon the many yellow faces that were passing.

Two Chinamen walked by, engaged in low discussion between themselves. The sallowfaced man watched

them with narrowing gaze. He strolled after them as they continued up one thoroughfare.

The Orientals, clad in American garments, did not notice the man behind them. They turned into a side street.

The new thoroughfare was nothing more than a dingy alley, lined by blank walls, with occasional obscure

shops. A single light, jutting from a wall, indicated a restaurant about a hundred feet ahead. This was

So intent, however, was the sallowfaced man that he paid no attention to anything other than the men just

ahead of him. He did not notice that there was someone else going in the same direction, but on the other side

of the street. In fact, he could scarcely have seen this new personage, for the stranger's presence was barely

A tall, moving form that had a human shape; a weird phantom of the night this was all that indicated the

More apparent, indeed, than the shape which caused it, was a long, grotesque shadow that moved upon the

opposite sidewalk. A silhouetted blotch that kept pace with the Chinamen and the man behind them; this was

The Chinamen stopped at the light and went into the obscure restaurant. This consisted of a fairsized room,

with nearly a dozen tables. At the present hour, it was deserted. The Chinamen took a table at the side of the

A few minutes later, the sallowfaced man entered. He looked about him with the air of a man who had made

One of the Celestials blinked blandly at the newcomer, then spoke to his companion. The gist of his remark

in Chinese was that this must be some chance American making a random trip to Chinatown.

A waiter appeared, carrying bowls of food, which he placed before the Chinese patrons. They were evidently

regular eaters here. When the waiter turned to the American, the latter addressed him in singsong fashion.

Again, one of the Chinamen spoke in his native tongue. He mentioned that this man was unquestionably a

chance sightseer. Chop suey was a dish favored by those who were not accustomed to real Chinese

TO most Occidentals, Chinese faces are expressionless. But to the sallow man seated in this obscure

restaurant, it was plain that the dining Celestials had come here to converse in private. He had noted their

They were speaking freely now, and the listener understood their jargon. Pretending to be a chance stroller,

He learned from the conversation that they were Chinatown merchants; and while he clumsily fumbled with

chopsticks over a bowl of chop suey, he waited for a new trend in the discussion.

The Chinamen were paying no attention to him. He was apparently interested only in the chop suey. Hence

neither the speaker nor the listeners were aware that another watcher had arrived.

Peering through the corner of the front window, an unseen personage was watching the Chinamen as they

spoke, and also casting occasional glances in the direction of the sallowfaced American.

His form invisible against the wall outside the building, this being had become a specter of the night. Silent

and watchful, he was observing all that passed within the room, and his keen eyes spotted the fact that the

"You say, then," remarked one solemn Chinaman, in his native tongue, "that he has returned."

"I do not say that he has returned," replied the other. "I say only that which I have heard. There is talk about

"Kwa has long been expected. Each time that he came before, it was soon learned that he was here."

"Yes; and each time that Kwa departed, we heard no more of him until he returned."

The yellow faces peered soberly at each other. Then one Chinese merchant took up the thought that was

"Kwa is called the Living Joss. His power is great among those who believe in him. It is wise not to speak too

"The abode of Kwa is secret" the added statement came from the second Chinaman "and only those who

believe can see the face of Kwa. No one can name those who believe in Kwa, nor those who do not believe in

There was long silence. Not an expression appeared upon either yellow countenance. Yet the words, to one

KWA, the Living Joss! Was he a myth or a real dweller here in New York's Chinatown? A being reputed by

some to be almost a deity in human form, the followers of Kwa were a secret body who kept their beliefs to

These merchants, apparently close friends, had retired to seclusion before they dared bring up this

tremendous subject. Even by themselves, they spoke in cautious tones. Neither one could be sure whether or

not the other was a follower of Kwa. In Chinatown, adherence to a cause meant more than long friendship.

The merchants finished their meal. They left the restaurant still sober, and reserved. The sallowfaced

listener smiled. An American familiar with the ways of Orientals, he could understand the apprehensions of

For years, the powerful secret societies known as tongs had been a hidden influence in Chinatown, often

rising to the surface. But here was a power greater than that of any tong a group controlled by an unknown

No wonder these merchants were perturbed. A being such as Kwa, if his claims were genuine, would have a

superhuman power which he could direct against nonbelievers. On the contrary, Kwa, a pretender, could stir

up fanatical underlings to a fever pitch. He could undermine the tongs themselves and plunge them into new

The American pushed the remainder of his dish aside and strolled from the restaurant. He walked back

toward the center of Chinatown. He did not see the black form that detached itself from the side of the dark

Two Chinamen were talking at the door of a shop. They ceased as they saw a man stop to light a cigarette;

when they observed the sallow face of the American, they resumed their discourse, and the man caught a few

The sallowfaced man moved along. He glanced at his watch as he came into the light of a bright but narrow

street. He increased his gait to a swinging stride, but never ceased his alertness as he passed spots where

Again, he heard the spoken name of Kwa; later, as he picked a deserted side street on the outskirts of

Chinatown, he caught the mumbled tones of an Oriental who was uttering the same mysterious title.

THE district was agog. Kwa had returned. In some unknown abode, an insidious power dwelt. Who was this

The man who had heard, thought of the shadowy streets in Chinatown. Strange menaces existed there

factors which could not exist outside of that town which seemed like a patch of the Orient transplanted to

A mysterious being such as Kwa could not be found elsewhere in New York so the sallowfaced man

reflected. But in that opinion he was wrong. Had he glanced behind him as he strode along, coming from an

alleyway into a street beneath the elevated line, he might have glimpsed the sign of a phantom shape as

Out of the shadows of Chinatown had come a Living Shadow a weird, sinister shape which glided along in

exact speed with the military stride of the departing man. A splotch of blackness, long and silhouetted in the

That strange shape had come to Chinatown tonight. It had crossed the path of the prowling American. It was

the token of an unseen watcher in the night, one who had also learned the rumors that persisted concerning

The Shadow, master of darkness, had watched the lips of the speaking Chinese merchants. Unobserved, The

Shadow had heard the name Kwa uttered at the door of the obscure shop. Later, The Shadow had heard the

remarks of other Chinamen, speaking in their native tongue as they mentioned the name of the Living Joss.

Now, spectral in the darkness, The Shadow was trailing the American who had so cleverly intruded upon

Shadows still remained in Chinatown; but The Shadow had departed, and none knew of his arrival or his

FOUR men were gathered about a circular table. The room in which they were seated was a builtin sun

porch of a large mansion, a fact easily recognizable by the windows that flanked three sides. Behind drawn

shades, the quartet was holding a quiet discussion. A vacant chair, however, signified that the group expected

In the largest chair, the one which might well have constituted the head, was a weary, grayhaired man some

seventy years of age. His shoulders were bowed, his face was pale, but kindly. His thin hands rested upon the

The old man asked the question in a quavering voice as he looked at his companions.

"I hope not, Mr. Schofield," came a reply. "We will allow just a few minutes more; then we can proceed."

The old man nodded. At that moment, a servant entered the sun porch and addressed the elderly individual.

The reply did not come from the old man. It was made by a middleaged gentleman seated at his right the

same one who had made the previous remark. He evidently played the part of Schofield's spokesman.

All eyes turned toward the door. The middleaged gentleman arose and went in that direction. The door

opened, and a sallowfaced man entered and bowed to the group as he delivered a smile intended as a

"I am Westley Hartnett," said the middleaged man. "I am Barton Schofield's attorney. This, Doctor Zelka, is

He led the visitor to the head of the table, where the old gentleman reached up to shake hands. Hartnett turned

"Blaine Goodall," he said to Zelka. "He is the president of the Huxley Corporation."

Zelka received the handshake of a tall, squarejawed man who had the physique of an athlete.

The visitor clasped hands with a wiry individual whose teeth showed in a widelipped grin. David Moultrie's

Introductions completed, Westley Hartnett conducted Doctor Ward Zelka to the empty chair. Still standing,

the attorney looked about, as though suspicious of eavesdroppers. The drawn blinds reassured him. He

studied the members of this group, as though preparing for an important discussion.

All looked toward Hartnett. Blaine Goodall was thoughtful; David Moultrie grinning. While old Barton

Schofield still sat passively at the head of the table, Doctor Zelka drew a cigarette from his pocket and

NO one noticed an imperceptible motion of one window shade. Hands from the outer darkness had raised the

sash. Eyes were peering through a narrow crevice at the bottom of the blind. Unsuspected ears were listening

"Our discussion," began Hartnett, "involves the affairs of the Huxley Corporation. Mr. Goodall, as president

of that concern, approached my client, Mr. Barton Schofield, and requested this conference. Mr. Schofield

"This meeting, gentlemen, is actually a secret assemblage of the principal shareholders in Huxley Corporation

stock. I, therefore, go on record as expressing my disapproval of it at the outset. You may speak now, Mr.

Westley Hartnett took his chair beside Barton Schofield, and held a whispered conversation with his client.

Blaine Goodall, the corporation president, arose. Chewing his lips in nervous fashion, he addressed the other

"Mr. Hartnett is right," he said lamely. "This meeting is irregular, but I was induced to arrange it. The story is

simply this. In about three months from now, Amalgamated Enterprises will make a strong bid for the

controlling interest in Huxley Corporation. It will be possible, at that time, for a group of majority holders to

sell their stock at a price equivalent to what Amalgamated Enterprises would pay for the entire acquisition, if

"Amalgamated Enterprises has the impression that the controlling interest of Huxley Corporation is in the

hands of a small group headed by Mr. Barton Schofield. In fact, they are ready to believe that Mr. Schofield

himself has more than fifty per cent of the Huxley shares. Such, however, is not the case.

"While I was wondering about this matter, I was approached by David Moultrie" he indicated the

largemouthed man "who had already spoken to Doctor Zelka. Mr. Moultrie is a gentleman who deals in

corporation stocks. He stated that Doctor Zelka, like Mr. Schofield, held blocks of Huxley shares. He

"Mr. Schofield and Doctor Zelka will pool their interests. I am to keep silent on Huxley affairs while Mr.

Moultrie buys up loose shares. We will then have the controlling interest that we seek."

David Moultrie arose as Blaine Goodall ceased speaking. With his leering grin, this fellow followed up the

"Let me get to work," he suggested, "and I'll buy up Huxley shares for next to nothing. If Goodall here keeps

"In other words," interposed Hartnett, his eyes blazing, "you plan to manipulate Huxley stock to deceive the

"Yes!" asserted Goodall. "That's just what I can do. I can swing it for two million dollars' profit maybe

"One moment," ordered Hartnett, rising. "I have discussed this matter with Mr. Schofield. He is a man of

integrity, a retired banker, whose name has never been smirched by any stigma. Mr. Schofield is willing to go

into the open market, to buy Huxley shares on a legitimate basis, and thus to acquire a controlling interest.

But to follow the scheme that you suggest that would be an outrage! There is your answer, Moultrie!"

"Yes?" Moultrie grinned. "Try it! That's where I've got you blocked. Doctor Zelka, here, holds enough stock

to give me a start. Go out and try to beat me, Hartnett. I'll kill your game. I'll drive Huxley stock into the

ground. You'll be holding a stack of worthless shares. You'll never get control for Barton Schofield!"

For a moment, stock manipulator and attorney faced each other with challenging gazes. Old Barton Schofield

was perturbed. Blaine Goodall was trying to restore a friendly feeling. Doctor Ward Zelka calmly puffed his

SINGULARLY enough, it was Zelka who finally gained the floor after a series of epithets had been hurled by

both Hartnett and Moultrie. The sallowfaced man spoke in a raspy voice that brought attention in his

"Why speak of integrity?" he demanded. "It is not at stake. Here is the situation in a nutshell. One man, with

a good start, could quietly gain control of Huxley stock. I could be that man. Barton Schofield could be that

"However, David Moultrie seized upon the idea ahead of us. He needed one of us; he wisely decided to line

up both. He came to me with opportunity, which I accepted. I advise you, Mr. Schofield" Zelka was

"Hear that?" queried Moultrie, turning to Hartnett. "The doctor, here, is talking sense. I let Mr. Schofield in

on the game because I figured he would listen to reason. He could go after the idea alone. Sure, Schofield

could. So could Doctor Zelka. I could take a stab at it myself, starting from scratch. But the only wise way to

A silence; then Blaine Goodall took the floor. The president of the Huxley Corporation was nervous as he

"Can't we come to some agreement?" he questioned. "This places me in an embarrassing situation,

gentlemen. I, alone, am conversant with the facts. Unless something is done, I shall have to act in my official

capacity to make known to the public that Huxley Corporation is dealing with Amalgamated Enterprises."

"Make it known," ordered Westley, while old Barton Schofield delivered a weary nod of approval. "It will

rectify your present mistake, Goodall. You are dealing with two men of questionable reputation.

"Moultrie, here" the lawyer's tone was scathing "is a crooked stock manipulator. As for Doctor Zelka, I

have delved into his past. He is not a practicing physician in New York. He has no recognized status. Why?"

"A question?" asked Zelka, with narrowed eyes. "I can answer it, Mr. Hartnett. I am a man of some means. I

have chosen a life of travel in preference to the retired existence of a medical practitioner."

"Travel?" jeered Hartnett. "Yes. I know of that, Doctor Zelka. You have been in Europe, through the Orient,

even in South America for a time. There are some cities in fact, some countries which would not give you

"Quite so," agreed Zelka suavely, as he lighted another cigarette. "An American traveling abroad frequently

finds himself confronted by unfortunate circumstances which do him an injustice."

"Yes?" queried the lawyer. "Talk to Mr. Schofield about that, Doctor Zelka. My client, too, has traveled

extensively during his long and useful life, but he has never encountered any of those unavoidable situations

of which you speak. Integrity! You would do well to make it your watchword, Doctor."

It was David Moultrie who took up cudgels for the accused physician, but Doctor Zelka calmly waved the

"How soon," he asked, "will you be forced to make the announcement of which you speak?"

"Two weeks from tonight," returned Goodall. "That is the longest that I can wait."

"That will be sufficient," decided Zelka. "Let us part friends, gentlemen. We will give Mr. Hartnett a chance

to confer again with Mr. Schofield. Perhaps, with sober consideration, they will reverse their decision. If they

do, Mr. Hartnett can make the fact known to Mr. Goodall, who, in turn, can inform Moultrie and myself. Of

"I'll hold off the announcement indefinitely," agreed Goodall, "provided that I know the deal is going

through. But failure to get together throws me back to my duty to the Huxley Corporation."

The physician extended his hand as a token of no ill feeling toward Westley Hartnett. The lawyer accepted it.

"Sorry about the personalities, Doctor Zelka," he said. "But so far as the arrangement is concerned, I can tell

"Think it over," urged Zelka, shaking hands with old Barton Schofield. It was impossible to tell whether his

Following Zelka's example, David Moultrie shook hands all around. The two men left the room. Blaine

Goodall remarked that he must be leaving, also. Westley Hartnett summoned a servant; old Barton Schofield

arose wearily and started upstairs, leaning upon the attendant. The old banker always retired early in the

ONE window shade gave a feeble flutter as the sash beyond it was silently lowered. Outside the house, a

phantom figure moved strangely through the darkness. It traveled swiftly across the blackened lawn, and

reached a coupe that was parked on a secluded lane beside Barton Schofield's Long Island mansion.

Another coupe shot by the entrance of the lane. David Moultrie and Doctor Ward Zelka were departing in the

former's car. Zelka had come here by taxi; Moultrie was taking him back to the city.

The hidden coupe moved. It swung into the road, and its dim lights glimmered. Far behind, it took up the trail

A laugh sounded in the darkness of the following automobile. A sinister sound, that mirth caused a hollow

The Shadow, unseen, unknown, had listened well tonight. He had heard the schemes of two conniving men;

DOCTOR WARD ZELKA and David Moultrie were seated in a little booth at the side of Brindle's restaurant.

Over sandwiches and coffee, these thwarted stock manipulators were discussing the events at the home of

Barton Schofield. They had chosen Brindle's as their Broadway rendezvous, because each booth seemed to

Thus, as they talked, both men were sure that they could not be heard. In this, however, they were wrong.

Had they looked into the next booth, they would have seen a man who was listening to every word they said.

A calmfaced gentleman in evening dress was alone in that booth. He had entered wearing an overcoat, and

carrying a small bag, which he had deposited beside him when he removed his coat.

The bag lay between this man and the wall. From it, deft fingers had drawn a small microphone a miniature

device which he had thrust through a crevice between the seat and the wall. He had attached a small, clamped

The microphone, wedged into the range of the next booth, was picking up the conversation. With food before

him, the calmfaced man was listening in, thanks to the equipment in the bag beside him.

Who was this visitor to Brindle's? No one knew. His quiet entrance had attracted no attention. Yet there were

silkhat racketeers in that Broadway restaurant who would have trembled, had they known the true identity

The calm face of the visitor was masklike. Its expression was cold and inscrutable. Steady eyes gleamed from

either side of a hawkish nose. Even close inspection could not have revealed this inflexible countenance as an

The chance diner was The Shadow. The master, whose mighty presence was a threat to all gangdom, had

followed Zelka and Moultrie to this restaurant. Here, with the aid of a mechanical detector, he was listening

"I MADE a bull," David Moultrie was saying. "I should have left Barton Schofield out of the picture."

"You could hardly have done so," came Zelka's quiet response. "You had to talk to Goodall, to keep him

"Goodall has no foolish scruples," reminded Moultrie. "He might have kept his mouth shut."

"Goodall is a waverer," asserted Zelka. "He fluctuates between honesty and crookedness. Such men are

troublesome. Ethical conduct is something which one must either retain fully, or else disregard entirely."

"Which puts us out of luck. There's no chance of getting Barton Schofield with us now."

"I am not so sure of that." Zelka was speaking in a thoughtful tone. "I left the field open for new negotiations.

Barton Schofield, himself well, if he were younger, he would have been flat in his refusal to deal with us.

But he is close to a doddering state, completely swayed by Hartnett's opinion. That is where we have a

"With Hartnett?" Moultrie's tone was incredulous. "Didn't you hear him talk about integrity?"

"Bunk," said Zelka suavely. "Listen, Moultrie. Hartnett is, unfortunately, an honest man. He is also a lawyer.

"Few attorneys are troubled with deep consciences. They weigh all matters, and invariably make a decision in

favor of the stronger point. It is just like the case in the courtroom. The district attorney fights for a verdict of

guilty; the defending lawyer for acquittal. They can see no compromise even though such a course might be

"Who is Westley Hartnett? I shall tell you. He is an attorney hired to protect Barton Schofield's interests, now

that the old banker has retired from active life. Along with Schofield's financial affairs is his integrity.

"Hartnett may realize that one or the other must be sacrificed. He has resolved to favor integrity. Our sudden

parting, however, will make him think. He may reason as all lawyers do, that tangible affairs are in his

keeping. Suppose he gets the idea that we are going to knock the bottom out of Huxley stock, just to even

"I see," nodded Moultrie. "He may figure that his duty to Barton Schofield requires him to protect the value

"Exactly. If he salves his conscience, he will decide to let us go ahead. He will make sure that he can keep

"It is purely an opinion," remarked Zelka, as an afterthought. "It depends upon how important Huxley stock is

to Barton Schofield. Hartnett may stick to his guns. If so, we are sunk. It would be foolish to ruin the value of

"Old Schofield is the real trouble," snarled Moultrie. "Two weeks. Bah! If we had longer to wait, the old man

"Hartnett would be handling the estate," interposed Zelka, with an ugly smile. "If anybody ought to drop

dead, it's Hartnett. Schofield could be handled if he were forced to look after his own affairs for a while."

"The lineup is simple," declared Zelka. "Westley Hartnett is the chief obstacle. If he were eliminated, that

"No. Blaine Goodall. He is a great factor. If Hartnett went out of the picture, Goodall would still have his

"Until Barton Schofield could be forced to listen to reason. There would be the ideal way to handle the

situation. Eliminate Hartnett as Schofield's attorney. Block Goodall so he could not act. Handle Schofield so

"Hardly. That's why I suggest that we wait. Maybe Hartnett will change his opinion. There's no telling what

Doctor Zelka paused to puff upon his cigarette. David Moultrie watched the expression upon the sallow face.

"YOU and I," resumed Zelka thoughtfully, "we must keep apart. Attend to your stock deals and be very

"Yes and because of the others. Hartnett looked into our affairs. He may intend to investigate us further.

People may be watching us; and if we appear to have no more than a passing acquaintanceship, it may prove

"I" Zelka tapped his chest with his forefinger "simply happen to be a large holder of Huxley stock. You

came to me as a stranger. I accepted your proposal, and approved your plan. There is no reason why I should

"Right," agreed Moultrie. "That will have an effect on Hartnett on the others, too if they get any report on

our affairs. You thought my proposition was good. Why shouldn't old Barton Schofield grab it?"

Doctor Zelka smiled in recollection of the evening session which they had held at Schofield's. He was

"I have traveled much," he remarked. "I have been many places, Moultrie, and I have always had a penchant

for the unusual. It interested me when Hartnett began to drag up my past. Whatever he may have learned

"Very often. But I have a way about me, Moultrie. I can always avoid difficulties. I enjoy intrigue; and I have

engaged in it. But when it is necessary, I can generally manage to straighten my affairs.

"There were occasions when I encountered unexpected situations, and found it easier and more comfortable

to stage a prompt departure than to stay around and face more trouble. Those are the cases of which Hartnett

"They may have influenced him considerably," mused Moultrie. "He seemed to attach much significance to

"That was merely an excuse," asserted Zelka. "You saw how mildly I took his statements. Nevertheless, I

have not forgotten them. I am something of an Oriental, Moultrie. I always liked to mingle with the natives of

"I seldom forget an insult, and I usually find ways of retaliation particularly ways that prove beneficial to

A strange expression appeared upon Ward Zelka's face. The physician evidently meant what he had said. To

David Moultrie, however, this was a matter of minor consequence. The stock manipulator was still trying to

He shrugged his shoulders as he slid from the side of the booth and reached the center floor of the restaurant.

