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

CHAPTER I. CRIME BREWS...............................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE SHADOW HEARS.................................................................................................4

CHAPTER III. THE SILKHAT CROOK.............................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. CROOK MEETS CROOK ...........................................................................................14

CHAPTER V. THE SHADOW STRIKES ............................................................................................19

CHAPTER VI. THE DOUBLE CROSS...............................................................................................24

CHAPTER VII. MARQUETTE STRIKES A TRAIL..........................................................................30

CHAPTER VIII. A RARE BIRD FLIES ...............................................................................................33

CHAPTER IX. AT NEW AVALON .....................................................................................................39

CHAPTER X. HARRY FINDS HIS MAN...........................................................................................43

CHAPTER XI. KENDALL GIVES ORDERS ......................................................................................47

CHAPTER XII. CROOKS CONFER ....................................................................................................51

CHAPTER XIII. MARQUETTE SEEKS AID.....................................................................................57

CHAPTER XIV. THE GIVEAWAY..................................................................................................61

CHAPTER XV. THE HAND OF CRIME............................................................................................64

CHAPTER XVI. THE SECOND STROKE ..........................................................................................68

CHAPTER XVII. THE PENALTY OF CRIME...................................................................................72

CHAPTER XVIII. THE GOVERNOR'S PARDON.............................................................................77

CHAPTER XIX. AT THE DEATH HOUSE........................................................................................81

CHAPTER XX. AFTER DEATH.........................................................................................................86

CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW'S MESSAGE..................................................................................90

CHAPTER XXII. FIENDS AT BAY....................................................................................................93

CHAPTER XXIII. THE LAW OF THE SHADOW.............................................................................96

THE lobby of the old Hotel Spartan had more than its usual quota of loungers tonight. Cliff Marsland noted

that fact as he sat in one of the brokendown easychairs, and carelessly studied the faces of the others who

To Cliff Marsland, it was evident that crime was brewing. A man of keen intuition, Cliff could scent such

indications. His business here was to watch for them. A week's residence in this dilapidated hotel had finally

The loungers in the lobby could see Cliff Marsland as well as he could see them, but his presence excited no

comment on their part. They took Cliff for what he pretended to be a mobster de luxe, one who was in the

Cliff Marsland's face was different from the usual gangland physiognomy. He possessed firm and

wellmolded features. His light hair and flashing blue eyes gave him the look of an athlete rather than a

It was Cliff's square jaw and his pokerface expression which earned him the respect of the hoodlums who

frequented this place. Cliff Marsland looked dangerous, and he minded his own business. Those two qualities

Cliff Marsland was the type of man whom one would expect to find living at the Hotel Spartan. This decrepit

lobby, where the dull rumble of the elevated constantly penetrated from the front street, was a regular

meeting place for tough customers, who had cash, and who possessed a clean bill of health with the New

Smallfry hoodlums and toughened gorillas shied away from the Hotel Spartan. Smooth racketeers preferred

uptown night clubs and more pretentious lobbies than the one which this old East Side hotel afforded. The

lesser chieftains of the underworld, the strongfisted lieutenants who served the big shots, such men chose

the Spartan because its location enabled them to keep in close contact with their underlings.

Gangsters who received real money for their work the kind who could afford to lie idle until big jobs came

When a guest of the establishment quietly checked out, it was accepted as a sign that he had received a bid

from some big shot who wanted expert service. When that same guest returned, it was assumed that he had

performed his required duties with sufficient precision to avoid suspicion on the part of the police.

CLIFF MARSLAND had, for a long time, appeared as an occasional resident of the Hotel Spartan. He was

The suggestion that he might be a detective or a stool pigeon would have brought a laugh. Nevertheless, Cliff

Maintaining his calm composure as he eyed another man who was entering the dingy lobby, Cliff Marsland

found his thoughts reverting to the first time that he had met his mysterious chief. The strange event had

Out of Sing Sing, where he had served time for a crime committed by another man, Cliff had been made the

goat for the murder of a racketeer. In that emergency, when Cliff had faced death at the hands of the dead

A being garbed in black cloak and broadbrimmed slouch hat, a mysterious personage who spoke in a weird

and sinister whisper, The Shadow had offered Cliff Marsland safety. In return, Cliff had promised to serve

Guided by The Shadow, Cliff had fought his way free, while an invisible hand from darkness had shot down

That episode had given Cliff Marsland a reputation as a fighter. With his enemies gone, he roamed the

underworld. Recognized by mobsters, he constantly gained information of coming crimes. Such word went

Cliff Marsland did not know. There were other agents besides Cliff but all served The Shadow in a capacity

that was purely subordinate. A lone wolf, one who kept his secrets hidden even from his chosen aids, The

Cliff Marsland possessed the happy faculty of engaging in reminiscent thoughts without losing his ability to

observe present happenings. He noticed that there were half a dozen strangers in the lobby, and that all of

Two of them were standing close together; Cliff was positive that all were associates. They had probably

been handpicked as men on whom the police had nothing, and were here because some gang leader planned

The situation presented Cliff Marsland with a problem. There were several persons living in the Hotel

Spartan who might have use for such a band as this. Soon, the leader would join his henchmen; crime would

then be under way. Before that time, it was Cliff Marsland's job to notify The Shadow, and when he sent his

message, Cliff would be doing best if he could name the man in back of this activity.