"Good night," was Moultrie's parting. "Let's hope you're right that something will intervene to change this

situation. I doubt, however, that Hartnett will alter his opinion. We can only hope for it."

WHEN David Moultrie had gone, the physician remained until he had finished his cigarette. Then he left the

Shortly after Ward Zelka's departure, the man in the next booth closed his suitcase and donned his overcoat.

He, too, departed from Brindle's, and followed Broadway until he reached a side street. There, he entered a

It was an hour later when Ward Zelka entered the small lobby of the uptown apartment house where he lived.

The physician looked in his mail box; then unlocked the front door and entered. He did not notice anything

But when the physician had gone, something occurred upon the very spot which he had left. A blotch upon

the tiled floor came into sudden motion. A tall shape seemed to grow from the very wall.

A whispered laugh brought weird echoes to that gloomy vestibule. The outer door opened; the mysterious

He The Shadow had heard the aftermath between Zelka and Moultrie. He knew the thoughts that were in

Chinatown Long Island uptown Manhattan. Were these connected with crime that might follow thwarted

THE following evening, Doctor Ward Zelka left his apartment house and strolled along the street toward the

nearest avenue. This side street was lined with apartment buildings, and, near the entrance of one, Zelka

The physician merely glanced at the stranger. He saw a sensuous, sophisticated face, and classified the man

The young man stopped in the apartment vestibule, glanced into a box which bore the name "Hugo Urvin";

then continued through until he reached the automatic elevator, which he took to the fourth floor.

Entering his apartment, Hugo Urvin threw his hat and coat aside, and slouched in an easychair. The place

was in disorder, for Urvin no longer had the services of a valet. Clothes were strewn here and there; the table

Even the young man's most prized possessions framed photographs of a dozen or more debutantes were

heaped upon a corner chair. Hugo Urvin was contemplating a swift move from this apartment, for which he

Ward Zelka's mental impression of the young man's characteristics were correct. Hugo Urvin, scion of a

wealthy family, had a wide range of social acquaintances. He possessed a smooth, ingratiating personality

that enabled him to retain his friends. Recently, however, he had displayed bad traits which were much to his

His continued winnings at the card table had ended; not through ill luck, but by a shortage of players who

cared to indulge in poker with him. Certain friends had called him to task because of his gross negligence in

On the ragged edge, Hugo Urvin was ready for anything; and there were people who suspected it. No finger

of direct accusation could be pointed toward him, but there were many acquaintances who would not have

Two desires filled Urvin's present mood. The first was money. The second was dependent upon the first:

namely, a way of getting money without sacrificing his threadbare social status. Easy funds, from a

THE telephone rang. Hugo Urvin frowned. He had managed to keep the telephone service connected, but it

had recently become a nuisance. Bill collectors and other debtors were using it more frequently than friends

For a few moments, Urvin was on the point of letting the telephone ring unanswered; then, the sight of the

stacked photos on the chair reminded him that evening was the time to expect calls from various girl friends.

There was momentary silence. Then came a crackly voice that spoke in a slow, hesitating tone, placing

The peculiar gloating of the tone sounded like a ridicule of the young man's present financial condition. Urvin

was about to bark an angry reply, when the voice added, more emphatically than before:

The voice chuckled insidiously. Urvin felt ill at ease. He was sure now that this could not possibly be a

practical joke at his expense. The speaker at the other end was advancing a definite offer.

"There is money for you," asserted the crackly voice, "if you will promise to obey."

"Continue to be alone," came the order. "Leave your apartment at once. Go directly to Fortyseventh Street

and Broadway. Stand upon the southwest corner, near the curb. Listen to the first person who speaks to you.

"Southwest corner," repeated Urvin, in a wondering tone. "Fortyseventh and Broadway the first person

"Wait." The voice was emphatic. "That is not all. Later, you will hear someone utter a certain word.

"The word" the crackling tones were very slow "is a name which you must not repeat. It is Kwa. Do not

Urvin caught himself on the point of repeating the name. Instead, he simply said:

The conversation was ended. Hugo Urvin scratched the back of his head, perplexed.

The telephone call might be a practical joke, but he did not think so. There was something convincing about

The young man pulled a few dollars from his pocket. This cash constituted his sole supply of funds. With a

ARRIVED at the appointed corner, Urvin lighted a cigarette and idled near the curb. Hundreds of people

were passing this busy point. Other men were standing about, and Urvin wondered how he would be picked

from the crowd. He decided that the person who had called must be someone who knew him.

Urvin frowned. He began to suspect a hoax some pretended friend near here to enjoy a laugh at his

Urvin threw his halffinished cigarette into the gutter beside the rear wheel of a heavy sightseeing bus. This

vehicle was adorned with Chinese lanterns, and it bore a large sign marked with the word, "Chinatown."

Urvin noted that the bus was half filled with passengers, and as he still stared, a uniformed barker approached

"Chinatown bus," announced the man. "Big trip for half a dollar. See Chinatown "

"Waiting for someone, bo?" questioned the barker. "Girl friend, maybe? Bring her along when she gets here.

Urvin swung his back on the fellow. The man annoyed him. The barker did not seem to mind the rebuff; he

simply walked a few paces and began to urge another man to take a trip to Chinatown.

Minutes went by. Urvin began to be impatient. He stared about him, looking for peering faces of

acquaintances who might be playing a joke on him. He glanced at the bus again, wondering if someone was

watching him from within. The bus was nearly filled, and the anxious barker was avoiding the growls of

"Come on, bo," the uniformed man was trying to persuade Urvin again. "One more passenger and we start.

Hugo Urvin was about to express his ire, when a sudden thought burst upon him. Angry words died upon his

Urvin looked at the man. He had never seen the fellow before, but he could tell that the chap was used to this

business. Nevertheless, this barker was the first man who had spoken to him; and his instructions were to do

Fishing in his vest pocket, Urvin produced a half dollar and handed it to the barker. The fellow gave him a

ticket, without even grinning. He was used to customers who changed their minds, no matter how hostile they

Hugo Urvin entered the bus and took the last remaining seat. A guide joined the chauffeur, and the big

Going down Broadway, Urvin gave no heed to the wisecracking palaver of the guide. He looked upon the

sightseeing business as a racket, so far as seeing anything of importance was concerned. He began to wonder

if he had added to his folly. If this were a hoax, he had certainly fallen heavy.

At the same time, the young man sensed that a clever brain might have contrived this meeting. The bus

barkers accosted every one who loitered at their corner. It was obvious that one of them would speak to him.

Hugo realized that the barker might well be an unwitting agent of the man with the cackled voice!

THE lumbering bus neared Chinatown. It came to a stop, and the guide told the passengers to alight. Headed

by the uniformed man, the group of some thirty persons moved into a narrow street, where they soon

Lingering near the rear of the cluster, Hugo Urvin listened for the word that had been given him over the

telephone. It kept ringing in his brain, more mysterious than before, now that Chinatown had been reached.

The guide turned into a narrow entry. He led the sightseers through a small door, and they entered an oddly

furnished room, which was evidently a shrine of Buddha, judging by the statues set along the wall.

A solemn Chinaman, dressed in Oriental robes, was introduced as Chon Look, the priest of the secret temple.

In English, Chon Look explained the purpose of wishing sticks, of paper talismans, of other objects used by

Reaching the door, Chon Look extended his hand and mumbled Chinese words as he bowed. Most of the

departing visitors laughed as they followed the guide, and heard the strange lingo of the Buddhist who kept

But as Hugo Urvin approached, he heard a single word which the bowing Chinaman introduced at the end of

Urvin hesitated; then stopped as other sightseers went on by him. He watched the lips of Chon Look, and

Moving away from the last of the throng, Hugo Urvin stopped to examine the wishing sticks which had been

shown to the visitors. Again, he heard the name of Kwa. When he looked around, all the bus passengers had

Hugo Urvin was alone, with the solemnfaced Chinaman named Chon Look. There was something fantastic

about the man's appearance now, as he stood alone, in his Buddhist robes, blinking solemnly at the only

The young man nodded. He remembered the admonition not to repeat the name. His silence seemed to be

The robed Chinaman took Urvin by the elbow, and led him to the center of the room. The lights went out

with unexpected suddenness. In the midst of jetblack darkness, Urvin was swung around by the Chinaman's

Then, before he had recovered from a momentary dizziness, they were walking forward again. To Hugo

Urvin's surprise, they encountered no solid wall. Instead, they were moving through a pitchblack passage

Strange adventure had come to Hugo Urvin. Here, in a show place of Chinatown, a spot apparently designed

merely to attract gawking sightseers, he was being conducted to the meeting promised by a mysterious

voice which had crackled through the receiver of the telephone in his apartment.

Hugo Urvin did not know; but he was sure now that this could be no hoax. Somewhere, at the end of this

The word was a name so the voice had said. Now, Hugo Urvin sensed that it was Kwa himself who must

have spoken; and at the end of this passage he would meet the singular being who bore that strange title!

THE passage ended after a series of devious twists and turns. The finish was abrupt. Chon Look's tightening

grasp prevented Hugo Urvin from bumping into a solid barrier that blocked farther progress.

Something clicked. A panel rose like a curtain. Light from a room beyond was the indication of the panel.

The barrier, itself, was invisible; but the illumination rose slowly from the floor, and Chon Look conducted

the American into an oddly shaped chamber which was hung with gorgeous tapestries.

The only article of furniture was a huge taboret, posted near the further wall. In front and on either side were

incense burners three in all from which slow wreathes of smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, to

Hugo Urvin noted that the legs of the taboret were open. The top of the object was heavy, and appeared

almost as a throne. The young man found himself standing alone. Chon Look had retired to a corner of the

Looking for the Chinaman, Urvin saw first that the panel through which they had entered was now closed;

then he observed that Chon Look had picked up a heavy brass gong and a hammer. Approaching the large

taboret, Chon Look motioned in that direction with the hammer. Then, as Hugo watched, the Buddhist struck

the gong. The effect was most surprising. No clang occurred, although Urvin seemed to sense the

Before Urvin had recovered from his momentary amazement, another phenomenon took place. As in

response to the noiseless stroke of wood against brass, each incense burner delivered a simultaneous puff.

Sudden clouds of smoke shot upward, forming a heavy white veil around the taboret. When the smoke was

A figure had appeared upon the taboret. A seated, crosslegged form clad in a goldthreaded Oriental jacket,

HUGO URVIN was staring at a venomous face. It was the most evil visage that he had ever seen. Bulging

eyes, a twisted nose, thick, puckered lips, and sharp, jutting teeth; these were the features of Kwa's

Raising a scrawny, longnailed hand, the hideous monster gesticulated toward Chon Look. The Buddhist

Hugo Urvin thought he had merely gone to replace the gong in the corner; but when the young man looked

behind, he noted that Chon Look was gone. The Chinaman must have passed through the panel and let it

Nervously, Urvin turned to face Kwa. He felt an irrepressible awe of this fiendish being. This feeling was

increased when the monster uttered a crackling chuckle the same sound that Urvin had heard across the

"I am Kwa," announced the robed occupant of the odd throne. "I am the one who summoned you, Hugo

The incense burners were curling their thin smoke upward. They wreathed the demon with streaks of

whiteness. The hideousness of Kwa became even more impressive; yet Hugo Urvin managed to preserve his

He had been brought here for a purpose ostensibly to his advantage. Despite the gloating meanness of Kwa's

"I summoned you," continued Kwa, in his peculiarly accented voice, "because I need you. In return I offer

"Money," repeated Kwa, with emphasis. "You shall have it if you promise to do my bidding."

Again, Urvin nodded. He was speechless. He realized, also, that he might commit himself by too definite an

answer before he had learned what Kwa desired. The nod could be taken either as understanding or as

Kwa seemed to divine the young man's thoughts. The monster chuckled and spoke again, making his next

"Your duties," he crackled, "will be limited to those which you can easily perform. So long as you preserve

the secrecy which I demand, there will be no danger from outside. So long as you do not fail to do my

"I am Kwa. I am the one whom my followers call the Living Joss. They look upon me as a strange being a

The words were uttered with an impressive confidence that made Hugo Urvin shudder. The strange passage

to this place; the soundless gong; the arrival of Kwa amid a puff of incense smoke; these were manifestations

"The hands of Kwa" the creature extended his longnailed claws "stretch everywhere. They reach out

from this abode to pluck whatever Kwa may need. They can reach you, now that you belong to Kwa.

"But you need not fear, so long as you obey. You will not need to see the face of Kwa again; yet you will

have new dealings with the one whom you first met Chon Look. To you, he will give objects wrapped in

With a sweeping gesture, Kwa drew a piece of layered rice paper from his jacket and held it between his

claws. He made a peeling motion; the paper separated into two sheets, which Kwa scanned as though reading

"You will come as you did tonight," added Kwa, "whenever you have word to leave; whenever you have

orders to receive. You need not speak to Chon Look. He will understand, and he will talk. And never" the

crackling voice became insidious in tone "repeat the name of Kwa. You are not one who can safely

The horrible creature waved its arms. Again, the incense burners puffed. Smoke, like a steam jet, covered the

HUGO URVIN stood in profound amazement. While he was rooted to the spot, he heard a sound behind him.

He turned swiftly to face Chon Look, who had returned. The Buddhist pointed to an open panel. Urvin

They reached the blackness of the shrine, after an untraceable route. Urvin felt himself spun around; the lights

came on, and he was back in the room from which he had started, with no idea of where the passage had

Chon Look pointed to the corner where the wishing sticks were lying. Urvin moved in that direction. Chon

Look opened a door. The Chinese girls entered, and a few minutes later a crowd of sightseers flocked in,

Hugo Urvin listened to Chon Look's monotonous lecture. At a motion from the Chinaman, he joined the

departing throng after the talk had been completed. The girls were by the door now, handing little packages to

Chon Look. The guide was explaining that the keeper of the shrine sometimes gave gifts to his patrons. Urvin

Outside, the guide held the crowd until one of the girls appeared to collect fifty cents from each visitor. The

guide explained that this was necessary to support the shrine. Several sightseers growled their disapproval,

but the collection went on, while the guide reminded them that he had mentioned that the temple trip cost

Riding back to upper Broadway, Hugo Urvin still clutched the package in his pocket. He went to his

apartment after he alighted from the bus, and hastily opened the parcel. Within the paper wrapping, he

The young man pocketed the money with a laugh. This trip had proven profitable. He hoped that it was but

the forerunner of many more. There was only one catch the duty that Kwa might have imposed upon him.

The gift box in the package contained a little desk piece of the three wise monkeys. Urvin smiled as he laid it

aside. He took the paper wrapping and spread it at the edge. It peeled into two pieces. One bore writing.

Urvin's smile continued as he read the instructions. A very simple duty had been imposed upon him; one that

Pocketing two hundred and fifty dollars, Urvin felt that he was on the road to easy money. He walked around

the room in pleased fashion. He happened to glance at the table where he had placed the note from Kwa; and

while he was wondering whether to destroy or keep the message, the paper took care of itself.

Puff! The sheet that held the writing broke forth with a flash of flame. As Urvin stepped back from the light,

Flash paper Urvin had seen it work before. But always, he had seen it ignited. This sheet had evidently

been treated with a chemical that worked automatically after one portion of the peeled paper had been pulled

Whatever the explanation might be, the fiery disappearance of the message made Urvin remember the strange

The young man forced a laugh when he recalled Kwa's statement that he, Kwa, was a Living Joss.

Nevertheless, Urvin could not forget the horror of that scene in the hidden room reaches from the Buddhist

As he left the apartment to test the spending power of the first fiftydollar bill, Urvin found the words of

All would be well if he obeyed. There were reasons to obey the will of Kwa. One was the fiendishness of

the strange creature himself; the other was the crinkle of the fiftydollar bills which Urvin could feel in his

There was no question in the young man's mind. Kwa had chosen well. He had found an unscrupulous

THE hidden temple was not long deserted after Hugo Urvin had left it. As soon as the sightseers had gone,

Chon Look went to one side of the shrine and pressed his hand against the side of a fiveshelved rack which

The rack moved upward to reveal a gaping hole in the wall. Chon Look entered the passage, and the rack

At the same time, a similar scene was taking place in another part of Chinatown, nearly a block away from

the Buddhist shrine. A Chinese merchant, whose little shop bore the name of Soy Foon, along with Chinese

Soy Foon the merchant was attired in his native costume approached a rack which resembled the one in

the Buddhist shrine. He performed the same action that Chon Look had exerted. The rack raised upward with

its load of curios; Soy Foon entered an open passage, and the barrier slid down in back of him.

When he came to a final barrier, Soy Foon pressed a catch, and a panel arose to admit him to Kwa's temple.

Chon Look was already there. The Buddhist had arrived by a different entrance than the one used by the

merchant. Thus there were two passages to the hidden temple, starting from places a block apart.

Chon Look picked up the gong and gave it a soundless stroke. Both Chinamen blinked solemnly toward the

heavy taboret. A terrific puff of smoke came from the burners. When it cleared away, the glaring figure of

Kwa was in view. The Chinamen bowed to this creature, whom they hailed as a Living Joss.

Kwa was the first to speak. His words were crackling and slowly accented, but now they came in the Chinese

tongue. He questioned these men who came to serve him, and they made their replies.

"My men are prepared, great Kwa," declared Soy Foon. "They are ready to do the bidding of Kwa. I have

spoken with them tonight; with Koy Shan, the Mighty; with Chun Shi, the Crafty."

Delight gleamed upon the hideous face of Kwa. The protruding teeth that extended from the puffy, snarling

"It is well," stated Kwa. "To you, Chon Look, belongs one duty; to you, Soy Foon, another. Those of the

other race" it was plain that he referred to Americans "shall come to you, Chon Look. Those of our race"

both listeners bowed, as though accepting Kwa as a Chinese "shall come to you, Soy Foon.

"Guard well the gates" Kwa laughed scornfully "for although Kwa needs no guarding, he is but seldom in

The Living Joss ceased speaking. His wild, glaring eyes stared at one Celestial; then at the other. Chon Look

and Soy Foon stood in apparent awe. While they watched, a puff of smoke came from the incense burners.

The atmosphere seemed to absorb these jets; its heavy fragrance had become almost sickening, but the

Chinese appeared used to it. Without another word, each man turned. Chon Look left by one entrance; Soy

BACK in his shrine, Chon Look stood pondering while he awaited the arrival of another crowd of tourists.

Chon Look had fared well since he had become a follower of Kwa. Once an obscure merchant in Chinatown,

he had mysteriously received funds with which to establish his shrine as one gate to Kwa's hidden temple.

The shrine was hardly more than a fake; nevertheless, Chon Look had not been criticized for opening it. In

fact, other Chinese admired his enterprise. American sightseers were considered open game in parts of

Chinatown, and Chon Look, by a tieup with the bus owners, soon had a going enterprise.

Backed by funds, he was in a position to defy wouldbe competitors. It was generally believed that Chon

Look had been smart enough to turn the earnings from his old shop into this profitable business. Many

Chinese would have been surprised had they known the true source of Chon Look's funds.

The artificial Buddhist shrine formed the best possible blind for the hidden temple of Kwa. With a constant

stream of sightseers pouring into it, Chon Look had no need for other revenue. Hence, the police who

Chon Look knew this. His bland face indicated the fact after his return from Kwa's inner temple. Moreover,

he understood Kwa's wisdom in using this shrine as a place for contact with Americans.

The young man who had come here tonight had merely been an odd member of a bus party seeing

Chinatown. That same man could come again and yet again always in the same capacity!

WHILE Chon Look was quietly engaged in his pretended shrine, Soy Foon was also contemplative. The

Chinese merchant was in the rear room of his shop; and there he, too, was considering the power of Kwa.

Soy Foon was conducting a legitimate business. In every way, he did his utmost to keep his shop in proper

For Soy Foon had a more dangerous work than Chon Look. The front of his shop was the blind. The rear was

Like Chon Look, Soy Foon stayed within beck and call of Kwa. An electric light upon the wall of Soy Foon's

shop served as the signal. When that light glimmered, it meant that Kwa demanded an interview. Such a light,

At present, Soy Foon's light was extinguished. That was because Kwa no longer needed him tonight. The

inner temple was empty. Kwa had gone. But others were coming here, to this back room of the shop and

even while Soy Foon waited, a light tapping marked the arrival of those whom he expected.

The merchant opened a rear door. Two yellowfaced men entered the dim light of the little room. Both were

dressed in American clothes, and might easily have concealed their Chinese identity by keeping in the

These men formed a remarkable contrast. One was tall, heavybuilt, and stalwart a giant when compared

with Chinese of average stature. The other was a short, wiry creature of scarcely more than dwarfish

The huge man had a flat, expressionless face that bore several wide, reddish scars. These were the marks

from tong battles in which he had participated. His latent strength was apparent in his actions.

Soy Foon gazed at him with a pleased grin. This fellow was well fitted to serve Kwa. For the powerful

Chinaman was one who could summon other henchmen of his own. He was known as Koy Shan, the Mighty.

Soy Foon's almond eyes turned toward the dwarfish man who accompanied Koy Shan. Here, Soy Foon

observed a shrewd, leering face a countenance that betokened both stealth and swiftness.

The lightness of the little man's body was emphasized by the greater proportions of his arms and legs. He

Here, too, was one who would do well for Kwa. This distorted creature was the one whom Soy Foon had

The Chinese merchant faced this pair of ruffians, and began to speak in singsong lingo. His words brought

"Kwa has spoken." Such was the gist of Soy Foon's talk. "He states that the time is here. Each of you must

serve. Great work lies before you. When your tasks have been accomplished, you will receive the rewards of

"Where might is needed," continued Soy Foon, "Koy Shan will be the one to serve great Kwa. Where craft is

required, Chun Shi will perform the duty. That is all. Each may return at the hour which I have appointed.

The evilfaced Chinamen bowed. They did not repeat the name of Kwa. That privilege belonged only to one

Both Koy Shan and Chun Shi hoped that their reward would be promotion to the inner group those

members of the secret band of followers who were allowed to speak with Kwa himself.

Soy Foon returned the bow. Koy Shan and Chun Shi departed. The merchant was alone. A slow smile

Like Chon Look, the Buddhist, Soy Foon, the merchant, was sure that he was worthy of the confidence given

Koy Shan and Chun Shi had their orders. Hugo Urvin, too, had his instructions. Kwa was about to strike

WESTLEY HARTNETT was seated in the living room of his apartment. The lawyer was at work upon a

report which he had promised to prepare for Barton Schofield. This report concerned the condition of the

Doctor Ward Zelka had spoken wisely when he had remarked to David Moultrie that Hartnett might

reconsider his opinion. Here, on this evening, the attorney was studying the possible exigencies that might

Westley Hartnett had been sincere when he had spoken of Barton Schofield's integrity. The lawyer was a man

well suited to the trust which the retired banker had bestowed upon him. Nevertheless, Hartnett was doing

exactly what Zelka had predicted. He was balancing integrity against financial interests.

The lawyer continued his methodical work with the papers before him. Suddenly, he smacked his fist upon

the documents and seized the telephone. He dialed a number; when the reply came, he asked to speak to

The old man's voice came over the wire. Hartnett began with an apology for his call at this late hour. It was

only nine o'clock, but that was past Schofield's usual bedtime. When the banker's weary voice had responded

"This Huxley case," he declared. "There'll be money lost if you stay out, Mr. Schofield. I've been worrying

about it worrying a great deal. Nevertheless, I still favor our stand. Shall we make it final?"

The lawyer listened intently. His face glowed as he received commending words from Barton Schofield.

When the call was ended, Westley Hartnett arose and stood proudly beside his desk.

He was glad that he had stood by his first decision. Let the crooked manipulator and the stockholding

physician do what they pleased. Westley Hartnett, as Schofield's attorney, could never agree to participate in

The lawyer admired Barton Schofield. The old banker could easily have acquired a million dollars as his

share of the unearned profits. Moultrie and Zelka would gladly have granted him that amount. But, with

Moreover, he was willing to sacrifice his present holdings in Huxley shares, should Moultrie, in spirit of

It was final. The lawyer and his important client saw eye to eye in this important matter. Schofield's support

had completely ended all indecision on Hartnett's part. The old man had spoken with a firmness that seemed a

THE telephone rang. Hartnett answered it. The call was from the lobby. The doorman announced that a

A perplexed frown appeared upon the lawyer's face. He said that the visitor could come up; but after he had

When Urvin appeared, the lawyer greeted him with a quizzical expression. Urvin smiled as he extended his

Hartnett nodded and waved the visitor to a chair. The lawyer sat down beside the desk, where he had dropped

"Hope I haven't disturbed you," began Urvin affably. "I called your office this afternoon but you had gone.

I wanted to ask you about some legal matters. You are the one attorney whom I know among my friends."

"We have met," returned Hartnett. "Our meetings, however, can scarcely be termed an acquaintanceship."

"That is true," smiled Urvin. "We have usually seen each other at the Union Club. But the real reason why I

chose to call upon you tonight was because of our meeting at the home of Barton Schofield."

"At one of Maxine Schofield's parties," reminded Urvin. "She mentioned that you were her grandfather's

Hartnett recalled the incident. Maxine, twentyyearold granddaughter of Barton Schofield, entertained

"I am going out there tomorrow night," continued Urvin. "Perhaps I may meet you again."

"Possibly," said Hartnett. "I shall probably be there early in the evening. I was talking to Mr. Schofield over

"The purpose of my call," declared Urvin, changing the subject, "is in regard to my own affairs. I have just

passed through a period of financial difficulty, which is now ended. I have managed to readjust my income to

"However, I let matters slide very badly. The result is that I am being dunned for certain bills which I have

already paid. I have been gathering proof of such payment canceled checks and letters but I hardly know

"It occurred to me that you could handle the matter for me. I would like to meet you at your office; and the

whole thing has been worrying me so much that I thought this call would enable me to make an early

"Hardly tomorrow," mused Hartnett. "The day after, perhaps. Call the office day after tomorrow, Urvin. Will

Hugo Urvin became thoughtful. He arose restlessly from his chair and strolled over by the window, where he

looked down into the gloom of a courtyard while he stroked his chin. He finally turned to the lawyer and

"Day after tomorrow," he agreed. "Of course, I could come here late tomorrow night and leave my papers

"I shall be here," returned Hartnett quietly. "In fact, I intend to come directly to this apartment after I leave

Hugo Urvin nodded as he heard the finality of the lawyer's tone. Then, changing his worriment to affability,

"Nice diggings you have here," he remarked. "Are you living all alone, Mr. Hartnett?"

"My wife is away," explained the lawyer. "I keep no servants. She will be back within a few days; in the

meantime, I go out for my meals. I am merely sleeping here except for some evening work at the desk."

Urvin shook hands and departed. Hartnett smiled as he sat down at his desk. He was used to troublesome

clients like this one. Urvin, with his petty affairs, had seemed more worried than some big business men for

An evening call emphasis on the importance of an appointment then the result would be some trifling

Such cases annoyed Westley Hartnett, especially when someone whom he did not like was concerned. The

lawyer had little use for Hugo Urvin, for he knew the fellow to be a spendthrift and an idler.

OUTSIDE, Hugo Urvin was strolling up Broadway, singing to himself. He had done good work tonight. He

was sure that Westley Hartnett had not divined the real purpose of his visit. The crux had been when Urvin

As he walked along, Urvin was mumbling certain details which he had noticed. Hartnett's window was the

fifth in from the southeast corner of the courtyard. It was on the ninth floor. Six windows away, around the

turn, was the end of a short hall. Moreover, a narrow ledge protruded a few feet beneath the rows of

Near Fortyseventh and Broadway, Hugo Urvin sighted a Chinatown bus. He approached the barker and paid

the man fifty cents. He received his ticket, and found a single seat near the rear of the big car. There, he jotted

down what he had noted at Hartnett's. He folded his message into a tiny wad, and inserted it in an envelope

Pulling a newspaper from his pocket, Urvin began to read by the light that came from the illuminated corner.

A bustle finally told him that the bus was ready to start. Men were taking down the sign and the Chinese

Hugo Urvin smiled. Soon he would be in the Buddhist shrine. There, by the wishing sticks, he would secretly

drop his tiny envelope. Going out, he hoped, he would remove a wrapped gift from solemnfaced Chon Look

Urvin's smile broadened. He could already feel the crinkle of crisp new currency. Tonight's information was

exactly what he had been sent to learn. He had every right to expect new funds for his faithfulness to Kwa!

The bus rolled down Broadway. Time seemed long to Hugo Urvin. The patter of the facetious guide, as he

At last the bus reached the borders of Chinatown. The passengers alighted and were led toward the glaring

Hugo Urvin, lagging at the rear of the crowd, noted Chinamen standing at the doors of their shops. Chancing

to glance along the sidewalk, he noted a peculiar silhouette that lay there. Looking upward, he observed a

solemnfaced Chinaman in American clothes, who was standing near the doorway of a little store.

There was something uncanny about the fellow's face. Urvin could not forget the peculiar hawkish

countenance. Looking back over his shoulder, he still saw the Chinaman staring straight ahead. The blotch

Hugo Urvin could not forget the incident, even when the party neared the Buddhist shrine. There was a

reason why the young man should be troubled. Hugo Urvin was now the accomplice of a criminal. A tool of

That sinister Chinaman was none other than The Shadow. Here, in Chinatown, the superman had adopted an

Yet in his quest for the Living Joss, The Shadow, master though he was, had engaged with a brain of

consummate cunning. Before his very eyes, Hugo Urvin had passed as one of a group of sightseers.

Well had Kwa planned. Seeking to reach beyond the confines of the Chinese district, he had smuggled in an

aid so ingeniously that even The Shadow had not, as yet, detected the artful ruse!

WESTLEY HARTNETT and Barton Schofield were seated on the sun porch of the old banker's home. The

strains of music came through the halfopened door that led into the main portion of the house.

"Maxine enjoys these parties that she gives," remarked Hartnett. "Doesn't the noise ever disturb you after you

"Seldom," responded Schofield, with his weary tone. "My room is isolated upstairs. I am entirely alone, and

The mention of the old man's habit of retiring early seemed to have an immediate effect. Barton Schofield

The lawyer helped his client through the door. A servant came forward and assisted Barton Schofield in his

labored progress toward the staircase. Westley Hartnett strolled into a large room where a dance had just

Maxine Schofield spied the attorney. She came over to greet him with a smile. Clasping Hartnett's hand, she

"I want you to meet Mr. Vincent," said the girl. "He is a new friend of mine. I met him through Lamont

Hartnett raised his eyebrows as he heard these words. Lamont Cranston, globetrotting millionaire, was a

man highly recognized by New York society; and any friend of his would be quickly invited and welcomed

Westley Hartnett shook hands with a cleancut young chap, and began a conversation. The lawyer usually

took little interest in the young men who came to Maxine Schofield's parties, but Harry Vincent impressed

"Yes," replied the young man. "In fact, we were lunching together at the Ritz when he introduced me to Miss

"Quite a character," remarked Hartnett. "Cranston is a most unusual man. He travels everywhere coming

and going as he chooses. In fact, I thought that he was abroad at present. The last I heard, he had set out to

"I have known Cranston for a long while," returned Harry. "He has a way of talking about his travels that

completely disregards the time element. He told me one story about Tibet that might have happened a month

"I have met Cranston at the Cobalt Club," nodded Hartnett. "I have heard him tell of his travels, and have

The two men were strolling away from the large room as they talked. Hartnett, interested in the conversation,

Suddenly finding that they had left the range of the dancers, Hartnett suggested that they occupy the sun

The middleaged lawyer and his young friend became involved in various discussions as they puffed at their

perfectos in the seclusion of the porch. Time drifted rapidly, and Hartnett continued to enjoy the new

He wondered why Harry Vincent, a man who seemed practicalminded, had bothered to come to so trivial a

Westley Hartnett would have been amazed had he known the answer. Harry Vincent was here for one special

HARRY VINCENT was an agent of that remarkable personage known as The Shadow. He had been

introduced to Maxine Schofield, so that he could act as secret protector to either the lawyer or the old banker.

In a sense, Harry's duty was thus a double one, but he had been instructed to concentrate upon Hartnett unless

Harry's introduction to Maxine Schofield had been well contrived. The personality of Lamont Cranston,

globetrotting millionaire, who kept a permanent home in New Jersey, was one which The Shadow himself

frequently adopted. Thus, The Shadow, as Cranston, had invited Harry to lunch at the Ritz where Maxine

Yet Harry, himself, did not know that it was his mysterious chief who had carried through the actual

introduction. He knew that there must be some connection between Cranston and The Shadow, but he had

accepted the famous millionaire purely as another confidential agent not as The Shadow himself.

Tonight, Harry intended to remain at this mansion until Westley Hartnett made his departure. Then he was to

follow the lawyer, unless something should command him to remain. The Shadow had placed reliance in

The talk turned to legal matters. Smoothly, Harry gained Hartnett's interest so effectively that the lawyer

expressed a desire to meet him frequently. This was important progress for Harry Vincent. It meant that he

"Stop in and see me," urged Hartnett. "Any time at the office or the apartment. I'm batching it while my

wife is away. There's plenty of room if you want to stay overnight. Frankly" Hartnett smiled as he puffed

his cigar "it is unusual to meet someone of your intelligence at one of these parties. I am a man with few

"Now, there" Hartnett pointed through the door toward a young man who was donning his hat and coat,

about to leave "is one whom I distinctly do not like. He is typical of the idling, worthless class of social

Hugo Urvin was the one whom the lawyer indicated. Maxine Schofield was saying good night to the parting

"I wondered what became of you," exclaimed Maxine. "I don't mind Mr. Hartnett running away, because he

doesn't like to dance. But I can't excuse you, Mr. Vincent. Come alone you will have this dance with me."

Harry nodded to Hartnett and went with the girl to join the other guests. At the end of the dance, he managed

to return to the sun porch. As he neared the open door, he noted Hartnett drowsily holding his cigar. Then

BEYOND the lawyer, peering through the pane of an unshaded window, was the most hideous face that

Harry Vincent had ever seen. Glaring, gloating, with bulging eyes and extended teeth, it was the countenance

A face of evil, it hung there like an insidious menace, a mass of grotesque yellow that seemed too horrible to

Harry Vincent waited, making no move to betray his arrival. While he watched, the face melted away as it

withdrew into the outer darkness. Then Harry walked boldly into the sun porch. His appearance aroused

"Hello, Vincent," said the lawyer. "I was half asleep. Think I'll have to be running into the city. Finish the

"I'll be back," remarked Harry. "I have a telephone call to make. I'll see you before you leave, Mr. Hartnett."

Harry found the telephone beside an obscure hall closet. He called a number, and a low voice responded.

It was the voice of The Shadow's secret contact man. Burbank was always available to active agents such as

"Someone watching Hartnett," informed Harry, as he glanced about to make sure that no listeners were close

Harry hung up the receiver and waited. Several minutes went by. The bell began to ring, and Harry pounced

upon the receiver so quickly that he was sure no one else could have heard the call.

"Burbank," came the quiet reply. "Hold Hartnett. Watch for the yellow face. Trace it if possible."

Harry hung up. He knew what this meant. The Shadow would be here with all possible speed. By keeping

But when Harry reached the sun porch, he found that the lawyer was no longer there. During the interim of

HURRYING past the dance room, Harry reached the front door and stepped out onto a veranda. There was a

long walk to a curving drive; at the end, Harry saw a coupe just about to pull away.

Orders were to hold Hartnett; that could not be done now. The only course was to follow the lawyer into the

Harry's own coupe was out in the same drive. But as the young man watched the moving vehicle, his eyes

suddenly noticed a bush that was just within the glare of Hartnett's headlights.

Crouched behind the clump of shrubbery, discernible by Harry, but concealed from Hartnett's view, was a

grotesque figure that was watching the departure of the lawyer. As the rays of light revealed the ugly shape,

A gruesome, yellow countenance was directing its fiendish gaze toward the moving car. Slowly rising, the

The car shot ahead; the lights were gone; but in a dull glow that stretched from the illuminated windows of

Barton Schofield's mansion, Harry could still see the outline of the insidious creature.

Silently, Harry watched. This was a dilemma. He had two duties now; to watch Hartnett; to spy upon this

nocturnal visitor. Had he not seen the huddled figure, Harry would have traveled in the lawyer's wake. Now,

with what appeared to be an insidious enemy still in view, Harry decided to remain. He must be here to guide

The Shadow. Westley Hartnett? Harry Vincent felt qualms; then decided that the lawyer would surely be

safe. Hartnett had gone; but the menacing creature had not. Danger, Harry felt, was here.

He thought of Barton Schofield, and kept close vigil on the bush where the figure still crouched. If the

creature started toward the house, a warning might prove necessary. Minutes passed while Harry watched.

Straining his eyes, Harry suddenly detected that the monster was in motion. The figure became a long shape

that sprang in apelike fashion as it left the bush. Bounding across the lawn, skirting the side of the house, it

Was this the time for action? Harry hesitated. He waited a few minutes more, hoping that the creature might

reappear. Then, in alarm, he turned to enter the house. Something gripped his arm; Harry repressed a startled

gasp as he turned to face two glowing eyes that shone from the darkness which enshrouded this veranda.

SELDOM did Harry meet his mysterious master. This incident was a flashback to the night when Harry had

entered The Shadow's service. Then, a black figure had emerged from darkness to grip Harry just as the

A deluge of memories swept through Harry's excited mind; they ended when he heard a single word uttered

In a hushed tone, Harry quickly told what he had seen. The Shadow answered in another single word:

With that, the blackgarbed phantom was gone. So swift and silent was the departure, that Harry could not

It was several minutes before Harry Vincent again felt the firm grasp upon his arm. This time, without

"Your hat. Your coat. Drive your car to the lane beyond the lawn. Park without lights, beneath a tree."

Again, the figure of The Shadow faded away. Harry went back into the house, obtained his hat and coat, and

told the servant to inform Miss Schofield that he had been forced to leave to keep an unexpected

He hurried to his coupe, and drove to the appointed spot. Hardly had he parked his car and extinguished the

lights before the door of the coupe had opened, and a firm hand was drawing him from the car.

Reaching the fringe of the lawn, Harry heard the voice of The Shadow close beside his ear. The master of

darkness was pointing out a special window that showed plainly against the gray stone of the house a

"Barton Schofield's room," carried The Shadow's uncanny whisper. "I was there. All is well at present. The

window is the only way of entrance. The door beyond is locked. Keep watch for any intruder. Act if

The words ended almost in a tone of mockery. Strange, whispered echoes remained in Harry's ear. Before the

A car pulled away from a spot farther up the lane. Harry knew the meaning. The Shadow had departed on

some mission. Perhaps he was going to cover Westley Hartnett while Harry remained on guard here.

Minutes went by; still Harry watched. No sign occurred. Between the time when Harry had last seen it, and

the moment when The Shadow had arrived, that evil creature with the yellow face had made a quick and

Yellow face! What menace did it carry? Was it the countenance of some superfiend that threatened the lives

Harry sensed that the demonish being might still be here, ready to attack a weary old man, asleep in an

He, Harry Vincent, was the only person who could protect Barton Schofield from the threat, should it appear

again. That window would be easily accessible to the springing, apish figure that Harry had seen upon the

Keyed to the importance of his duty, Harry Vincent waited, his hand upon the cold steel of an automatic

One car had driven from the drive, just after the departure of The Shadow. Another left; other guests departed

WHILE strange episodes were taking place at Barton Schofield's mansion, Hugo Urvin had reached the

Union Club in Manhattan. The young man felt a keen satisfaction as he entered the portals of this exclusive

His second visit to Chinatown had been made last night. There, in the Buddhist shrine, he had delivered his

The package had contained five bank notes wrapped around a souvenir tray made of brass. This time,

however, the bills were of double value one hundred dollars each. Between the peeled sheets of the

More money! That seemed to be the promise. For tonight, Urvin had another mission to perform in the

service of Kwa. He had left Schofield's early in the evening, in order to reach the Union Club in time.

Strolling through the lounge room, Urvin spied the man whom he sought. This was Blaine Goodall, president

of the Huxley Corporation. The Union Club was the place where Goodall could most frequently be found. He

Affecting a prosperous air, Urvin sat down beside Goodall and began a friendly conversation. The

corporation president seemed rather annoyed; nevertheless, he joined in the chat.

Urvin, seeking to emphasize the fact that he was now well supplied with funds, began to question Goodall

"I like it here," declared Goodall. "You would probably find it an excellent place to live."

"The fifth," asserted Goodall. "Room 550. I have never changed it since I came here. In fact, tonight will be

"Yes," declared Goodall. "I expect to leave at midnight. I am driving down to Trenton."

"I am waiting for a friend," returned Goodall. "Conrad Beecham is going with me. He cannot get here until

"No," answered Goodall, "I prefer to cut across country. There is less traffic."

Goodall pulled an envelope from his pocket. He traced a route upon it, then tossed the envelope toward a

wastebasket. The piece of paper fluttered and fell short, dropping between the chair and the basket.

"See you later, Goodall," remarked Urvin, rising. "Thanks for the information about the rooms."

AFTER strolling through the lobby, Urvin quickened his pace when he reached the outer door. He glanced at

his watch. It was half past ten. The young man was tempted to take a taxicab as he neared Fortyseventh and

Broadway, until he noticed that a late Chinatown bus was just about to pull out. Hurrying forward, Urvin paid

Drawing a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, he began to make meaningless marks in pencil, while he

observed the man beside whom he was sitting. Noting that the sightseer was interested in the busdriver's

palaver, Urvin quickly wrote down a short report of his conversation with Blaine Goodall. Pocketing the note,

he folded it while it was out of sight, and thrust it into a tiny envelope that was loose in his pocket.

It required nearly half an hour for the bus to reach its destination. The guide started the crowd through the

streets of Chinatown. Before they reached the principal corner of Mott and Pell, the man conducted his

Chon Look saw Hugo Urvin. After the Chinaman had finished his explanation of the wishing sticks, he

observed the American picked them up for examination. He also saw the envelope that Urvin laid beside

Briefly terminating his talk, Chon Look conducted the visitors to the door and made a sign to the girls to

bring forward gift packages. One of these was given to Hugo Urvin, along with the others.

"Important," mumbled Urvin, as he took the package from the Buddhist. "Work quickly."

The moment that the room was clear, Chon Look hurried over to the wishing sticks, picked up the envelope,

and opened the secret passage. He reached the temple, and struck the soundless gong.

The incense burners puffed. The figure of Kwa appeared upon its taboret. Chon Look extended the envelope.

Kwa tore it open with his clawing nails, and read the message. A gloating chuckle crackled from his evil lips.

A minute later, a panel opened, and Soy Foon entered. Kwa had signaled for this henchman. The Living Joss

Before the gesture was ended, the incense burners delivered another terrific puff. Kwa disappeared.

Chon Look and Soy Foon turned. Each left by his own passage. Chon Look returned to idle in the shrine, but

Reaching his back room, he uttered a shrill cry. A Chinese boy appeared. Soy Foon spoke to him in English,

FIVE minutes later, a rap on the door announced the arrival of the visitor. Soy Foon admitted the huge

"Chun Shi has departed," declared Soy Foon, with a slow smile. "It is your turn, now, to do the same."

The merchant drew closer to the huge underling, and began to babble in a singsong monotone. A gleam of

A secret cabal in the heart of Chinatown; orders from Kwa, through his henchman, Soy Foon. This, indeed,

was a sinister scene, but it was more than matched by another that occurred not far away from this spot.