The pair of mobsters in the corner of the lobby! They were the ones upon whom Cliff planned to concentrate.

They were talking together now. Cliff arose from his chair, stalked over to the cracked marble desk, and

Cliff's next actions were deliberate. The Shadow's agent opened the pack, crumpled away the cellophane

wrapping, and flipped it toward an ash stand. He strolled toward the spot where the two gangsters stood.

The action was welltimed. Cliff had moved just far enough past the two gangsters to escape their notice. He

was still close enough to catch any words that might be uttered. A low growl came to his ears.

Cliff Marsland kept on. He strolled from the lobby, smoking his cigarette. He reached the street and turned

left, passing by the gloomy, grimy front of the Hotel Spartan. He crossed the street beneath the rumble of an

WHEN he left the Hotel Spartan, Cliff usually went to that eating house. Hence, there was nothing suspicious

in his present action. Behind his steady face, Cliff curbed the elation that he felt. In those snatches of

During his present stay at the Hotel Spartan, Cliff had learned the names of the small establishment's

principal guests. He had located their rooms. He knew whom the mobsters had meant by Duffy. Among those

in the Spartan was a hardboiled gang leader who kept very much to himself. The man's name was "Duffy"

Reaching the restaurant, Cliff Marsland entered. He went past a long lunch counter and arrived in a back

room. There were tables here, but few occupants. A clock showed that the hour was eight, and the time for

Cliff Marsland sat at a table and gave an order to the sadfaced waiter. The man plopped a glass of water on

When the waiter had gone, Cliff arose and strolled to a doorway at the back. Here he stopped in an

Methodically, Cliff dropped a nickel and dialed a number. The response came in a quiet voice which Cliff

The name as well as the voice was a token of identity. Burbank was The Shadow's hidden contact man one

In brief terms, Cliff Marsland reported what he had learned at the Hotel Spartan. He did not mention the

name of Duffy Bagland. He simply referred to the gang leader as 308. That was Bagland's room at the hotel.

"Report received," came Burbank's quiet tone. "Await instructions. Call in ten minutes."

Cliff Marsland hung up the receiver. He went back into the rear room of the restaurant. When the waiter

reappeared, Cliff was seated at the table, still smoking a cigarette while he waited for his order.

Minutes drifted by; Cliff, while he ate his meal, was on the alert. The door to the telephone room was only a

few feet away. Within ten minutes, Cliff intended to make another call to Burbank.

Then he would receive the instructions for tonight the word that would tell him how to cooperate with The

STRANGE blue rays were focused upon the polished surface of a table top. Within that circle of light rested

two white hands longfingered shapes that seemed to project from nowhere, like living, creeping things.

Upon a finger of the left hand rested a sparkling gem. A stone of many hues, its deeptinted colors changing

from deep crimson to sparkling azure, this jewel betokened mystery. Connoisseurs who had seen that gem

had pronounced it as an unmatched girasol, the finest fire opal in all the world.

The hands the deepcolored girasol which emitted sparks of light these were tokens of The Shadow.

They gave sign of his presence. The bluish gleam from the lamp told that The Shadow was in his sanctum.

Only in that one abode did such strange light exist shafts of gleaming blue that were confined to the corner

of a blackwalled room. No eyes other than those of The Shadow were accustomed to that eerie light, for the

Somewhere in Manhattan a spot easily accessible, yet impossible to find there lay The Shadow's sanctum.

This was the weird apartment which The Shadow chose to escape the city's roar and strife, a secret sanctuary

Envelopes lay upon The Shadow's table. The long white fingers opened them. Sheets of paper were unfolded

reports from The Shadow's agent. All were written in vivid blue ink; all were inscribed in a code which the

After the reading, the written words began to disappear. One by one, in uncanny order, they obliterated

Such was the way with the communications which The Shadow used. The disappearing ink took effect when

contact came with air. Any letters that might fall into unfriendly hands would thus prove useless. Before the

A peculiar instrument rested upon the table, just at the fringe of light. Its ticking was drowned by the rustling

of the papers. A large dial with three circles of numbers, this device served as The Shadow's clock. It told off

Each second, by that clock, seemed to be a lingering space of time. Although the hands of The Shadow

moved with ease, their actions, when gauged by the odd timepiece, seemed incredibly swift.