In the front of a blackened building on an obscure Chinatown alley, a small grating moved upward from the

sidewalk. The head and shoulders of a man were thrust cautiously into view. The body followed. A figure,

muffled in an overcoat and hat, stretched upward and moved hastily along the alley, the grating sliding

Keeping to alleys only, the moving man managed to avoid the light except at the first crossing. There, unseen

by anyone, an evil face glowed yellow. It was the same countenance that Harry Vincent had seen on Barton

The evil visage was undergoing a change. Its fiendishness was lessening; but as it gained a more human

appearance, the moving man entered another darkened alley. His rapid course led him to the street outside of

Chinatown, where the huge structure of the elevated rumbled with the passing of a train overhead.

The figure was moving less swiftly as it entered a poorly lighted store that fronted on the street. The man who

had been Kwa went into a dim corner where a telephone box was located on the wall. His face unseen by the

The finger that dialed a number was less clawlike than before. It had lost its peculiar identity. The voice had

undergone a change also. When this man spoke, his tone was disguised, but it no longer carried the familiar

Transformed to another person, this man who had been Kwa no longer bore any resemblance to the socalled

Living Joss. His back alone visible within the store gave him the appearance of a chance New Yorker

Kwa was no longer Kwa. The demon was nonexistent. In his place was a quietspeaking man whose low,

Yet in his present guise, Kwa was still a menace. The transformed Living Joss was paving the way for

WESTLEY HARTNETT'S apartment was a long way uptown. Despite the fact that the lawyer had traveled

rapidly in his car, it was nearly midnight when he reached his destination. Had he been riding to a locality in

Westley Hartnett felt that he had made swift progress coming home. Another car, however, had followed at a

much more rapid pace. The Shadow, sensing a menace to the lawyer, had taken up a speedy chase after he

had left Harry Vincent. As Hartnett was entering the lobby of his apartment building, a trim coupe was

Trivial incidents sometimes have important bearing on what is to follow. The elevator door was closing when

Westley Hartnett approached. The operator just managed to glimpse the arriving lawyer. He reopened the

At the same time, back on the avenue, a taxicab from a cross street collided with a sedan, and traffic was

automatically blocked. The driver of a coupe was forced to wait while the cars ahead of him moved into

Thus, Westley Hartnett experienced no delay whatever in going up to his apartment, whereas the person who

was following his course lost precious minutes in his effort to overtake the lawyer.

Reaching his apartment, Hartnett promptly unlocked the door, and turned on a light in the entry. Had he

paused here to remove his hat and coat, he would again have had a chance of thwarting impending doom. But

tonight, contrary to his usual procedure, Hartnett walked directly into the large room, and turned on a floor

The lawyer happened to pick the lamp that was nearest to the window. Deciding that the room was stuffy, he

raised the sash. Perhaps the fact that he had not yet doffed his overcoat was the cause for his decision that the

room was too hot. Whatever the case might have been, Hartnett was unwittingly making a play into hands

As the lawyer turned from the window, a strange creature sprang in from the outer darkness. Like a human

spider, it threw its long arms and legs about the attorney's body. Westley Hartnett uttered a choking gasp as

The creature twisted itself about the intended victim. Hartnett found himself staring into the eyes of an

evilfaced yellow man the spidery Chinaman known as Chun Shi, the Crafty. This minion of Kwa had been

Throttling hands caught at Westley Hartnett's throat. Before the attorney could break the hold away, Chun Shi

had added new twists. Like the curling tentacles of an octopus, the long limbs of the crafty slayer were

With choking power, the Chinaman prevented Hartnett from making any outcry; yet he allowed the lawyer to

stagger about the room. Therein lay Chun Shi's cunning; and Hartnett performed a fatal error. Had he

struggled against the hands alone, he would have delayed his death, for Chun Shi would have required

IRONICALLY, a rescuer was nearing this very spot, and headwork by Hartnett would have meant salvation.

But the lawyer staggered about at random, and brought himself into the exact position that Chun Shi required.

Near the table, with Hartnett leaning backward, Chun Shi's distorted body seemed to spring upward, and the

change of weight caused the lawyer to lose his balance. As Westley Hartnett toppled backward, the

Chinaman emitted a fiendish croak and drove his right palm squarely into the lawyer's face.

The back of Hartnett's head smashed against the corner of the heavy desk, driven there with the crushing

Chun Shi vaulted away with the ease of an acrobat. His longlimbed frame hovered above the lawyer's form.

With a quick stride, Chun Shi gained the window. He slipped his feet to the ledge below, and scrambled in

crablike fashion along the side of the building. He was like a yellow spider as he fled from window to

Within half a minute after he had sprung away from Westley Hartnett's body, Chun Shi had gained the

window that led to the side hall. That marked his final departure from the neighborhood of death.

There was no motion in Westley Hartnett's body. It lay unbreathing upon the floor beside the desk. Slow,

The portal opened, and a black shape came into view. The Shadow moved swiftly to the large room. A

strange, spectral figure in the room illuminated by a single lamp, the master of darkness viewed the

Westley Hartnett was dead. Fate had conspired tonight. From the moment when Harry Vincent had missed

the lawyer in the sun porch, all events had favored the evil schemes of murderers.

The insidious figure that Harry had seen on the streaky lawn had commanded The Shadow's investigation.

The swift race of The Shadow had been intended to prevent that creature from overtaking Hartnett. Instead, a

Despite that, The Shadow could have made the rescue but for freakish factors. Westley Hartnett's prompt

arrival home; The Shadow's unforeseen delay on the avenue; the crafty strategy of Chun Shi!

Westley Hartnett was dead. His slayer was gone, leaving no clew to his identity. Yet The Shadow, as he

viewed the lawyer's body with his searching eyes, knew well that death had struck but a few minutes before;

GAZING from the window, the keeneyed investigator noted the ledge that ran beneath the line of windows.

The Shadow knew that some swiftmoving creature must have effected a rapid escape; that pursuit would not

A low, whispered laugh sounded in the dim room. It was a sibilant mockery of keen determination, The

Shadow's sinister cry of vengeance. Evil had triumphed here tonight. Whoever the unknown slayer might be,

The Shadow was reviewing words that he had heard spoken only a few nights ago the cold analysis which

Doctor Ward Zelka had made in Brindle's restaurant. Westley Hartnett was one who blocked a crooked

scheme. His elimination would further anyone who might plan for illgained wealth.

The Shadow's thoughts went further. They were no longer concerned with the affairs of Westley Hartnett.

The lawyer could not be restored to life. Another must be considered; one who was still alive.

Blaine Goodall! After Westley Hartnett, the president of the Huxley Corporation would prove a

When crime was scheduled, The Shadow regarded it as an immediate menace. The master of detection never

Blaine Goodall, living, would need protection. Westley Hartnett, dead, required none.

The whispered laugh rebounded. Its echoes came back weirdly from the walls. When the last of those solemn

sounds had ceased, the singlelighted room was occupied only by Westley Hartnett's body.

The Shadow was gone. The successful craft of Chun Shi was but the first step in murderous crime. When the

A TALL, keenvisaged man entered the portal of the Union Club shortly after midnight less than half an

hour following the unfortunate death of Westley Hartnett. The doorman of the club bowed as he recognized

Lamont Cranston was not a member of the Union Club, but he held a guest card there, and his appearance

It was not often that this prominent millionaire visited the place. Members had urged him to join the

organization; the doorman, proud of the club's prestige, had learned of this effort. He was quite obsequious

The firmfaced millionaire nodded pleasantly and strolled through the lobby. His gaze turned toward the

lounge room. His ears caught the sound of a protesting voice. Cranston stopped to watch a heated discussion

"I tell you that Mr. Goodall must be here," argued the fatfaced club member. "He promised to wait for me

"I know that, Mr. Beecham," interposed the attendant. "But when I received your telephone message "

"I understand, sir," said the attendant. "Let me tell you exactly what occurred. I answered the telephone, and

was told that the call was from you. I was instructed to tell Mr. Goodall that you could not join him on his

"Preposterous!" puffed Conrad Beecham. "I never told anyone to call here. Where was Mr. Goodall when you

"He was sitting right here, sir" the attendant indicated a large chair "and he seemed rather annoyed when

"I never said that I would not join him!" snorted Beecham. "This is an outrage! I am going up to Goodall's

room. It will be fortunate for you if he is there. This may mean your dismissal, my man!"

The attendant shrugged his shoulders as Beecham stormed from the lounge room. He followed in the fat

Lamont Cranston, a silent witness of the scene, slowly puffed upon a cigarette and strolled over toward the

To a keen sleuth, this would have been regarded as a perfect clew. A broad highway led from New York to

Trenton. By following that route, one could overtake a man who was traveling at normal speed. Yet The

Shadow, even when he had learned that Blaine Goodall had departed, displayed no hasty response.

In the calm guise of Lamont Cranston, this supersleuth quietly surveyed the chair which Goodall had recently

A full minute passed a minute which a smart detective might have considered as wasted time. But at the

Protruding from beneath the edge of the chair was the corner of a white piece of paper. Still puffing his

cigarette, Lamont Cranston seated himself in Blaine Goodall's chair, and with the same action, his hand

The eyes of The Shadow saw the rough sketch which Blaine Goodall had made for Hugo Urvin. The hand of

The Shadow crumpled the envelope in a ball, and tossed it into the wastebasket the target which Goodall

had missed. The Shadow had scored an important point against the enemy. His deliberate actions had enabled

Where any other would have followed the direct route to the New Jersey capital, The Shadow was ready now

to take the roundabout route for which Blaine Goodall had expressed a preference.

Still deliberate, this being who masked himself in the guise of Lamont Cranston arose and strolled to the

lobby. He entered a telephone booth and called a New Jersey number. A voice answered; it was that of

"This is Mr. Cranston," said The Shadow, in the calm tone of the millionaire. "Tell Stanley that I intend to

use the speedster tonight. Have him bring it immediately to the New Jersey side of the Holland Tunnel. He

His call completed, The Shadow left the Union Club. The doorman gave Lamont Cranston a salute as he

Lamont Cranston! The name commanded great respect. Only The Shadow knew that the real Lamont

Reaching a coupe, the actions of The Shadow became more swift. The trim car headed rapidly downtown. In

quick time, it reached the Holland Tunnel, and sped through the tube beneath the Hudson River. A swift car,

this one; yet not swift enough to overtake a man with the start that Blaine Goodall had gained.

AT the Jersey side of the tunnel, the coupe stopped. As Lamont Cranston, The Shadow emerged and

approached a longhooded roadster that was waiting there. A uniformed chauffeur tipped his hat.

"Hello, Stanley," came the easy tones of Cranston. "Take the coupe home. I am going for a spin."

The chauffeur nodded. He noted that his employer was carrying a briefcase. Lamont Cranston had one

Stanley would have been surprised had he known the contents of that bag. Within the darkness of the parked

speedster, the personage who was the perfect double of the millionaire opened the briefcase and removed a

As the car moved forward, the driver seemed to disappear beneath the folds of a black cloak. A

The huge speedster a car with wheel base greater than that of a large limousine moved rapidly along the

Lincoln Highway. It was gaining, no doubt, upon Blaine Goodall; but its speed, at present, was no greater

Then came the turning point. Following the odd route which Blaine Goodall had chosen for his trip to

Miles behind? What were miles to this powerful foreign car? What were miles when The Shadow was at the

A long, clear stretch of road lay far ahead. Not a car in sight at this late hour. The motor purred softly at

seventy miles an hour. It began to thrum at ninety. Then its noise became a roar.

The speedometer moved upward to one hundred and ten. It wavered there, occasionally tending toward a

higher point than that terrific speed. At whirlwind pace, the huge speedster held the road, scarcely slackening

The hand of The Shadow was at the wheel. The master who battled crime was on the trail of Blaine Goodall,

If danger lay in the path of an innocent man tonight, The Shadow would be there when the menace arrived!

OUT upon a lonely New Jersey road, not far from the town of Hopewell, Blaine Goodall was following a

wellpaved path to Trenton. The road which the corporation president had taken was excellent, despite its

A light drizzle was beginning. The road was slippery, and Goodall dropped the gait of his sedan to fortyfive

miles an hour. Up to now, the man had been traveling between fifty and fiftyfive.

Blaine Goodall was grumbling to himself. He could not understand why his friend Beecham had changed his

mind about this trip to Trenton. Goodall had been angry ever since he had received the telephone message at

Because of the message from Beecham, Goodall was now riding alone. Had his friend been thoughtful

enough to have informed him earlier, he would have been able to start at eight o'clock, and would now be

The drizzle, foggy in parts, had made driving uncomfortable. Goodall could not understand the lack of

Little did Goodall suppose that his chance conversation with Hugo Urvin had been the real cause of the

present state of affairs! A chain of remarkable events had occurred immediately after that talk, and at this

One driving hazard that annoyed Blaine Goodall was the frequency of crossing signs. Every time that he

slowed the coupe in response to a shining warning, the driver discovered that the crossroad was nothing more

than a thirdclass highway. Nevertheless, Goodall instinctively obeyed each caution as he approached it.

He was on a long, curving stretch of deserted roadway. Somewhere, in the distance, the whirling beacon of an

airway marker played elusively across the horizon. Those flashes of light were always the same space away.

An airplane? It sounded more like a powerful motor that was following along the road, yet the swiftness of its

approach convinced Goodall that it must be an air rider rather than an automobile, for the sound was gaining

A curve. Another crossing sign. Goodall applied the brakes and grunted as he rolled across a dirtroad

intersection. He pressed the accelerator as he rose over a sloping bridge. Then, in the midst of this barren

THE roar behind became a terrific sound as a highpowered follower swept past the bend which Goodall had

just taken. Powerful headlights glimmered in the mirror in front of Goodall's face.

Something else loomed ahead across the highway, Goodall saw a touring car. The vehicle was parked at a

slight angle, heading the same way that he was driving; but Goodall realized that if he kept on, a crash could

Powerful lights, accompanied by a terrific roar. That was the sign from the rear. A black, rakish automobile,

like a pirate ship of the road, barring the way ahead. This sight was the real menace that startled Blaine

Goodall's coupe began to skid. Still sticking to the brakes, Goodall controlled it to some degree as it swung

sidewise in the road. In the midst of this dizzy whirl that was bringing him close to the touring car, Goodall

Under the control of a driver who possessed amazing skill, the passing car began to slow its pace to avoid two

His own car stopping, its nose turned back along the road which he had taken here, Goodall thrust his head

through the opened window. He could see the touring car that blocked the way. Goodall gave a cry of fright.

The glare of the stopping speedster's headlights revealed armed men in the touring car! Threatening revolvers

Even as he watched, the corporation president saw a flash of flame. A bullet whistled by the open window of

Bandits of the road! They were opening fire. Their first shots were wide; but Goodall, helpless at the wheel of

the sedan, would soon have been an easy target. Strange, yellow faces were behind those guns.

Terror gripped Blaine Goodall. Death lay before him death which would have occurred within a minute,

It was the driver of the huge speedster who intervened. With a swing of the steering wheel, the handler of that

great car swept his motored Jagannath directly between the doomed car and the touring car that threatened it.

Startled yellow faces were no longer visible as the headlights of the speedster turned; but when an automatic

roared its message from the helm of the arriving car, the fiends ahead realized that they had met their match.

The Shadow had reached the end of his trail. He had arrived just in time to offset the ambush arranged for

Blaine Goodall. Hurling his swift speedster to the gap between coupe and touring car, he was opening fire

The cannonade of the automatic was silencing in its power. Before it, the revolvers of the wouldbe assassins

were no more than playthings. Metal messengers pronounced the power of The Shadow.

Each bark of the master's .45 found a living target. A mocking laugh pealed forth as The Shadow delivered

his closeranged broadside. Chinese mobsters crumpled. Each trigger finger faltered. Wild, hopeless shots

The driver of the touring car had alone escaped The Shadow's wrath. While the being in the speedster

directed his shots toward the armed men whom he faced, the Chinaman who controlled the blocking touring

car jammed his vehicle into low gear. With a wide swing that nearly wrecked it against a fence beside the

road, the blocking automobile shot away and down the highway, fleeing from the power of The Shadow. The

AGAIN, the laugh of The Shadow came as an uncanny cry through the drizzling haze that surrounded the

lonely spot. His automatic emptied, The Shadow had another weapon in readiness. He had saved Blaine

Yet The Shadow's able work was destined to fail; not through the ability of the enemy, but because of a

sudden lack of judgment which Blaine Goodall displayed at this moment of salvation.

The skid of his car had pointed Goodall back along the road. Despite the fact that the rescuer in the speedster

was certainly a friend, Goodall took to frenzied flight. Before The Shadow could stop him, the frightened

man shoved his car into low, and changed gears as he headed back toward the obscure crossroad on the other

The Shadow responded as quickly as was possible. He made no effort to pursue his vanquished foemen;

instead, he manipulated the speedster so that he could follow the same course that Goodall was now taking.

The long, powerful car, however, required more time to turn than had the skidded coupe.

Just as The Shadow managed to gain the course, Blaine Goodall reached the approach of the bridge. The

hunted man shouted aloud in new terror. A second touring car almost identical with the first had come

In the glare of his focused headlights, Goodall could see yellow faces as fierce as those which he had just

It missed the coupe, but fear did the work. With a wild cry, Goodall pressed his foot against the brake of the

The coupe crashed into the rail of the bridge, broke through, and plunged headlong into a deep ravine.

The roar of The Shadow's speedster drowned the long, wailing cry that Goodall uttered. With powerful

vengeance, The Shadow was speeding to the new attack. The foreign car had a righthand drive. With his left

hand upon the wheel, The Shadow leaned from the right of the car, and let his right hand loose its steel.

The muzzle of the big automatic sent its deadly projectiles into the midst of the enemy. Flashing revolvers

tried to meet the fusillade. They failed. Yellowfaced men sprawled upon the seats of the second touring car.

The driver responded by shooting the automobile straight down the dirt road that lay ahead.

His action was none too soon. The heavy speedster was bearing down upon the car that held the bewildered

Chinese gunmen. The yellowpeopled automobile sped away just in time to avoid a devastating crash.

THE speedster came to a grinding stop. Far down the dirt road, the fleeing raiders were driving for safety. A

figure emerged from behind the wheel of the big speedster. The Shadow moved through darkness toward the

A flashlight glimmered through the broken rail. It showed the shattered bulk of Blaine Goodall's coupe. Amid

the misty drizzle, The Shadow lowered himself from the side of the bridge, and dropped to the craggy side of

The flashlight revealed a battered, dying form. Blaine Goodall, in a mad effort to escape death, had opened

The action had been an untimely one. Caught beneath the rolling body of the car, Goodall had met his doom.

As the flashlight flickered on the terrorstricken face, the president of the Huxley Corporation breathed his

The Shadow stood in silence. Again, fate had contrived against his surpassing skill. He had arrived in time to

shoot down one squad of blocking enemies. He had turned and driven back to deliver death to another corps

of skulking assassins. But in the midst of conflict, the man whom he had come to save had hurtled to his own

Long minutes followed The Shadow's sad discovery; then a figure clambered into the speedster, and the

The Shadow had performed mighty deeds tonight. Here, on a lonely road in New Jersey, he had acted with

sufficient power to thwart an evil killing. Blaine Goodall had died through his own frightened efforts to

escape while protected by The Shadow. The slippery road, too, had been a factor in the man's death.

The craft of Chun Shi; that, The Shadow had been too late to thwart. The might of Koy Shan; with it, The

Shadow had deserved success. Yet this second minion of Kwa had gained his objective, although doom had

The Shadow had another score to settle. Koy Shan belonged with Chun Shi. Like the crafty one, the mighty

killer had gained his end. But never again would Koy Shan slay. Death would strike him before he had the

THE next day's newspapers contained accounts of two murders. Westley Hartnett, prominent attorney, had

been found slain in the living room of his apartment. Blaine Goodall, corporation president, had been killed

The difference in the circumstances surrounding these deaths was so apparent that no connection was made

between them. Westley Hartnett had unquestionably been the victim of a fiendish killer. His case was one for

Blaine Goodall, on the contrary, seemed to have been the victim of an unfortunate coincidence. Evidence in

the form of tire tracks and dropped revolvers pointed to a gang fight between two mobs of gunmen. Goodall,

apparently, had been caught in between. Seeking escape, he had crashed through the side of a bridge. His

Thus Joe Cardona, ace detective on the New York force, was concerned with Hartnett's death alone. The star

sleuth required very little time to check up on the lawyer's actions after he had reached his apartment.

Hartnett had spent the evening at Barton Schofield's. Cardona corroborated that fact by telephone. He had

arrived home shortly before midnight. Some time between then and morning his body was discovered at

eight o'clock, by the woman who came to clean the apartment a slayer had entered to take the lawyer's life.

When had the murder occurred? That fact was quickly ascertained. Medical inspectors affirmed that Hartnett

must have been dead for nearly eight hours before his body was discovered. The fact that the lawyer was

wearing his overcoat proved that he must have been slain shortly after he entered the apartment.

The murderer? On that point, Cardona could find no clew. His search of the apartment showed him nothing.

The killer's mode of entry and exit could have been by door or window. It looked like the work of a maniac.

But while Cardona pondered, with threads of evidence lacking, another in New York was engaged in more

effective investigation. The Shadow, a peerless sleuth, had access to facts which would have amazed

A BLUISH light was glimmering in the corner of a room which was pitchdark save for that one illuminated

spot. Beneath the focused rays of the shaded lamp, long white hands were at work upon a polished table.

From the third finger of the left hand glowed a mysterious gem which possessed a myriad of everchanging

hues. Its colorful depths which fluctuated from crimson to azure, with all the shades between flashed

This stone was The Shadow's girasol. A fire opal of priceless beauty, it served as the master's lone talisman.

The right hand of The Shadow began to inscribe cryptic notations upon a sheet of paper. Moving like a

detached thing of life, that hand set down important facts, beginning with the preliminary factors that had led

As the hand wrote that name, hidden lips pronounced the single syllable in a mysterious whisper.

The Shadow had foreseen such events. Well did the master of darkness know the latent power that could be

stirred to action within the confines of New York's Chinatown. Seeking the root of evil, The Shadow had

invaded the Chinese quarter to search for the Living Joss. While he had pursued that course, Kwa, still

Strange links had come to The Shadow's notice, but as he listed them, he observed that in this game of crime,

It was The Shadow's task to analyze all facts, to join the broken links into a finished chain, neglecting those

Whispers in Chinatown. An American who understood the language, who had listened to talk of Kwa. A

In New York, police believed that Westley Hartnett had been slain by a maniac. In New Jersey, State troopers

had classed Blaine Goodall as the chance victim of hijacking gangsters. But The Shadow knew the truth.

Westley Hartnett had been murdered by a swiftmoving killer, who had worked with expert craftiness. Agile

as a monkey, this slayer had made an immediate escape. The Shadow knew that a creature had come out of

Blaine Goodall had been ambushed by armed fighters. They, however, had not been gangsters. Well did The

Shadow know that fact! The headlights of his powerful speedster had shown Chinamen behind those

A second murderer: one who fought with might instead of stealth. Two minions of Kwa, fiendish foes to

society, whose evil careers must be ended. The Shadow had sworn that these fiends would never again strike

FIVE names appeared upon a sheet of paper as the hand of The Shadow wrote them there:

With solemn gesture, The Shadow crossed out the first two on the list. Hartnett and Goodall were dead.

The yellow face! It had been at Schofield's last night. Harry Vincent had seen it. He had observed the

bounding form that bore the venomous visage. He had watched throughout the night, to make sure that the

Again, the concealed lips of The Shadow repeated that insidious title. Eyes from the dark were glaring toward

the table top. The Shadow knew well that some strange stroke was due to fall very soon at Barton Schofield's

Twice had The Shadow sought to thwart the crimes designed by Kwa. Both events had taken place last night;

A knowing laugh came in shuddering tones. There was one way in which The Shadow could control the

course of destiny. That was to plan his counterstroke before a deed of crime could fall!

A long white forefinger tapped the crossedout name of Westley Hartnett. Someone, The Shadow knew, had

studied the dead lawyer's actions. The lurking slayer at the apartment must have been guided by accurate

Another tap upon the eliminated name of Blaine Goodall. Here was direct evidence of contact. Someone, at

the Union Club, had learned the route that Goodall was taking to Trenton. A false telephone call had

The Shadow had dealt with many murderers. Superfiends whom he had encountered in the past would have

had no scruples about slaying an unneeded victim such as Beecham. But here, The Shadow knew, was one

who had no scruples, yet who did not care to deal in unnecessary death. Such a plotter was far beyond an

Kwa! The master mind who posed as the Living Joss had gained the services of some useful tool. This man

must be one who could have visited Westley Hartnett and Blaine Goodall with equal ease; one, perhaps, who

A laugh came softly as The Shadow unfolded a report from Harry Vincent. This was a detailed account of the

evening's events at Barton Schofield's. In it, Harry Vincent had inserted the statement that Westley Hartnett

Hugo Urvin was the fellow's name. A chance clew, but one which The Shadow had put to immediate use.

Another report unfolded. This was from a second secret agent of The Shadow, a newspaper reporter named

Independent of the word which he had received from Harry Vincent, The Shadow had sent Clyde Burke to

the Union Club. As a representative of the New York Classic, Burke had talked with club attendants

The reporter had learned that the corporation president was in the lounge room during the evening. Goodall

had been waiting for his friend Beecham. He had seemed in good spirits; in fact, he had been seen chatting

with another club member. Casually, Burke had learned the name of Goodall's temporary companion.

That young man had come to the Union Club after his early departure from Barton Schofield's mansion. This

No detail escaped The Shadow's keen consideration. The envelope which he, as Lamont Cranston, had

plucked from the floor at the Union Club was a significant point in solving the present situation.

Hugo Urvin had talked with Blaine Goodall, and had learned the man's plans. That must have occurred

between half past ten and half past eleven. Within that short period, a gang of Chinese slayers had been sent

The inference? To The Shadow there could be but one. Hugo Urvin had established quick contact with Kwa.

With further crime impending, new contact would be necessary. The Shadow, by many lesser clews, had

gained the one he wanted. Through Hugo Urvin, he could find the way to the secret abode of the Living Joss!

ONCE again, The Shadow studied the list of names which he had written. Three remained of the five who

had met at Barton Schofield's. The weary old banker; the largemouthed stock manipulator; the suave

One, Barton Schofield, was opposed by the other two. At the same time, David Moultrie and Ward Zelka,

while they had united through circumstance, might each be engaged in individual activity.

Briefly, The Shadow wrote instructions, and sealed each order in a separate envelope. One to Clyde Burke, to

keep watch on David Moultrie. The other to Harry Vincent, whose duty would be to observe Doctor Ward

Barton Schofield remained to The Shadow. The old banker, with Hartnett and Goodall gone, was no longer

associated with conservative men; yet The Shadow held no worry for Schofield's present safety.

Kwa had been at the banker's home last night; but Kwa had been watching Westley Hartnett, whose life was

even then in the balance. Nothing had happened to Barton Schofield. Nothing would happen, until Kwa's

The present situation involved two personalities. Kwa, the Living Joss, was one. Barton Schofield, the retired

banker, was the other. The link between was probably Hugo Urvin. There, at the weak point, The Shadow

The light clicked out above the polished table. The room became a mass of solid blackness. This was The

Shadow's sanctum, the uncanny abode which only the master frequented. A laugh rippled through the

The Shadow was gone. He had departed from this room where darkness reigned. His new quest had begun.

The Shadow's clews were many; among them, the one of Hugo Urvin was the only link which The Shadow

THE bright lights of Broadway were aglow. It was early evening in Manhattan, and the dancing glare of

Times Square was luring pleasureseekers. At Fortyseventh and Broadway, a barker was crying forth the

Hugo Urvin, nattily dressed and sporting a new cane, lingered beside the filling bus. He drew a half dollar

from his vest pocket, and tendered it to the barker. He received a ticket and stepped aboard the bus.

A few minutes later, another customer approached the barker, and also paid a half dollar. This man was a tall,

calmfaced individual, who appeared quite inconspicuous despite the keenness of his hawklike features. He

The Shadow was on the trail of his quarry. He had picked up Urvin's course outside of the apartment house

where the young man lived. Already, he had discovered the simple but ingenious way in which Urvin paid his

Had Urvin been one of those New Yorkers who make their Chinatown trips as individual excursions, The

Shadow would long since have learned his identity. The master of detection had spent long periods of

But as a sightseer on a bus one of those many visitors to Manhattan who nightly go in herds to see the

Chinese district that policy had enabled Hugo Urvin to conceal his visits to the shrine controlled by Chon

The big bus rolled down Broadway. Half an hour later, it stopped on a dingy thoroughfare, and the guide

ordered the passengers to alight. The group moved along, most persons herding close to their fellows,

The sight of uniformed policemen patrolling this district as a regular beat did not dispel the enthusiasm of the

crowd. The guide's buildup of the lurking dangers to be found in Chinatown was sufficient to preserve the

Ablaze with light, the corner of Mott and Pell glimmered ahead. Most of the sightseers were taking in the

curious sights about them, when the guide turned his charges down the side alley toward the Buddhist shrine.

Two persons in the crowd followed with leisurely indifference. One was Hugo Urvin; the other was the

Unconscious of the eyes which took this interest in his affairs, Urvin swirled his cane and strolled through the

CHON LOOK and the Chinese girls bowed solemnly when the crowd came in. With his singsong English,

the keeper of the Buddhist shrine began to explain the purposes of prayer papers and wishing sticks. Hugo

Urvin glanced curiously at the wishing sticks after Chon Look had laid them aside; but tonight the young man

This would have been a clew to the quiet individual, who was watching. Unfortunately, the clew was lacking.

Nevertheless, The Shadow did not relax his vigil. The lecture terminated. The visitors departed, and, on the

way, each received a wrapped package. Chon Look blandly handed one to Hugo Urvin; another to the

The trip through Chinatown continued. At last, the visitors again reached the bus. But in that trip, the eyes of

The Shadow had noted a significant fact. From the time that he had left the shrine governed by Chon Look,

Hugo Urvin had displayed a marked impatience that he had been unable to conceal!

Fortyseventh and Broadway. The passengers alighted. Hugo Urvin entered the subway. The calmfaced

man still followed him, but when the pair entered an uptown local, Hugo Urvin, glancing about, saw no one

His hand in the pocket of his overcoat, Urvin fumbled with the package that he held there. He knew that it

contained funds; and he was anticipative of the reward that he was to find there.

Urvin's apartment house was but a short distance from the subway station where the young man alighted.

Swinging his cane with his right hand, clutching the pocketed package with his left, Urvin walked quickly

There was one, however, who moved with greater swiftness. It was obvious, as soon as Urvin had left the

subway train, that he intended to go back to his apartment. A tall man had gone up the stairs ahead of Urvin;

Scarcely had Urvin passed that car before a figure glided from the door. A shape of blackness, an outlined

form garbed in flowing cloak and slouch hat, The Shadow had replaced the hawkfaced man who had trailed

A blotch of darkness moved along the sidewalk on the other side of the street. It crossed a hundred feet ahead

of Urvin. The man with the cane did not observe that phantom shape as it glided into the vestibule of the

The lock of the inner door clicked. The mysterious personage entered the hallway. The door closed and

locked three full seconds before Hugo Urvin made his appearance. There was no trace of the invisible

Up in the elevator; to his own apartment. Urvin opened the door and chuckled. He strode to a corner and

lighted a table lamp. With eager hands, he removed the wrapping from the package. A crisp stack of rolled

URVIN set a little green jade elephant upon the table beside the ricepaper wrappings. With a hearty

chuckle, he counted the hundreddollar bills. Twelve of them tonight a suitable reward from Kwa, the

Living Joss. Urvin crinkled the currency and shoved it deep into his pocket. He smiled in new satisfaction.

Then, with new anticipation, he picked up the wrapping paper. The layered sheet came between him and the

light. Urvin looked at it with satisfaction. These messages from Kwa were clever. No one could possibly

Something moved from the darkness between Hugo Urvin's back and the wall. The young man did not detect

either sound or noise, for both were absent. In fact, no living form could possibly have been seen. The motion

The one manifestation of a living personage was the presence of a pair of glowing eyes. Their gaze, like that

of Hugo Urvin, was directed toward the sheet of wrapping paper. As Urvin carefully peeled the layers apart,

Urvin laid the blank portion upon the table. He studied the other sheet, and carefully read the instructions that

appeared there. So engrossed was he that he did not sense the approach of a looming form that closed behind

A strange scene! Hugo Urvin perusing the paper by the light of the lamp, with the living shroud above him

a shape which blotted out the penetrating rays of the lamp, and held the remainder of the room in sepulchral

Every word that Urvin read was seen by The Shadow also; yet the unmoving form of blackness never

As Urvin smiled in understanding of the new instructions, the shape behind him faded toward the wall. The

Urvin, now sensing danger for the first time, swung on his heel and stared toward the darkness of a farther

For a moment, Urvin fancied that he had detected a shift in the gloom. The table lamp did not provide

At that instant, the sheet of rice paper flared. Used though he was to this phenomenon, Urvin was

momentarily startled. He had forgotten about Kwa's message. Since the first one had taken care of itself,

With a forced laugh, the young man went to the door of the room. But in that interval, in which his eyes had

instinctively turned toward the burning message, a change had occurred in the darkened corner.

Gliding from the spot, The Shadow had gained the open door of another room. As Urvin pressed the light

switch, the tall figure faded like a vanishing ghost. Urvin, looking to the corner, saw only the blank wall,

plainly visible in the glare of the ceiling lights which the switch had illuminated.

Crumpling the useless section of the rice paper, Urvin threw it into a wastebasket. He placed the green jade

elephant upon the bookcase, along with the three wise monkeys and other souvenirs of his visits to the

THIS newest curio annoyed Urvin. He had a superstition that elephants were bad luck. His nerves seemed

There was a reason. Urvin knew well that he had definitely brought death to two men: Westley Hartnett and

Blaine Goodall. It was not likely that he would ever be implicated in the murders; the work that he had done

Nevertheless, Urvin was squeamish. As a crook, he was of a petty class. Lack of real nerve not the burden

of a conscience was the cause of Urvin's worriment. Here, alone, the man began to feel ill at ease. He

Kwa's service paid well. It was too good to leave. There was no turning now. With another forced laugh,

Urvin strode from his apartment. He wanted bright lights, fun at a night club, any form of artificial delight

For another task lay ahead a new appointment in the service of Kwa. Like the others, it would be easy.

Urvin nerved himself with the thought that he would not have to act until tomorrow night.

After all, no one could know of his connection with Kwa! No one could know what the Living Joss now

In this thought, Hugo Urvin was mistaken. When the door of the apartment had closed behind him, the form

of The Shadow emerged from the inner room. Urvin had left the table lamp gleaming. Near the illumination,

The Shadow formed a weird shape that cast a long, sinister silhouette across the floor.

A whispered laugh shuddered from hidden lips. Uncanny mockery came in a triumphant tone. What Hugo

Urvin knew, The Shadow knew. The next stroke planned by Kwa had been revealed to this sinister specter

Another deed of crime was impending. Hugo Urvin was to play but a minor part. Others would be there to do

the real evil. One of last night's murderers both, perhaps would be called upon for another fiendish stroke.

This time, The Shadow was prepared. He was ready to thwart the schemes of Kwa. The Shadow had learned

AT eight o'clock the next evening, Hugo Urvin arrived at the home of Barton Schofield. He had come here

for a party which had been scheduled some time previous. Maxine Schofield, when she extended invitations,

Thus Urvin, when he had attended the dance two nights ago, had also known that he was coming here

tonight. He had informed Kwa of both these social engagements, which had been in keeping with instructions

Two nights ago, Urvin had performed no duty here, even though Westley Hartnett had been present; but this

evening, Kwa's spying henchman was acting under new instructions. His task was to watch none other than

Urvin began his operations as soon as he had entered the house. While Maxine was greeting him in the

hallway, Urvin managed to glance through the door that led to the sun porch. There he saw the old banker

Hugo Urvin accompanied Maxine into the dance room. From now on, it would be easy to keep tabs upon

Schofield's actions. All that Urvin awaited was the time when the old man went upstairs.

But, as he was walking with Maxine, Urvin happened to glance back into the hallway to see two strangers

One was a tall young man with a long, solemn face; the other was a stocky, swarthy individual, whose

countenance was grim and determined. They were not guests of Maxine's, Urvin knew. He noted that a

"Men to see grandfather," replied the girl. "The tall one is George Cubitt. He works in Mr. Hartnett's law

"Yes. It was terrible! He was killed the night before last, after he had gone home from here. Think of that! It

Urvin nodded. He wondered what Cubitt was doing here. He hoped that the man and his companion would

After all, Urvin reflected, their presence would mean no complication. They would leave when Barton

Schofield decided to retire. The only lingering doubt which Urvin held was that concerning the identity of

Had Hugo Urvin looked in on the sun porch an act which very sagely he did not perform he would have

learned the identity of the man who had come with Cubitt. That identity would have given Urvin real worry.

The swarthy, stocky man with the firm face was none other than Detective Joe Cardona.

OUT on the sun porch, George Cubitt was introducing the sleuth to the old banker. Barton Schofield, his gray

face wearied, pointed to chairs. His visitors sat down. Cardona had closed the door behind him. He motioned

"Mr. Schofield," explained the young lawyer, "Detective Cardona is investigating the death of Westley

"Ah!" Schofield's tired eyes came to life. "You have taken up that good work? Poor Hartnett" the light

faded in Schofield's face "poor Hartnett. I hope that you can find the villain who slew him."

"We have learned something, Mr. Schofield," declared Cardona. "We are indebted to Mr. Cubitt here for a

"Mr. Schofield," he asserted, "we have learned that Westley Hartnett, in handling your financial matters, had

"Of course," said Schofield, becoming less lethargic. "Goodall was here with Hartnett not so many nights

"Ah!" exclaimed Cubitt, turning to Cardona. "You see? I was right. This connects the two deaths."

The question came from Barton Schofield. The old man's eyes expressed alarm. The banker was staring from

"Certainly, the deaths," declared the detective. "Westley Hartnett was killed. Blaine Goodall was killed "

Cardona stopped as he saw Barton Schofield slump back in his chair. The detective arose, half in alarm. Then

he saw Schofield recover his composure. The old man waved his hand to indicate that he was all right.

"Blaine Goodall dead?" Schofield paused solemnly. "Was he, too, murdered? Why was I not told?"

"Goodall was killed out on a New Jersey road," said the detective. "It looked like he had run into a fight

"It is murder!" Schofield's cry came suddenly, as the old man sat bolt upright. "Murder! I can tell you why!"

Cardona leaned forward to hear what the old banker had to say. Cubitt was agog. Schofield, gripped by

indignation, was speaking with a vehemence which be had evidently not shown in years. Cardona's warning

"IF I only knew more!" gasped Schofield. "Ah, gentlemen, I let Hartnett manage all the details. My memory

slips me. I never read the newspapers. I knew that Hartnett was dead only because this house was called and

the servants told me that he had been slain. But Goodall's death! That is news to me and now I understand."

"Something regarding Huxley stock" Barton Schofield's tone was bewildered "and Hartnett had some

"I had intended to buy Huxley, gentlemen. These people whom Hartnett brought wanted to block it. Do you

understand? My affairs interfered with theirs and I followed Hartnett's advice. They were angry at Hartnett

Barton Schofield suddenly threw his hands to his heart. His sudden outburst had weakened him. The old man

swayed back and forth. Cubitt leaped forward to catch him before he fell. Schofield gasped and leaned back

"I I must take it easy," he said wearily. "I I am an old man. This news Goodall's death "

Cubitt was beside the old banker, ready to give him further aid. The young lawyer was speaking; Cardona

"One man one man he had an odd sort of a face. Very distorted. Strangely" Schofield smiled rather

sheepishly "I can recall only that his name had something about it that reminded me of birds "

"No" Schofield was staring toward the ceiling "more like chickens some sort of fowl. I can't remember

names I never could. I didn't care who these men were. I was very tired the night that Hartnett introduced

"He was a physician," declared Schofield, with a steady nod. "Yes, a physician. Hartnett mentioned the fact.

There was a pause, then Schofield's face betrayed a haggard anxiety. He looked quickly from Cubitt to

"Do you think I am threatened?" he questioned. "Is that why you have come here? Am I in danger? Tell me

"Don't worry, Mr. Schofield," said Cardona soberly. "We'll get those fellows. Maybe they can tell us

"I am in danger from them?" Schofield's talk was doddering. "Will you protect me?"

The old man was rising from his chair. He grasped the edge of the table, his clutch weakened, and he slumped

While George Cubitt responded, the detective hastened to the door and summoned a servant. Barton

"Mr. Schofield has overexerted himself," declared the detective. "We must help him upstairs."

The servant nodded. He and Cardona aided the old banker to his feet. Cubitt followed. They reached the head

of the stairs and turned left to Schofield's room. The old man was smiling weakly now.

"I'm better," he declared to Cardona. "I'm sorry that I overstrained myself. Suppose suppose that I rest

"That does not matter," said Schofield, closing his eyes wearily. "I must concentrate. This is vitally

Cardona pondered. He could see that Barton Schofield was exhausted. The detective was a good

"It would be best for Mr. Schofield to sleep," he decided. "There is no cause for alarm. Mr. Cubitt and I are

leaving. I shall return tomorrow, and talk to you in the morning, Mr. Schofield."

The banker muttered a reply. The servant nodded to indicate that Cardona's decision was a wise one. He

began to help the old man remove his coat and vest. Cardona beckoned to Cubitt. The young lawyer followed

DOWNSTAIRS, they went to the sun porch. Cardona extinguished the light. Cubitt wondered when he heard

the detective fumble with the key that opened the door to the lawn. Then he felt Cardona's grasp. The

Hugo Urvin saw the pair depart. He smiled. His work was one that required caution. Barton Schofield had

retired, but until these visitors were gone, Urvin would not act. He saw Cardona and Cubitt go out by the

In the darkness of the veranda, the detective gripped the lawyer's arm. His voice was tense as he spoke in a

He conducted Cubitt toward the side of the house. Together they clambered from the veranda and moved

along, close by the side of the gray mansion. They reached the door of the sun porch the one which

Cardona had unlocked. The detective opened it carefully and motioned his companion inside.

Seated in corner chairs, the two were close together as Cardona whispered the reason for his strange behavior.

"I didn't want to scare the old man," declared Cardona, "but it looks to me like he is in danger, sure enough.

When you told me of Hartnett and Goodall that was bad enough. But with Schofield in it, too "

"Why not? They bumped off Hartnett and Goodall, didn't they? Listen. Schofield's an old man. The easy

"They've seen us come, haven't they? That is, if they're watching inside or out? Well do you realize what

"Sure. Any crook would know me. I didn't realize how serious this might be when I came here. I wised up

"We can watch. I ought to have some men on hand, but it's too late to fetch them now. It's better to lay low

"All right. Keep your nerve, then. Maybe nothing will happen tonight. I'm just playing safe. Tomorrow, I'll

detail men to cover this place. Say when that party breaks up, I can call headquarters. I'd like to sneak

The two men sat in darkness, Cardona cold and steady, Cubitt worried, but trying not to show it. A dance

ended, and silence replaced the faint strains of music that had come to the sun porch.