Such was the secret of The Shadow's prowess. He had the ability to pack decisive actions into fleeting

moments, to attempt feats which others would not dare all because of deft and unfailing precision.

THE inner circles of the clock indicated that the time was shortly after eight. While The Shadow worked, a

speck of light appeared upon the black wall directly opposite the white hands. Fingers crept swiftly across the

table, and returned with a set of earphones. These were carried into the darkness. The Shadow spoke into the

The call was from Burbank. The contact man, connected with The Shadow's sanctum, was relaying Cliff

Marsland's emergency report. A whispered laugh chilled the gloomy atmosphere of the sanctum. Then The

Shadow gave brief instructions for Cliff to return to the lobby of the old Hotel Spartan, there to await direct

The tiny signal bulb faded. The earphones slid across the table. The hands of The Shadow quickly swept

aside the blank papers and their envelopes. A click sounded shortly afterward; the scene was plunged in

A slight swish could be heard in the darkness of the sanctum. It was the rustling of The Shadow's cloak the

A soft, creepy laugh came from invisible lips; it rose to a strident burst of mirth that ended in a host of echoes

that shouted merrily from the walls. The weird reverberations dwindled to ghostly sobs that persisted as

When the last faint echo had died, the sanctum was empty. The Shadow had departed.

Swiftly and silently did The Shadow move on his strange excursions through crowded Manhattan. His course

was untraceable after he left the blackwalled room that served as his sanctum. Only at intervals, at widely

separated spots, did manifestations occur to give an inkling of The Shadow's passage.

A blot that grew black upon the sidewalk at the lighted corner of an avenue and a side street a splotch

A taxi driver, believing his cab to be empty, was startled by the sound of a passenger's calm voice, giving him

A bill that fluttered through the window in payment; that was the mark of The Shadow's departure when the

driver reached the appointed spot. The cab itself was empty when the taximan looked within.

A LONG, silhouetted streak of blackness wavered beneath the structure of an elevated station; a moving,

elusive shape passed the front window of the Hotel Spartan. A mass of blackness merged mysteriously with

Unseen fingers dug into the crevices between the bricks of the dingywalled building. A hand found the

projecting ledge of a window. Slowly, steadily, a shrouded form moved up the side of the wall. The Shadow

Upon this roughened surface, The Shadow required no special appliances such as the rubber suction cups

with which he could scale the polished wall of a cliff. His ability as a human fly enabled him to rise steadily

until he reached the third floor. There, his black form blotted out the light that filtered through a yellowish

Secure upon the ledge, The Shadow worked smoothly and silently. His blackgloved hands wedged a flat

piece of metal between the sections of the sash. The lock turned neatly, and the lower part of the sash rose

The shade itself trembled so slightly that its motion could scarcely be noticed. A tiny space opened at the

A man was seated in a corner of the room, his back away from the window. The Shadow knew the identity of

that individual. It was Duffy Bagland, the gang leader whom Cliff Marsland had indicated with the number

308. The entire plan of this hotel was known to The Shadow. The master of mystery had been expecting

Duffy Bagland had no inkling that eyes were watching him. Even had he turned toward the window, he

would have noticed nothing but blackness beneath that partly lifted shade. Night was The Shadow's mask a

Why was Bagland lingering here? His squad of mobsters was in readiness The Shadow had spotted the

ruffians while passing the lobby of the Spartan. There was one logical assumption; that Duffy Bagland

Minutes drifted by. The Shadow, clinging like a mammoth bat outside the window, shifted his position so

that his tall form no longer blotted out the block of light that indicated the window shade. Eyes from below

A telephone bell rang. Duffy Bagland arose from his chair and stepped across the room. A pudgy, ugly

profile was visible from the window as the gang leader picked up the telephone and growled a greeting. An

"That you, Tim?" Bagland's voice was low, but its harsh tones carried to The Shadow's ears. "Sure. I'm

ready... Yeah... He's got it fixed, eh? Well, it's time he did have... I got you... Up through the steps of the

Duffy Bagland paused, and his grin continued as he heard the instructions which came from the other end of

"I got you now, Tim... Sure, I'll send the gang ahead... Twentyone sixteen... The guy has gone out... Well, if

he comes back, it won't be good for him. He'd better stay out... Yeah, we'll post on the fire tower, too...