IN the dance room, Hugo Urvin strolled toward the hallway. He lighted a cigarette and joined two men who

were standing near the front door. Tonight's party was a small and informal one. Less than a dozen persons

He waited until his companions had turned back to the dance room; then, with a nonchalant air, Urvin opened

the front door and stepped out upon the veranda. He strolled to the end opposite the way which Cardona and

At the edge, Urvin paused and puffed his cigarette. He removed the halffinished stump from his mouth, and

flicked it with his thumb and second finger. The cigarette shot from the veranda on a long, meteoric arc that

clearly defined a glowing curve in the darkness. Sparks scattered as the cigarette struck the lawn.

Strolling back to the front door, Urvin entered unnoticed and joined the others in the dance room.

No one realized that he had been temporarily absent. Yet in that short space of time, Urvin had performed the

His sparkling cigarette had been a signal to men who were crouching in the outer darkness!

WHILE Hugo Urvin's cigarette still glowed upon the lawn beside Barton Schofield's mansion, a figure arose

beside the house and stood in momentary watchfulness. Firm hands gripped a vinecovered trelliswork, and a

Invisible in motion, spectral in action, this shape was as aweinspiring as the yellowfaced figure which

Harry Vincent had spied two nights ago. But although eyes were watching this very house, the climbing form

The Shadow, master of the night, was making a secret excursion to the second floor of Barton Schofield's

mansion. His lithe shape gained a window. The sash opened, and the cloaked figure entered.

Meanwhile, men were advancing upon the lawn. Peering from his vantage point, The Shadow could make out

the shapes of stealthy invaders. Still, The Shadow watched. These were the ones who had been sent to wait

for Hugo Urvin's signal. Scattered, hidden at various points, there had been no way of attacking one without

The advancers closed in upon a little door on the ground floor, at the side. The Shadow had expected this. He

saw one man enter the opening; then another. Counting, he observed eight in all. The faint whisper of a laugh

There were two chief henchmen whom Kwa employed. One moved by craft; the other by might. The Shadow

Had Chun Shi been chosen, it would have meant a singlehanded combat. Koy Shan, however, was the

designated person. One of the few Chinese gunmen who had escaped The Shadow's fire two nights ago, this

Murder was not in the cards tonight. The Shadow knew that fact now. The course was plain. These raiders

had been sent to capture Barton Schofield alive. Eight fighters to take one old man!

Moving across a darkened room, The Shadow found a door and opened it. He entered a gloomy hallway and

passed by the door of Barton Schofield's room. There was another doorway on the other side; beyond that the

MUSIC was coming from below. The second floor was deserted. Padded footsteps became evident. The

raiders had arrived by way of an obscure back stairway. From his place of hiding, The Shadow could not

count the members of the insidious band, but he could observe the door to Barton Schofield's room.

Figures clustered at that doorway. Among them was a huge fellow Koy Shan, the Mighty. Yellow faces,

darkened in the gloom, were looking toward their leader. Koy Shan gave a low command. Two men crouched

Koy Shan's strategy was now apparent. He had probably left two minions to guard the rear way. With two at

the front stairs in case of emergency, he and his four helpers could invade the bedroom and seize the helpless

Two Chinamen looking downward; four at the banker's door with their backs toward The Shadow. One

against six, but the advantage lay with the hidden master. As Koy Shan laid his huge hand upon the knob of

As The Shadow prepared to deliver a swift attack, one of the men at the head of the staircase chanced to turn

to see how the others were progressing. This crouching Chinaman, like his comrade on the steps, was armed

Almond eyes widened as the guard saw a moving smirch of blackness that blotted out all sight of Koy Shan.

It was a moment before the man realized that this was a living foe. He could not hold back the amazement

which accompanied his discovery. A snarling gasp came from his lips as he leaped forward, knife upraised.

As the Chinaman sprang, The Shadow whirled. His form shot forward to meet the attack. The Chinaman

made a downward thrust, calculated to strike the back of the blackclad figure. The Shadow, however, was

His driving shoulder smashed against the Chinaman's knees. The man with the knife hurtled along the floor,

his weapon flying from his grasp, to the feet of those at Schofield's door. Sprawled flat on his face, this

There was method in The Shadow's thrust. His driving attack kept on with unrestrained swiftness. The second

guard was turning from the staircase. He raised his knife to deliver the stroke which the other had failed to

The arms of The Shadow caught the Chinaman's rising form. While the left served as a fulcrum behind the

villain's back, the right shot the Chinaman's feet upward. With a shrill scream, the yellow man went plunging

In the powerful effort which had tossed this enemy from the fray, The Shadow had again acted with unfailing

calculation. His hurling motion terminated with a sweep that brought him face to face with Koy Shan and his

henchmen. While the falling guard was still on the first lap of his long plunge, The Shadow sprang down the

KNOWING that stealth was the keynote of the invasion, The Shadow had correctly reasoned that the

Chinamen would be ready with knives rather than guns. Blades that flashed in the gloom told the correctness

The Shadow knew how to deal with such weapons. His tall form shot into the midst of the four attacking

One man, alone, managed to grapple with the vengeful form in black. It was not Koy Shan the big fellow

had been floored by The Shadow's first blow. It was a wiry underling, who fought with ferocious venom as

With a clever twist, the Chinaman jerked his right hand free, and drew it back to deliver a thrust with the

But in the fall, The Shadow had acted with the same promptitude. His own right hand had gone beneath his

cloak. As he lay against the wall, the Chinaman kneeling half beside and half above him, The Shadow

A terrific roar burst through the hallway. The Chinaman, his grinning face distorted, toppled sidewise and fell

The Shadow made no effort to remove the helpless burden; his right hand free, his keen eyes staring toward

One rising foe leaped forward, his swift hand swinging to hurl a knife toward The Shadow's body. The

automatic roared. The Chinaman plunged as he sprang. The blade whistled above The Shadow's head, and

Three of six had been totally eliminated. One had hurtled down the stairs; two had been felled by The

Before The Shadow could fire after them, he was forced to meet another menace which his shrewd brain had

The Shadow's automatic turned. The muzzle flashed. The first of these reserves, the first Chinaman to

produce a gun, went down, a useless revolver in his fist. The other, a few feet behind, dived back the way that

he had come, and took the turn of the back stairs as The Shadow's automatic barked once more.

This Chinaman had managed to reach a spot of safety. The hallway was cleared. The Shadow, however, had

even swifter work ahead. Hurling aside the limp body that lay upon him, the blackclad battler rose to his

THERE was bedlam from the floor below. The crash of the first Chinaman falling down the steps had

brought people rushing from the dance room. They had seen a limp form lying upon the hallway. That enemy

Then had come the roar of The Shadow's automatic. Koy Shan and his companions, hurtling down the stairs,

had been too great a terror to face. Unarmed men and frightened girls had dashed back into the dance room,

Two Mongols reached the front door unobstructed. One was Koy Shan. The third, still on the steps, was

trapped by the sudden arrival of Detective Joe Cardona and George Cubitt. With a sharp command, Cardona

halted the fleeing Celestial in his tracks. The glowering assassin dropped his knife and raised his hands.

George Cubitt obeyed. Cardona, revolver in hand, started up the steps to investigate the shots that now had

Nervously, Cubitt had danced toward the front door. The barrier had opened. There stood the huge form of

Koy Shan, revolver in hand. Cubitt, trembling, still covered the Chinaman whom Cardona had just passed

A hoarse cry of exultation rose from Koy Shan's throat, as the big Chinaman leveled his automatic directly at

Joe Cardona. This Chinese gangster had recognized the star detective. With merciless precision, Koy Shan

prepared to end Cardona's life. His finger was on the trigger, while the detective still had his own gun at his

A mighty roar rolled from the head of the staircase. It was the terrific report of The Shadow's automatic.

With that roar, which sent stern echoes from the closewalled upstairs hall, Koy Shan faltered. The huge

Chinaman staggered two steps backward; his hand wavered, and the revolver dropped from his loosened

fingers. With a hideous snarl on his evil lips, the big Mongol sank to the floor.

The Shadow's oath had been kept. Since the death of Blaine Goodall, Koy Shan had accomplished no new

deed of murder. One of Kwa's chief threats had fallen. Koy Shan, the Mighty, was dead.

FRIGHTENED faces were peering from the dance room. George Cubitt was still covering the Chinaman,

who cowered at the foot of the stairs. Only one man looked upward toward the second floor. That man was

There, at the head of the staircase, the detective saw the grim form of an avenger clad in black. He observed

the black cloak, its turnedback edge revealing a portion of crimson lining. He spied two keen, blazing eyes

that alone were visible beneath the brim of the slouch hat. He saw the smoking muzzle of the automatic that

Cardona had encountered that mysterious being before. He knew the power of The Shadow's might. He had,

ere this, gained evidence of The Shadow's readiness to combat crime. Tonight, the hand of The Shadow had

The weird peals of a mocking laugh seemed to rise from the dying echoes of The Shadow's amazing shot.

Only perfect marksmanship could have thwarted Koy Shan. The Shadow had delivered it.

Then, as Cardona again ordered Cubitt to watch his prisoner, the form of The Shadow seemed to blend with

darkness. A swish of the black cloak; the weird figure was gone. Joe Cardona started up the stairs.

Even though he knew The Shadow to be a friend, Cardona was impressed by a sense of awe as he reached the

top of the staircase. The sight of four Chinamen sprawled upon the hallway floor brought a gasp from the

Barton Schofield's door was on the left. Cardona seized the knob. The door was unlocked. Cardona opened it

and turned on the light. Barton Schofield was half out of bed, trembling as he stared toward the man who had

"Trouble," returned Cardona briefly. "They were here to get you, Mr. Schofield, but we" Cardona paused

sheepishly as he gave the plural pronoun well, we managed to bag them. Lie down you're all right."

Barton Schofield nodded obediently and rolled back into bed. The old man lay face upward, trembling

slightly as he pulled the covers about his neck. Cardona made sure that there was no one in the room; then

turned out the light and closed the door. He recalled then, that Schofield, in bed, would not be likely to arise

in the darkness to turn the key; but the detective decided that it would be unnecessary.

CARDONA hurried to the head of the staircase, and was greeted by a shout from a young man below. One of

the guests was guarding the captured Chinaman. The prisoner was helplessly bound with belts.

"Say" the guest was giving information to Cardona "the crowd has gone outside to round up any others

that may have gotten away. That lawyer chap is with them the one with the revolver. Maybe you'd better

With a growl, Cardona hurried down the staircase. He ran out on the veranda, and heard shouts coming from

the lawn at the left. Leaping the rail, Cardona saw a flashlight in the hand of a guest. Its rays revealed a

A revolver spoke. Cubitt had fired. The Chinaman kept on. Another shot a third the man who had

claimed skill at target practice was proving his inability to hit a moving object. The range was too great for

The warning went unheeded. The fool with the flashlight deliberately approached the tree where the

Chinaman was hiding. Before Cardona could give another order, two other guests had stepped within the

range of light. The Chinaman leaped into view, aiming a revolver at the nearest of the unarmed men.

Cardona fired a futile shot. He knew that at this distance, his bullet would go wide.

At the same instant, an automatic roared from the second story of the mansion. Cardona saw the Chinaman

collapse. The detective turned quickly and stared toward the house; but there was no clew to the window

But Cardona knew the identity of the hand that had delivered that rescuing bullet. The cannonlike roar of a

mammoth .45; the perfection of the aim at distant range those betokened the presence of The Shadow.

Once again, the master hand had intervened. Now, Cardona was shouting orders that were heeded. The

imminence of death had cowed the bravado spirits of these guests who had begun the Chinese roundup.

It was lucky, Cardona knew, that The Shadow was still on the second floor. He had probably heard the shots

which Cubitt had fired, and had come to deliver his timely aid. Cardona glanced toward the house once more,

He did not see the shape that was descending from the window by the trellis. The Shadow, who knew the

While the blackclad phantom was slowly circling the rear of the Schofield mansion, Cardona led Cubitt and

"Go on up," he told Cubitt. "Make sure that Mr. Schofield is no longer alarmed. I'm going around beneath his

Cardona prowled to the appointed spot. He waited, flashing an electric torch toward the rear of the house.

Although he glanced in that direction, he did not see the shape of The Shadow, pressed against the rear corner

Lights flashed in the upstairs room. Then came a loud, hoarse cry. George Cubitt's face appeared from the

window. Seeing the detective below, the young lawyer proclaimed a startling discovery.

"Barton Schofield is gone!" he shouted. "Someone has grabbed him! Bedclothes ripped away chair

At that very instant, a motor roared in the front driveway. Swinging his flashlight, Cardona bounded in that

direction. He knew what the noise meant. New abductors had been lurking here; they had seized the old

CARDONA was a sprinter. He neared the drive just as a car was starting away. Behind him, traveling

At the wheel of a large sedan, Cardona spotted the venomous countenance of a yellowfaced driver. This was

the fiend who was driving away with Barton Schofield absolutely helpless in his power.

Up came Cardona's revolver. But before the detective could shoot down that insidious monster that snarled

with its bulging teeth, an unexpected enemy leaped forward from a bush beside the drive.

The last of the missing Chinamen had been lying here! With upraised knife, he fell upon Joe Cardona, and

Thirty feet behind Cardona, The Shadow, unseen in the darkness, had begun to raise his automatic as

Cardona had lifted his revolver. That fiendish countenance in the sedan, visible to The Shadow in the glare

But before The Shadow pressed the trigger, the last Chinaman thwarted Joe Cardona. The detective's light

tumbled as its owner fell. Blackness covered the sedan, and Joe Cardona lay at the point of death, a dim

In this emergency, The Shadow responded by diverted aim. Darkness increased the difficulty, but the glow of

the flashlight upon the ground gave him a surer target than the cowering form in the moving sedan.

The Shadow fired, not at the car, but at the Chinaman who was about to stab the detective. Once twice

the automatic roared. The Chinaman toppled from Cardona's body. For the second time tonight, The Shadow

The automatic did not cease. It roared a cannonade as The Shadow shot through darkness in hope of stopping

Though he fired blindly, The Shadow was uncanny in his skill. Two of his bullets were neatly directed after

the unseen target. One brought the clattering crash of a shattered windshield; the other smashed through a

It was the driver of that speeding car not The Shadow who was lucky. Either bullet, had it landed but a

few inches from the actual place it struck, would have crippled either the fiend at the wheel or the car itself.

The rescue of Joe Cardona had permitted the sedan to escape. It was too late now to stop it. The Shadow

moved rapidly across the lawn toward the lane; then stopped. He knew that pursuit would this time be in

Joe Cardona was on his feet. His flashlight played upon the features of the dying Chinaman. Grimly, the

detective was speaking to this man. The almond eyes opened. Deliriously, the Mongol raised one hand and

A rattle followed. The eyes closed. The Chinaman was dead. Joe Cardona growled in perplexity.

To Joe Cardona, the word was no clew. But the detective was not the only one who had heard the dying

utterance. A tall, phantom figure, standing shrouded in the darkness, had listened to the Mongol's gasp, and

That fiendish figure at the wheel of the escaping sedan had been Kwa, the Living Joss! The hidden power in

Chinatown, the venomous creature who dealt in evil, was responsible for the disappearance of the wealthy

Yet, even though Kwa had escaped, the laugh of The Shadow sounded as a sinister whisper upon the spaces

THE Chinese invasion which had resulted in the abduction of old Barton Schofield made a frontpage

newspaper story that persisted to hold the largest headlines through to the evening editions. At six o'clock the

following evening, nearly twentyfour hours after the banker had been kidnapped, Doctor Ward Zelka was

Someone jostled against the table. Doctor Zelka looked up, and raised his eyebrows in surprise as he saw

David Moultrie. With a sour grin that added no attraction to his largetoothed mouth, the stock manipulator

"Well enough," said Moultrie, with a low laugh. "Looks like things are going good for the Huxley

"I don't like it," declared Zelka, in a hushed tone. "What's more, I don't like being with you, Moultrie, even in

With these words, Zelka peered from the booth. Seeing that he and Moultrie were well away from listening

"Rather drastic, don't you think?" questioned Zelka suavely. "Two murders and an abduction?"

"Yes," confessed Moultrie slowly. "I don't like crime, Zelka, even when it works to my advantage. I may be

Zelka was listening intently to the stock manipulator's words. He did not notice that two young men had

arrived in the next booth. Harry Vincent and Clyde Burke, agents of The Shadow, had met outside of

Brindle's restaurant. Together, they were seeking to edge in on the conversation between the men whom they

"You don't like it, eh?" questioned Zelka. "Even though it is to your advantage; even though the idea was

"Suggested to me?" Moultrie glowered. "Say, you aren't trying to pin this mess on me, are you? If I thought

Zelka's eyes narrowed. The physician seemed to be waiting the rest of Moultrie's threat. It did not come. The

"I was merely making an impersonal remark," declared Zelka. "Sometimes, people take unusual measures

when they see a way to easy gain. Murder? Nothing was further from my mind, Moultrie, when I told you

that the elimination of Hartnett and Goodall would pave the way to a quiet deal with old man Schofield."

"Look here, Zelka," returned Moultrie, in a bold tone. "You've been reading the paper it's right here on the

"Well from my standpoint. A flock of Chinese are in back of these murders that is, if the murders are

"I can't even make out a Chinese laundry ticket," insisted the stock manipulator. "But when it comes to

knowing something about China, you're the berries. You've been there. I'll bet you know the language

"Nothing." Moultrie became suddenly calm. "I only mean this. We both stand to profit by the way that things

DOCTOR ZELKA smiled. "When unusual circumstances arise," declared the physician, "it is sometimes

advisable to take advantage of them without going too deeply into their source. I have found that a policy,

"That you and I through the conditions which now exist are able to proceed with a very definite plan of

"It so happens," interposed Zelka suavely, "that we are very much in the same boat. It does not matter"

Zelka paused to insert a cigarette in his goldbanded holder "what has caused the deaths of Hartnett and

Goodall, or who has chosen to abduct old Schofield. That is a problem for the police to handle. Our interest

David Moultrie grinned in a knowing manner. Doctor Zelka continued to speak in his suave tone.

"Suppose," he suggested, "that my analysis regarding these three men had caused you to take some action

regarding them." Zelka, with a wave of his hand, stopped the beginning of Moultrie's protest. "What would

"Certain people the police for instance would say that Moultrie and Zelka had much in common. Too

much, perhaps. Therefore, Moultrie, your interests are ones that draw mine along with them. Is that plain?"

"I am connecting you with nothing," interrupted Zelka smoothly. "I am coming to the other side of the story.

Suppose that my suggestion to you the one regarding the three men who are now eliminated had been a

thought which I intended to put into practice. Very well; what would be said, now that circumstances exist as

"I shall tell you, Moultrie. People the police included would say that whatever Zelka did, Moultrie would

The stock manipulator grinned sourly. He studied the physician's face. At last he shrugged his shoulders and

"Whatever you've done, I'll be blamed," said Moultrie. "I guess you're right, Zelka. Well, there's no getting

"Not a chance," declared Zelka. "In fact, Moultrie, if I had acted let us say criminally I would certainly

expect to have you share the blame with me, inasmuch as you would share the profits if all went well.

"Conversely, I would not expect you to deal otherwise with me assuming that you had gone to the great

trouble of producing crime. I shall be frank, Moultrie. I do not approve of murder any more than do you.

Steady gazes met. Moultrie tried to laugh matters off with a nasty leer. Zelka responded with a suave smile,

"UNDER the circumstances," remarked Zelka, "my advice that we should avoid each other's company is

"You're right about that," returned Moultrie. "I was a fool to look for you here tonight. I just was curious, that

"People who are worried," stated Zelka, "usually have some burden upon their minds. However" his tone

turned to a soothing purr "you need not worry so far as I am concerned. As for Huxley stock, that can wait.

Goodall is not here to make his statement. Hartnett can no longer influence Schofield. Perhaps" the

physician's tone was thoughtful "we shall hear from the old banker before long."

"Suppose we don't hear from Schofield?" he said, in a cautious tone. "Suppose something has happened to

"If we do not hear from Schofield," answered Zelka calmly, "we can proceed with our purchases of Huxley

"Until we see how they make out with their Chinese theories. Their investigations may end in a blind result."

David Moultrie shifted and arose from the table. He was nodding as he went. Ward Zelka followed him with

"We'll leave it as is," was Moultrie's final statement, given in a tone of resignation.

DOCTOR WARD ZELKA lighted another cigarette after the stock manipulator had gone. He smoked in

silence, then arose and strolled from the restaurant. He passed the booth in which Harry Vincent was now

With Clyde Burke, Harry had caught snatches of the conversation between Moultrie and Zelka. They had

each made notes; then Clyde had been forced to leave when Moultrie had departed. Now, in his turn, Harry

The physician strolled along Broadway, still puffing at his cigarette holder. He had the air of a man who

intended to idle, until his eyes noted a Chinatown bus parked at Fortyseventh Street. Zelka paused to listen

to the barker's spiel. He shook his head as the man tried to inveigle him into taking the trip.

Strolling farther on, Zelka glance back over his shoulder. The lanterns on the bus seemed to suggest some

thought to him. He suddenly hailed a taxicab, and ordered the driver to take him to an East Side elevated

When Zelka alighted, he noticed a train approaching. He hastened up the steps, dropped a nickel in the coin

box, and caught the train just as it was pulling away. Five seconds later, Harry Vincent arrived on the same

Was it by accident or by design that Doctor Ward Zelka had eluded the man who was following him? Was it

through chance or definite purpose that the physician happened to appear within the Chinese district less than

Strolling in the neighborhood of Mott and Pell, Doctor Zelka paused frequently. He was listening to snatches

of Chinese lingo. Once he waited long as he heard a low voice pronounce the strange, mysterious name of

The physician turned away from the passing throngs just as a uniformed guide appeared with a herd of

sightseers in his wake. None of this crowd saw Doctor Ward Zelka; the physician had strolled away a few

Near the rear of the throng came Hugo Urvin, lounging along with the air of a bored observer. Behind him

strolled a tall, impassivefeatured man, whose eyes were strangely cold and unflinching.

Once more, the minion of Kwa had come to Chinatown. Again, he was followed by another visitor to this

strange district. New crime was brewing. Hugo Urvin was to play his part. Above the budding plans of Kwa

His thwarting power hidden from the knowledge of the Living Joss, the master of darkness was again

IT was nearly midnight when someone rang the bell of David Moultrie's apartment. A sleepy voice responded

through the lobby telephone. The visitor announced himself as Hugo Urvin. He mentioned names of mutual

Moultrie's apartment was a small one on the third floor. The stock manipulator, attired in pajamas and

dressing gown, admitted the man who had come to see him. He waved Hugo Urvin to a chair.

The apartment consisted of an entry and a living room, with one bedroom adjoining. The living room was of

ample size, with an unusually high ceiling. The first objects of furniture that Irwin noted were a table in the

"Sorry to have aroused you," remarked Urvin. "I was afraid I wouldn't get you in the office tomorrow

morning. I have some investments to make. I was recommended to you, Mr. Moultrie "

"Oil, preferably," said Urvin. "I'm willing to take a flyer to the tune of ten thousand. But I want something

Moultrie retained his smile. He sat down at the table, opened a drawer, and drew out a packet of papers. He

began to work upon this customer. Men who had ten thousand to invest were not frequent. Speculative oil!

Hugo Urvin puffed his cigar contentedly. The young man felt a real satisfaction. He had come here, not to

invest in phony stock, but to study the lay of the apartment. He was performing the same duty which he had

A message from Kwa. A little curio with hundreddollar bills about it. A sheet of wrapping paper which had

peeled apart. A message which had disappeared in a smokeless flare. Instructions to come here and prepare

Hugo Urvin was reviewing these matters. To him, Moultrie was another unsuspecting dupe. It never occurred

to Urvin that he, himself, had been watched in his own apartment; that the message from Kwa had been read

THE sinister presence of The Shadow had trailed Hugo Urvin as before; again, that presence had been veiled.

The door from the entry had opened by inches. Burning eyes were peering through a narrow crack. They

could see Urvin as he studied the bookcase beyond Moultrie's bowed back. The Shadow observed the smile

"Three good propositions," declared Moultrie, bobbing up from the table drawer. "Here they are."

He planked a wad of stock certificates on the table, and began to remove a rubber band. Hugo Urvin stopped

"Leave that to me," grinned Moultrie. "Oil stock, Mr. Urvin" the manipulator was speaking the truth "is

often a gamble. Remember, I am warning you in advance. I have other stocks that are less speculative.

"Suppose," interposed Urvin, "that we get together definitely tomorrow. I deal in cash, Mr. Moultrie. I intend

"I can't make it, Mr. Moultrie. You see, I am running up to Hartford my home city to draw out the money

"Very well. You can, of course, give me a note now, if you wish to hold these securities."

"I would prefer to wait until tomorrow night," said Urvin, picking up his cane as he arose. "I shall have the

money, then. It will give you time to pick out the best shares which I require. Please outline alternative plans,

David Moultrie shook hands warmly. The entry door closed gradually. A long streak of blackness slid along

the floor. That projecting blotch had stretched almost to Hugo Urvin's chair. When Moultrie opened the door

When Hugo Urvin had gone, David Moultrie rubbed his palms and indulged in a gloating chuckle. A fly had

walked into the spider's living room. Moultrie chucked the stock certificates into the drawer. He wrote down

MEANWHILE, Hugo Urvin was swinging his cane jauntily as he strolled along the street. He waved his

David Moultrie had fallen for his game. Tomorrow night at half past ten? Hugo Urvin knew well that he

He had spied effectively tonight. Tomorrow evening, David Moultrie would receive an unexpected visitor

instead of Hugo Urvin. Kwa's minion was still considering the situation when he alighted from his taxicab,

Shortly afterward, another cab rolled along the same street. Doctor Ward Zelka stepped out and paid the

driver. The physician was smoking his inevitable cigarette. He entered his own apartment building, in a

Ward Zelka was invariably thoughtful after he had paid a belated visit to the Chinese district. He had long felt

the lure of Chinatown. Mixing with quaint Orientals, listening to their language, with which he was familiar,

gave Zelka the same feeling of keen interest that he had experienced during his travels in the Far East.

The side street was vaguely quiet. Darkness shrouded the fronts of the apartment buildings. A blotch of black

faded as it passed the glow of a street lamp. That patch of gliding darkness was the sign of The Shadow.

David Moultrie Hugo Urvin Ward Zelka. Each had a part in the drama of strange crime that was

AT nine the next evening, a Chinatown bus stopped at its usual corner. Hugo Urvin was among the

passengers who left the vehicle. In his pocket he carried another package which he had taken from the hands

Half past ten. That was the hour when David Moultrie would be at home. Hugo Urvin smiled. He would hold

no conference with the stock manipulator tonight. Instead, he would seek the seclusion of his own apartment,

A slouching, listless man had stepped from the bus with Hugo Urvin. This stranger bore no physical

resemblance to the calmfaced person who had previously made the same trips that Urvin had taken. Yet

there was a likeness. The silhouette that this man cast upon the sidewalk was identical with the one which the

A similarity which no one would ever have noticed. Yet it was the indication of The Shadow's presence! In

another disguise, the master of the night had secretly been Urvin's companion on a visit to Chon Look's

When Hugo Urvin took the uptown subway, the stranger did not follow him. Instead, the man hailed a

taxicab, and gave the driver an address. From a package which he carried a bundle which was compact, yet

not small the disguised traveler removed a black cloak and slouch hat. He donned these garments in the

A piece of paper fluttered through the window, and landed beside the taxi driver as the man halted his cab

near a corner apartment house. Picking it up, the taximan found that it was currency. Looking backward, the

driver was amazed to see that the cab was empty. The passenger had mysteriously departed.

Meanwhile, Hugo Urvin was trudging through the door of his apartment. He lighted the corner lamp, and

pulled the package from his pocket. Another gift from Kwa. Off came the wrapping. Urvin found a box

No money? Urvin was puzzled. He picked up the wrapping paper and separated it. He read the message. It

Urvin became excited. He felt a strange sensation of relief from bondage. No longer a minion of Kwa, he

could again lead a life of idleness, provided only that sufficient reward lay within that box!

Gold? No; the box was too light. Urvin smiled. He had visions of some valuable gem, a gift which could be

THE young man manipulated the box. He paid no attention to the flare which Kwa's final message made

upon the table. The box was a tricky one; it could be broken if it would not unlock. Urvin pressed the

Snap! The box collapsed under the pressure. Hugo Urvin uttered a sharp cry as a powerful spring clamped

upon his fingers, and he felt the jab of needle points. His left hand was caught in a trap. He managed to

remove a metal snapper that had seized him. Angrily, he examined his fingers by the lamplight.

Red marks where the needles had jabbed. Livid marks that were becoming puffy. A sickening sensation

gripped Hugo Urvin. He clutched the edge of the table. He felt his legs waver beneath him. He tried to

scream, but his throat muscles seemed paralyzed along with the rest of his body.

There was a thud as Urvin's form toppled to the floor. The young man moved no more. Hugo Urvin had

received the reward of Kwa. His usefulness had ended. The victim of a virulent Oriental poison, he would no

Something moved at the window. The spidery form of Chun Shi clambered into the room. The crafty slayer

had been stationed here at Kwa's command, ready to act should the poison have failed.

Death had struck without the aid of Chun Shi, but there were other duties for the creature to perform. Swiftly,

Chun Shi gathered up the odd objects which Hugo Urvin had received in the Buddhist shrine. The wise

monkeys, the green elephant, finally, the steel trap which had sprung its needle points of doom.

Even the unwritten half of ricepaper wrapping was not omitted. Chun Shi slipped toward the window with

the clews in his possession. His form became a crablike object that went sidewise along the wall to the

There was further work for Chun Shi tonight. This minion of Kwa was a lone agent, now that Koy Shan had

died in combat with The Shadow. Kwa was employing the aid of craft, since he had lost his mighty helper.

Yet Kwa, himself, had shown a subtle cunning in his final dealing with Hugo Urvin. He had played upon the

unscrupulous young man's greed for cash. He had known the secrecy that Urvin would employ in opening the

Through the simple medium of a gift from Chon Look, the Buddhist, Kwa had arranged a quick ending for

Had The Shadow divined Kwa's intentions? Had the master of darkness let Hugo Urvin go to the fate which

he deserved? Only The Shadow knew, and he was elsewhere tonight. Hugo Urvin's living room was deserted

A motionless corpse, its features reddening under the touch of the poison which had delivered death. Such

DETECTIVE JOE CARDONA was pacing his office. The clock upon the wall indicated ten. The sleuth was

expressing keen annoyance. A stack of papers upon his desk meant nothing but fruitless investigation.

The Chinese invasion that had resulted in the abduction of Barton Schofield had led to a blind trail. Cardona

had learned the identity of Koy Shan, but that was all. The man was a tough character of Chinatown. No one

Cardona, himself, had traveled to the Chinese district, but to no avail. Other detectives had reported; not one

Cardona had suspected that some insidious power might be in back of Koy Shan, but except for the words of

the Chinaman who had died upon the lawn, Cardona had gained no inkling to the strange identity of Kwa.

Cardona had forgotten the delirious cry. He had forgotten, also, the remarks that Barton Schofield had made

prior to his abduction. But now, with no other clews at hand, the ace detective had suddenly recalled certain

Cardona scratched his head. He had been a fool to forget all this! The Chinese business had swept him

"Say, Markham" Cardona called to the detective sergeant who was in an adjoining office "come here a

minute and tell me something. Did you ever hear of a name that sounded something like chickens?"

"Maybe," said Cardona thoughtfully. "It doesn't have to be like chickens, though. Let's see. It might be fowl

no, that couldn't be it. Ducks, geese what do you call them all? I mean in a bunch. Wait! Maybe it's

"This is serious," growled Cardona. "Something that old Barton Schofield told me, before they grabbed him.

He spoke of two men a guy that deals in phony stock, and a doctor. The first one has a name something like

"You know of a fellow by that name?" demanded Cardona quickly. "A stock manipulator."

"Yeah," nodded Markham. "He isn't a phony, though. We had some complaints a few months ago, from

people who had bought shares from him. The stock had gone sour; but there wasn't anything to keep Moultrie

Cardona snatched up the telephone book and searched for the name of David Moultrie. He found two

"That's where I'm going," he informed Markham. "Stick here, in case I want you."

IT was just half past ten when Joe Cardona arrived at David Moultrie's apartment house. The detective went

upstairs and listened intently at the door of Moultrie's apartment. He heard someone coming along the hall,

Moultrie's grin turned to a look of surprise. He had mistaken Cardona for Hugo Urvin.

Cardona wagged his thumb toward the door as he spoke. Moultrie nodded and produced a key. He fumbled as

With Cardona at his heels, the stock manipulator turned on the light in the entry. Cardona was still close by

"Say" Cardona, in his challenge, wanted a pretext that would prove misleading "who were you expecting

"A man named Hugo Urvin," returned Moultrie, in a relieved tone. "He is buying stock from me. A good,

"Is there one?" quizzed Cardona gruffly. "That doesn't sound so good, Moultrie. When was this fellow Urvin

"We'll wait a while, then," decided Cardona. "Maybe we can chat a bit while we're waiting. So you sell good

"Say something," growled the detective. "What kind of stock, for instance? Ever in on any really big deals?"

"Yes," said Moultrie nervously. "Er I should say seldom. Pardon me if I appear worried. This was an

"It is unusual," agreed Moultrie, affecting a grin. "Urvin had to go to Hartford. I didn't expect him until now.

"What sort of a fellow is this man Urvin?" asked Cardona casually. "What's his occupation? Is he a

"I don't know a thing about him," insisted Moultrie. "He came here as a stranger, only last night. Said that he

had money to invest. Say" the man's tone became suddenly defiant "what's going on, anyway? Is this a

Moultrie waved his hand toward the instrument, which rested on the table. Cardona lifted the receiver, and

"This is Cardona," informed Joe. "Markham, I want you to look up a man named Hugo Urvin. He's late for an

appointment down here... Yes, I'm at Moultrie's... Find out where Urvin lives, and run up there... No, don't

Cardona was thumbing the pages of a telephone directory while he talked. He found Urvin's listing, noted the

"I'm going back to headquarters," added Cardona emphatically. "I'll be waiting there when you return."

THE detective hung up the receiver and looked at David Moultrie. There was something about the stock

The detective decided to play an unusual ruse; one which he had often worked before. The first step was to

suddenly show his hand; the second to give his quarry an unexpected opportunity.

"So you sell stocks, eh?" questioned Cardona. "Well, we're interested in some funny business that's going on

in that line. Have you any customers who have been trying to buy shares of a stock called Huxley

"Not that I can recall," returned Moultrie. The man was on his guard now. "There are so many stocks "

"I know," nodded Cardona. "Well, if you know anything about this Huxley stock, I want to find it out. If this

fellow Urvin says that he is going to buy some, I'll have some more questions to ask you. But Urvin's not the

Cardona's eyes were on the door to the entry. With an abrupt ending to his statement, the detective went to

the door and closed it as he departed. Out of view from David Moultrie, he clicked the latch of the outer door

so that he could reopen it. Cardona closed the door and crouched in the corridor beyond.

The detective was timing his actions. He had given David Moultrie something to worry about. If the stock

manipulator was involved in some criminal activity, it was a sure bet that he would now behave suspiciously.

Perhaps he would sneak to the corridor; perhaps he would try to call someone by telephone. Cardona had

paved the way for a call to Urvin by dispatching Markham to the other man's apartment.

Whatever happened, Cardona was ready to pounce in at the earliest moment. The detective rested his hand

upon the doorknob. He had handled cases like this before. He would give David Moultrie at least three

Three minutes! Much could happen in that space of time! Within his apartment, David Moultrie, at his table,

was totally oblivious to a menace which threatened him. From the narrow space between the huge bookcase

Then came the body a rounded shape in contrast to the spiderlike arms. An evil form hung forward, ready

for a tremendous spring. Its target was David Moultrie, five feet beneath. One fierce leap; this creature could

Moultrie was staring dully toward the halfopened door of the bedroom, which lay straight ahead. He fancied

that the blackness there was impenetrable. It seemed to be a warning of impending danger.

Moultrie half arose from his table. At the same instant, the creature from the bookcase launched itself on a

terrible leap. Simultaneously, a terrific roar issued from the darkness of the bedroom; with it came a long

David Moultrie cowered as he cried aloud in startled fear. The longlimbed creature that was diving forward

seemed to spin sidewise in midair. Its spidery shape struck Moultrie on the shoulder, and staggered the

frightened man; then the misshapen body plunged against the top of the table and hurtled to the floor.

The door burst open. Joe Cardona, revolver in hand, leaped into the room. The detective stopped short as he

saw Moultrie cringing against the bookcase staring at the writhing, spidery creature upon the floor.

Cardona looked toward the top of the bookcase; then to the halfopened bedroom door. The heavy roar of the

Someone a being of amazing skill and foresight had been awaiting this event. A steady hand had aimed at

this strange creature who had been dropping down upon an unsuspecting man below.

The Shadow, unfailing in his power, had delivered death to Chun Shi, the Crafty!

DETECTIVE JOE CARDONA was facing David Moultrie across the table in the stock manipulator's living

room. Men were coming from headquarters in answer to Cardona's summons. Orders had been left for

Cardona had searched the bedroom to find it empty. The detective had expected as much. The window,

opening beside a fire tower, had offered quick egress for The Shadow. Cardona was concerned now with the

"They were after me!" blurted Moultrie, staring at Cardona with a wild gaze. "Out to get me like they got

"I'll tell you!" Moultrie's voice was a hoarse scream. "It was Doctor Zelka Ward Zelka! I was the only one

left who would know about about the chance to clean up on Huxley stock. He he was afraid I'd blab to

"He was playing this alone, I tell you!" gasped Moultrie. "I was afraid he was doing all this. But I wasn't sure

"He had Huxley stock. He wanted me to buy him more. Schofield wouldn't play the game. That's why Zelka

Moultrie pointed to Chun Shi's body as he spoke. Cardona was forced to nod at the sight of the proof which

the frenzied man indicated. This creature was a murderous one, a link with that fiendish yellow face which

Someone was rapping at the door. Cardona admitted two detectives. After a few brief instructions regarding

"All right," announced the detective, "you say you're on the level. This looks like a break for you. Someone

thought enough of your welfare to bag this big spider from the other room. Instead of being dead, you're

"I don't know a thing about him," confessed Moultrie. "I I don't see how he could be mixed in it. He came

Cardona's gaze rose to the top of the bookcase. The sleuth saw what Moultrie had ignored; that a murderer

Cardona smiled. He was beginning to be convinced of Moultrie's absolute innocence. The detective pondered

as he rested his hand upon the telephone. Suddenly, the bell rang. Cardona raised the receiver. It was

"What!" Cardona's voice was tense. "Dead? How? Looks like a poison case? Stay there... Yes... Keep your

Joe Cardona replaced the receiver and looked directly at David Moultrie. He saw a look of dumbfoundedness

"Hugo Urvin is dead," declared Cardona quietly. "Murdered. In his own apartment. Listen, now, Moultrie.

WHILE Joe Cardona was discussing the affairs of Doctor Ward Zelka, the physician, himself, was entering

his own apartment. He had come from the opposite direction tonight, and had apparently not observed the

confusion which existed outside of the nearby building in which Hugo Urvin had died.

As Zelka closed the door of his apartment, his foot slid against a piece of paper on the floor. The physician

turned on the light and picked up a folded note. He opened it, and a stern glint appeared in his eyes as he

Strolling across the floor, Zelka again read the note; then rolled it between his palms and tossed it into the

wastebasket. He sat down, adjusted a cigarette in his holder, and emitted an odd chuckle.

A curling smile flickered on the physician's lips. His sallow face was crafty in the gloomy room. Ward Zelka

Quietly, the physician picked up the desk telephone and dialed a number. He was calling the apartment of

David Moultrie. He heard the bell ringing, and he nodded with a wise smile. Then, to his surprise, a voice

The tones were those of David Moultrie, but Zelka was quick to notice a forced sound in the voice. He heard

"Hello," remarked Zelka quietly. "Tell me, Moultrie, is anyone there with you at present?... Yes... This is

The physician heard a gasp that was evidently partially covered by a hand pressed over the mouthpiece at the

other end of the wire. Then came a gruff, demanding voice. A look of alarm appeared momentarily upon

The police were at David Moultrie's. Zelka had identified the gruff voice as of a detective. Zelka saw a

menace in the presence of the law. He knew well that other sleuths might be on their way here. In Manhattan,

the forces of the law move swiftly. Yanking open a desk drawer, Doctor Zelka seized a bundle of papers. He

grabbed his hat and overcoat. He hastened from the apartment, not waiting long enough to extinguish the

corner lamp. He did not go toward the elevator; instead, he headed for the fire tower.

Minutes drifted. The door opened and a figure entered the deserted apartment. The Shadow came into the

range of light. A keen, spectral observer, he saw the opened drawer. His searching eyes looked everywhere.

Standing by the desk, The Shadow glanced downward. He spotted the crumpled ball of paper which Zelka

The Shadow understood. Zelka, upon entering here, had been calm and secure of mind. He had tossed some

message into the basket, figuring that no one could ever find it; then, in sudden haste after a startling

The gloved hand of The Shadow plucked the wad from the basket. The paper crinkled as The Shadow

smoothed it. The keen eyes scanned the Chinese inscription. Instantly, The Shadow knew who had delivered

The terse statement of success at Hugo Urvin's. An announcement that the crafty slayer had departed for his

scheduled destination at David Moultrie's. The words were written with the precision of a report sheet. A soft

laugh came from hidden lips as The Shadow continued to scan the paper. Then, suddenly, the gloved hand

Swiftly, The Shadow gained the door of the apartment. His tall figure glided past a turn in the corridor, just as

Detective Sergeant Markham and two other men arrived upon the scene. The trio had come without undue

The Shadow, like Doctor Zelka, was gone. The darkness of Manhattan had swallowed the fleeing physician

and the blackgarbed master as well. Markham had found an empty apartment. The Shadow had taken the

LIGHTS of Chinatown were glimmering. A dark blotch loomed along the yellowish sidewalk at an obscure

corner not far from the center of this district. It was the only sign of The Shadow's presence.

Eyes peered into shops along a narrow alley. The Shadow, firm in the knowledge that crime was halted for

the time, had come hither to burrow deeply into the secret ways of Kwa, the Living Joss.

Hugo Urvin had died tonight. David Moultrie had been saved from doom. Doctor Ward Zelka had

disappeared. The Shadow, knowing all these facts from his own activities, had begun a new and emphatic

The law had moved. Its mechanism, started by Detective Joe Cardona, was in heavy action now. But The

THE next night found Detective Joe Cardona engaged in conference with Inspector Timothy Klein. The star

sleuth was emphatically propounding his beliefs regarding the disappearance of Doctor Ward Zelka.

"Moultrie has told us plenty," he informed the inspector. "He and Zelka stood in line to make some real

dough if Hartnett, Goodall, and Schofield were out. Zelka mentioned that very fact, so Moultrie says.

"Then two men died and one disappeared. Moultrie was ready to squeal, but he didn't know for sure. He was

afraid it would put him in wrong because Zelka was so foxy. He's given us the Chinese tieup. Zelka is pretty

"Now here's the lineup," insisted Cardona. "There's only one way it could have been worked. A big shot in

Chinatown a smart man buried there giving orders to the Chinese. Believe me, that's what Zelka has been

"I've been looking into matters down there," remarked Cardona. "No luck, until late last night. Then, just after

all this had come out, one of my men came in to tell me that he had gotten wind of some big Mogul down in

"That's all. No definite clews. But I'm after one; and I'm playing a hunch. Listen, inspector. This guy, Hugo

Urvin. He must have been in it kind of deep. That funny way he was poisoned well, I think he picked up

"That's it. Now we can't find out anything from them. But a great idea hit me. There aren't many Americans

around Chinatown. All right; any Americans down there would be the best ones to spot another American,

"Yes," agreed Klein, "but you're talking in circles, Joe. You just said there are no Americans down there "

"Not many living down there," interrupted Cardona, with a wise grin, "but some who are there a lot. Those

"Yes," smiled Cardona, "I've got them coming in to see the body. Over at the morgue one by one to look

at Hugo Urvin. That's where I'm headed right now. Markham is on the job, talking with the first ones who

WHEN Joe Cardona reached the morgue, he was greeted by Markham. The detective sergeant seemed

excited. He hurried Cardona to the room where Hugo Urvin's body lay. A uniformed Chinatown guide was

"The bloke who made about three trips with me," responded the guide. "Say what do you want to know

"We figure he had business in Chinatown," declared Cardona. "You say he was on your bus three trips. Did

"Suspiciously?" queried the guide. "Say after you've seen Chinatown once the way we show it you've

seen it forever. This is the first mug I ever saw make a repeat trip that is, alone. That's suspicious, ain't it?"

"No place where he could have stopped off to see anyone? No way he could have received some message

The guide was slowly shaking his head. Suddenly he began to blink. He gripped Cardona's arm excitedly, and

"I got it!" was the guide's cry. "There's a phony Buddhist temple down there a racket run by a man named

Chon Look. Say there's something that guy does that I've never figured out. Every now and then he gives

"There's no telling when he's going to do it. I just figured it was some fool idea. You can't ever figure what

the Chinese are thinking about anyway. But maybe this guy got a package there. Come to think of it, I believe

"That's enough." Cardona turned to Markham. "We'll go down there and raid this temple. No wait a

"Nothing but one room," explained the guide. "I don't know what's in back of it "

"Make a diagram," ordered Cardona. "You know the district. Show me streets and all."

The guide went to a table, and drew a rough map. Cardona noticed that the shrine of Chon Look fronted on a

narrow street, midway in a block. The detective tapped the diagram with his finger.

"There may be a hideout in back of Chon Look's," asserted the detective. "If there is, it will have another

entrance. Not on this lighted street here but we'll have the regular patrol watching there anyway.

"We're going to spreadout, Markham. We're not going down there in wagons. We'll load a whole crew of

plainclothes men in this fellow's bus, and let him take us to the temple. When we get there, we spread. Get

it? Into every door on those three streets, with the men in uniform on the fourth side. Come along!"

HALF an hour later, a big Chinatown bus rolled into a garage. More than thirty men piled through the door,

The huge vehicle lumbered to Fortysecond Street. It went eastward on that thoroughfare to Broadway. It

took up the usual route toward Chinatown. The guide at the front seat began his usual jocular line of patter as

Herding together, they followed the guide as he turned into a narrow alley toward the twinkling lights of

Close behind the guide was Detective Joe Cardona, with Markham at his side. The detail was on its way to

A spectacular raid was on tonight one that had been planned by a clever sleuth. Joe Cardona had stolen an

idea from the Living Joss. He was using Kwa's own method of bringing Americans to Chinatown in a fashion

Where Kwa had smuggled in one passenger aboard a bus, Cardona had unloaded a raiding squad of thirty

WHILE Joe Cardona and his men were approaching the lighted streets of Chinatown, a quietfaced

American was standing in the shop of Soy Foon. His keen eyes, peering through the door of the back room,

The American strolled away. He reached the darkness of a side alley. He disappeared in a tiny space between

two walls. He did not emerge. In his place came a swish as the folds of a cloak swept through the air.

Like Joe Cardona, The Shadow had divined that there must be a hidden room behind the Buddhist shrine of

Chon Look. Also, The Shadow knew that the secret apartment would have another outlet.

As a visitor to the shrine, The Shadow had noticed the oddshaped rack against the wall. He had identified it

as the probable entrance to a secret passage. In the shop of Soy Foon, a block away, The Shadow had spotted

The secret portals to Kwa's hidden temple! The Shadow knew them both. Yet he had made no attempt to

enter either one. Instead, he had searched for another and more subtle way of entrance.

Well did The Shadow know that the mysterious man who posed as a Living Joss would never go in and out

by either of these routes. Some other passage must exist one that would be known to Kwa alone!

A soft laugh came from hidden lips. The Shadow had searched long to find that spot not in the block where

both the shrine and the curio shop were located, but in places that were more remote.

Tonight, The Shadow had gained success. He was ready to invade the hidden lair of Kwa. But before he set

out upon that mission, The Shadow had come to see that all was well at Soy Foon's and Chon Look's.

By summoning two agents, The Shadow could have men watch those outlets while he, himself, investigated

Reaching the alleyway upon which the Buddhist shrine fronted, The Shadow drew back into the darkness of a

wall. A party of sightseers were approaching, headed by a guide. As The Shadow watched, the uniformed

man turned into the doorway that led to the Buddhist shrine. Three persons continued with him. The rest kept

There was a little restaurant between the shrine and the corner. One man dropped off there. The rest

continued. With softshoe tread, they moved past the spot where the tall form was shrouded in blackness.

WITH incredible stealth, the form of The Shadow flitted toward the other side of the alley. It moved along in

darkness past the Buddhist shrine, and paused at the next corner on the edge of the lighted street.

Keen eyes saw men in blue uniform strolling along the thoroughfare. A whispered laugh came from The

Shadow's lips. Silently, the mysterious personage in black returned along the alley, turned one corner, then

There, as everywhere else, men were stationed. They were waiting for a signal. The Shadow glided into the

darkness of a dingy alley that was no more than six feet in width. He was leaving the beleaguered block.

An eerie laugh. The Shadow knew. Cardona and his detectives were acting on some clew. They were

attacking from three sides, with police patrolling the fourth. Without realizing it, they were working in

What need for watching agents now? The only need was haste. A massed attack would effectively block the

passages from Chon Look's and Soy Foon's; but the confusion would be a warning to Kwa. When Cardona

and the detectives eventually reached the domain of the Living Joss, they would be too late to capture the

There lay The Shadow's task. He, the phantom of darkness, would time his invasion with that of the

detectives. It was the very situation that The Shadow had desired to come face to face with Kwa, the Living

The black shape was invisible in the gloom of a silent alley far from the surrounded block. A tiny flashlight

gleamed and cast a disk of light the size of a silver dollar. This glow revealed a grating against the bottom of

The light went out. Firm hands raised the grate. A lithe form glided downward. The iron barrier slipped

slowly and softly into place. In the front compartment of a small cellar a chamber blocked from the rest of

The glow of the tiny light showed a hole in the stone side of this entry. A blackgloved hand produced a

slender, needlepointed pick, and inserted it into the tiny opening. The probing steel brought a click from a

Down a flight of steps, the barrier closing behind him. With his flashlight casting a gleam ahead, The Shadow

That was the next obstacle in The Shadow's path. Like the first blocking wall, it would be opened by his skill.

The light glimmered as The Shadow advanced. Heading through this burrow under the streets of Chinatown,

the master of darkness was penetrating toward the abode of Kwa! Should the Living Joss flee by this outlet,

A PANEL arose in the corner of Kwa's temple. A Chinaman staggered in, and the barrier dropped behind

him. It was Chon Look. The usual placid face of the Buddhist was tinged with alarm.

Hurriedly, Chon Look raised the silent gong and made a soundless stroke. He waited for several seconds. The

incense burners puffed, and the hideous form of Kwa appeared upon the huge taboret.

"Great Kwa!" Chon Look was gasping in his native tongue. "They are upon us! They are coming here!"

"Who is coming here?" questioned the Living Joss, in a crackled tone that seemed to indicate a knowledge of

"The police!" exclaimed Chon Look. "They came into the shrine. They began to question me. I managed to

elude them; to come through the passage. They saw the entrance close behind me. They are coming "

The Chinaman's voice faltered in its singsong lingo as a panel opened in the other corner. In dashed Soy

Foon. The barrier dropped, and the merchant stopped short as he bowed solemnly to Kwa.

"They are coming here, great Kwa!" announced Soy Foon. "The police have entered my shop! I barely

A distorted chuckle came from the bulging mouth of the Living Joss. With sweeps of his arms, the figure on

"Open them!" he ordered. "Stand there each of you to greet our guests! Request that their leaders enter to

With startled glances, Chon Look and Soy Foon looked at one another. The commands of Kwa must be

obeyed. Bowing to the Living Joss, whose insidious shape was wreathed by the curling smoke of incense,

THE glare of a powerful torch came from the passage that Chon Look had followed here. Joe Cardona, at the

head of his men, saw the bowing form of Chon Look. The keeper of the shrine was holding out his arms and

"You may come here," he announced in English. "My master will speak with you. But let there be a few not

The unexpected welcome brought Cardona to a stop. With a gruff laugh, the detective signaled to Markham

"Come with me, Markham," he ordered. "You fellows hold this panel open. The rest of you stay back and

Peering through the opening, Cardona saw the seated shape of Kwa. Chon Look stood aside to admit Cardona

Both detectives stared in amazement at the hideous face before them. They had not dreamed that such a

monstrous being could exist, even in this hidden lair in the depths of curious Chinatown.

"Others will be here" Kwa spoke in English, his tones crackling "and it would be wise for us to be

He indicated the door where Soy Foon was standing. Even now, shouts were echoing along the buried

Cardona motioned to Markham to watch the seated figure on the taboret. Going to the spot where Soy Foon

stood, the detective shouted along the passage. His cry received a response of recognition.

"Two of you come up," called Joe. "Hold this panel. The rest of you stay back until needed."

Two detectives appeared. The pair obeyed Cardona's order. Joe Cardona joined Markham.

Together Cardona and his companion faced the Living Joss. The situation was all in favor of the sleuths.

The word had passed back, and the entire squad was congregating through these passages. No avenue of

escape lay open to Kwa, the Living Joss. Here, in the temple, Cardona was ready to end the fantastic drama

"Who are you?" quizzed the sleuth. "What is this place for? What have you done with Barton Schofield?"

"I am Kwa, the Living Joss." Teeth snarled as the voice crackled. "I have nothing to do with your world. I am

"Koy Shan was a Chinaman," retorted Cardona. "So was Chun Shi. Call yourself any name you wish I

know your true identity. You are not Chinese. Put up your arms" the detective threatened with his revolver

AS Cardona pronounced the name, an ugly snarl spat from the vile lips of Kwa. An expression of fiendish

rage was manifest upon the evil face. Then came a crackling cry of challenge, as Kwa, raising his hands at

"You have come to my temple" the tone was hideous. "You have discovered my identity. You seek to

capture me. You want Barton Schofield? He is my prisoner. You will never find him never for first you

The ugly form leaned backward, with a gloating chuckle. The shift of weight brought an instantaneous result.

Thick jets of smoke burst from the incense burners. Joe Cardona, quickly recovering from his surprise, fired

The smoke cleared away. The terrible figure of Kwa was gone! Cardona's men were surging in from the

The Living Joss had vanished, but now a grim token of his evil might came in terrible retaliation against

those who had come to capture Kwa. A pungent odor filled the temple. Detectives began to stagger. Joe

Cardona saw Markham waver; then Joe, himself, felt the effects of an overwhelming gas.

The room rolled before his eyes. The star detective tottered and caught vainly at the taboret in front of him.

Death was entering this room, death in the form of a purplish vapor that was rising from the smokewreathed

incense burners. Huddled on the floor, Joe Cardona felt the sickening sensation that comes as a forerunner to

Kwa had departed; from somewhere outside this temple, he had launched a counterattack which was

IN a squarewalled chamber directly beneath his temple, Kwa, the Living Joss, stood staring upward. Beside

the superfiend were the mechanical contrivances with which he had worked his amazing feats.

A skeleton plunger, topped with a flat seat, pointed directly toward the ceiling. This was the heavyspringed

device which enabled Kwa to appear and vanish with such suddenness. The top of the plunger was designed

A tank was connected by a hose to jets which entered the ceiling. These supplied the incense burners. A

second tank stood beside the first. Kwa had disconnected the automatic container which produced the smoke;

in its place, he had quickly put the new tank, which was now pouring forth its overwhelming vapor.

The long hand of Kwa, an ugly claw with its extended finger nails, was resting on a lever which controlled

The glaring eyes of Kwa turned toward the wall at the right of the room. The gloating gleam vanished from

those insidious orbs. That wall was the beginning of the path which this monster had designed for his escape.

Kwa held no weapon. His fiendish mind sensed an unexpected menace. Someone was coming through that

barrier some unknown enemy who had found Kwa's own underground passage! With a wild snarl, the

Living Joss sprang to the opposite side of the room and clutched a lever with his clawing fist. As the right

As Kwa dived through the spreading barrier, a blackgarbed figure appeared at the opening in the opposite

wall. The Shadow had broken the last barricade. He was in the heart of Kwa's domain, beneath the temple

An automatic roared. Its shot was a moment too late. Kwa, with remarkable quickness, had closed the barrier

IN the dim light of this control room, the master of the night had spied the gas tank with its connected hose

and opened lever. With one swift stride, The Shadow reached the instrument of death and pulled the switch.

That action stopped the passage of the deadly vapor. Cardona and his men, helpless in the temple above, were

The Shadow turned to the barrier which Kwa had closed. The fiend had jammed it from the other side. If this

way led to another secret exit, Kwa's escape would be a matter of course. The Shadow strove to wedge the

His first efforts failed. Then, with a sardonic laugh, the blackcloaked master brought forth two vials. One

contained a grayish powder; the other a black substance that resembled graphite.

Sprinkling these together near the bottom of the creviced wall, The Shadow produced a small bottle and

poured a liquid upon the united powders. Springing across the room, The Shadow gained the entrance

through which he had forced his way. He reached the passage beyond, and shut the barrier behind him.

Long silence reigned in the control room. Then came a dull but powerful blast. The chemical action of liquid

and powders had broken the barrier through which Kwa had passed. Strong fumes subsided. During that

Pounding sounded from above. Cardona and his men were back at work. They were smashing down the

The eyes of The Shadow were peering through a narrow crevice. The slight opening closed as a detective

dropped down through the hole from the ceiling. Another man followed. They called to those above. Cardona

The sleuths spied the broken barrier which marked the path of Kwa. They took it as the only exit to the

control room. With a call to the others to remain above, Cardona led the charge into a narrow passage.

Twentyfive feet of stone tunnel to a room at the end. Cardona uttered a cry of triumph as he reached the

end, and saw a lean form sprawled upon a tawdry cot in the corner. His shout changed to apprehension as he

This was not Kwa! It was the man whom the detective had come to rescue Barton Schofield!

For a few moments, Cardona was afraid that the old banker was dead. But as the detective raised the

grayhaired head and stared into the pallid face, Schofield's eyelids flickered, and he stared dully into the

"Where is he?" questioned Cardona. "Where is Zelka Kwa the one we want? Which way did he go?"

Schofield was too weak to reply. One of the detectives, however, uttered a shout of discovery as he spied an

open passage in the dim corner of this stonewall cell. Resting Schofield back upon the cot, Cardona hurried to

the spot, and shot the rays of his torch down a short passage that ended in an abrupt turn.

Calling upon the others to follow, the ace detective took the one course which seemed available. Markham

and the other sleuths followed him with drawn revolvers. Barton Schofield was alone.

Wearily, the old man tried to raise his head. His feeble efforts to find his rescuers were rewarded with

increased strength. Schofield gained his feet. He saw the black opening, and tottered in that direction. He

stumbled, caught himself, and straightened as he placed his hand upon a door that was open beside the exit

A sudden sound made the old man turn. Looking toward the outer door, Barton Schofield saw a menacing

The eyes of The Shadow burned; a weird, sinister laugh echoed from mocking lips!

The insidious name came from the taunting lips of The Shadow. The word was more than a name; it was an

"Your doom is here," pronounced The Shadow. "You, Barton Schofield. The man who took the semblance of

Schofield, cowering in pitiful fashion, tried by action to deny the charge. The Shadow's gibing mirth

"Your dual personality was well concealed," remarked The Shadow, in a strange whisper. "You planned well,

feigning yourself to be a broken old man by day, so that you could take your insidious part by night.

"Your strategy was clever. A paragon of integrity, you lived a life of strictness, surrounding yourself with

men of honesty, to better mask the secret life which you preferred to lead. With Huxley Corporation stock

"Westley Hartnett Blaine Goodall" solemnly, The Shadow named the men who had died by Kwa's

insidious order "they were your first victims. Koy Shan and Chun Shi were capable subordinates until I

"There were two others whom you planned to slay. You succeeded with one Hugo Urvin because he

deserved to die. But David Moultrie did not die. I saved his life. I, The Shadow!"

A peculiar change was coming over Barton Schofield's face. The man was still cringing, but his features were

undergoing a strange distortion, which he appeared to force. His lips were protruding; his lower jaw,

disjointed, was extending. The man's eyes seemed to bulge as they took on a fiendish glare.

Barton Schofield, his double part declared by The Shadow, was assuming the hideous countenance that was

"You had a foil," resumed The Shadow, his tone more mocking than before. "Doctor Ward Zelka. A rogue,

perhaps, but not a criminal. Zelka was a traveler. He knew the ways of the Chinese. He liked to stroll in

"He was well suited to be the scapegoat the man whom the law would readily accept as the Living Joss. So

you let Zelka live, knowing that he would quail when the time came to threaten him with death from Kwa.

"Your abduction was the step which you knew would place both Moultrie and Zelka in a hopeless position.

By killing Moultrie, only Zelka would be left. Afraid of Kwa, afraid of police action, Zelka would have to

BARTON SCHOFIELD, whose face was now a grotesque, livid countenance, snarled venomously. His body

was swaying as though ready for a spring toward the doorway where The Shadow stood. The threat of the

A crumpled ball of paper appeared in The Shadow's left hand. With a deft motion, the cloaked being

"This was left at Zelka's," informed The Shadow. "He read its Chinese characters. He may have laughed at

first, even though the message stated that Chun Shi had come from seeing one man die, and was going to slay

"Then Zelka decided to find out if Moultrie had been slain. He learned that the plot had failed; but the police

were in charge. He had only one course: to flee, as the note from Kwa had ordered him."

"You knew," pronounced the being in black, "that Moultrie still lived. You were waiting for another

opportunity. The police came here tonight. You tricked them. They still believe that Kwa is Ward Zelka.

"Your present ruse is to let them rescue you as Barton Schofield. Just now you realized that you could entrap

the ones who had found you, and make another effort to escape. But you have faced The Shadow!

"I, The Shadow, have long since known the truth. A bounding figure upon the lawn of your mansion. That

was an inkling. You planned a real abduction; to have Koy Shan bring you to Soy Foon, that he might lay

you helpless in the temple of Kwa, where you, as Kwa's prisoner, would become the Living Joss himself!

"The abductors failed. Koy Shan died. You took the part of Kwa yourself, and fled. Others thought that Kwa

Barton Schofield was a terrible sight. His fierce face, his clawing hands, his bounding form that bobbed up

and down in rage these were the proofs of the fiendish nature which he had so cleverly disguised from the

"If you wish to play the part of Kwa" the whisper from the hidden lips was taunting "put on the trappings

which you have so lately discarded. You have hidden them, but you need them now. Those false upper teeth

those long, imitation finger nails the grotesque robes of the Living Joss! Put them on to add fully to your

With a monstrous snarl, Barton Schofield advanced upon The Shadow. Three long bounds brought him

almost to the muzzle of the menacing automatic. There, this man who had played Kwa came to a cowering

halt. That looming weapon, with its huge opening; those steady, burning eyes these were threats which

BACKING away, Schofield cowered toward the opening in the corner of the room. His face was still livid,

and suddenly a snarl of joy escaped his insidious lips. The Shadow had moved backward; the being in black

About to pounce forward, Schofield hesitated; then turned. He saw the reason for The Shadow's quiet

departure. The detectives, with Cardona at their head, were coming from the hole in the wall after a fruitless

Cardona blurted an amazed cry as he saw the face of Kwa upon the crouching figure in the center of the

vaulted room. Then, as Cardona raised his revolver, Barton Schofield, as yet unrecognized by the detective,

The fiendish attack hurled Cardona backward; but as he staggered into the arms of Markham, who was

behind him, Cardona fired. Furious hands clawed at his face. The fingers clutched Cardona's throat; then their

Cardona looked toward the couch as he uttered this cry; then his gaze moved about the room, and finally

centered upon the figure which was lying motionless at his feet. In the dead face of Kwa, Cardona caught the

"It's Schofield" cried the detective. "The old man was the fiend. Schofield, himself! It is incredible!"

The other men corroborated the discovery. In death, the semblance of fiendishness was slowly withering from

Barton Schofield's visage. The countenance of Kwa was losing its gruesome features as the facial muscles

"Carry him up," ordered Joe Cardona. "Search the place; get all the evidence we can discover. The robe he

CARDONA stood alone in the vaulted room after the others had acted. He knew now that Doctor Ward Zelka

was innocent; that the physician had been forced to flee because of the mesh which Barton Schofield had

The detective went forward, out of the vaulted room, up to the passage where the controls were located. The

other sleuths, headed by Markham, had pushed Schofield's body up through the trap that led into the temple.

They had taken the tanks along, to add them to the taboret and a gong of silence which had a transparent

Trophies of the superfiend! Cardona was not considering those items. The detective was staring at a new

This must lead to the secret exit which the fiend had sought! Who had been there to stop his escape? Cardona

From the hollow spaces of a stonewalled corridor came the sinister tone of a distant laugh. Cardona knew the

author of that weird mirth. He knew the meaning of the sibilant echoes that persisted like the dying cries of a

The Shadow, master of darkness, had laughed. His tones of mystery were a death knell. They were the

The Shadow had brought doom to the most insidious plotter who had ever dwelt in New York's Chinatown.