Diagram waiting in the room, and when we get the ring, we'll know it's all set. Call you to make sure? O.K. I

The gang leader hung up the receiver. There was no haste in his ensuing actions. He drew open a closet door,

brought out a hat and overcoat, and donned the garments. He opened a table drawer and brought out a

glittering revolver. Still wearing his grin, Bagland packed the gat deep in his overcoat pocket. He strolled

ALL the way, the gang leader offered a perfect target for The Shadow, had the waiting watcher chosen to

take action at that moment. The Shadow, however, had no such intention. He had gained only an inkling of

Duffy Bagland's intended crime. He knew that the mob leader must be heading for some hotel of prominence,

The window sash locked softly, and The Shadow's tall form began its precipitous descent.

Down in the lobby, Bagland's cohorts were awaiting the arrival of the chief. Every man in that aggregation

was a murderous gangster, yet all of them were safe from the law at present. The Shadow, when he warred

against crime, preferred to get the criminals redhanded. That would be his procedure tonight.

The Shadow's descent was rapid. His tall form reached the alleyway and entered a rear passage that led to the

lobby. There was a door at the end. The barrier wavered as The Shadow pressed it.

Out in the lobby, Cliff Marsland, reading a newspaper, was secretly noting the arrival of Duffy Bagland, who

had just come down the stairs. But Cliff's alertness also took in the motion of the door beside the steps.

Cliff Marsland understood. His head delivered a slight nod, which was the reply. Duffy Bagland strode across

the lobby, and chatted with the clerk; then, with a swagger, he went to the street door, giving no sign

Bagland's departure, however, had an immediate effect. One by one, the waiting men strolled from the hotel.

Cliff Marsland, eying them cautiously, could see that they were heading toward the side of the building. In all

probability, they were following Duffy Bagland around the alleyway behind the hotel.

There was no need for Cliff to move. Suspicious eyes might have seen him, had he departed from the lobby.

Well did Cliff know that his aid was not needed at the present. The Shadow had gone from that passageway.

He, the master of darkness, could easily have doubled to the front of the hotel, there to make sure of the

In this surmise, Cliff Marsland was correct. In fact, The Shadow's agent gained a very good mental picture of

When Duffy Bagland had left the Hotel Spartan, he had turned the corner, and gone directly toward the

alleyway. He had passed within three feet of a blackened niche in the side wall of the building. Eyes from

At the entrance of the alleyway, Duffy Bagland had awaited the arrival of his henchmen. They had come

unobtrusively; they formed a small, wellhidden cluster as they gathered about their chief. Every man in that

With the last of the mobsters had stalked a strange, fantastic figure a black form which seemed like a

portion of the night's darkness. That shape was hovering beside the corner of the building when Duffy

The crowd dispersed. Gangsters slunk away in pairs. Some went through the alleyway; others went along the

street. Duffy Bagland strolled along with the two men whom Cliff Marsland had heard talking in the hotel

When the evil outfit was gone, a low, whispered laugh made an uncanny sound at the entrance of the

alleyway. The Shadow, knowing the lay for tonight's crime, needed no more information.

On the telephone, Duffy Bagland had discussed the plans for action at an unknown destination. To his

henchmen, he had said nothing of those final plans; but he had named the hotel in which Room 2116 was

AGAIN The Shadow's form moved silently through the passage to the lobby. Once more, the door trembled;

The signal was sufficient. Cliff Marsland arose from his chair, and went up the stairs to the third floor. He

opened the door of his room, which had a window on the alleyway. Cliff turned on a corner light. He raised

the sash of the window, took a few breaths of fresh air and strolled over to a bureau.

Something whistled past Cliff Marsland's ear. It struck the wall with a sharp click, and fluttered to the floor.

Cliff picked it up a black envelope of stiff paper. This missile had been projected with the speed of an

Tucking the envelope in his pocket, Cliff walked back and lowered the sash, then the window shade. By the

light of the corner lamp, he opened the envelope and extracted a folded sheet of white paper.

Coded lines in blue ink greeted his eyes. Cliff read the brief message from The Shadow.

The writing faded. Cliff crumpled the paper and tossed it in the wastebasket. He kept the envelope, however,

Opening the bureau drawer, The Shadow's agent extracted a pair of heavy service automatics and pocketed

Leaving the room, Cliff descended to the lobby and strolled out to the street. It was fully ten minutes since

Duffy Bagland and his men had gone. The action could excite no suspicion at this time.

Cliff went to the nearest elevated station, boarded a train, and rode uptown. He alighted on a trafficthronged

As the cab rolled toward its destination, Cliff Marsland methodically extracted the black envelope from his

pocket, tore the object to pieces, and let the fragments flutter from the window. The young man smiled grimly

There would be adventure tonight adventure in the service of The Shadow. Cliff's brief instructions had

given him a definite duty. He would be ready to aid The Shadow in frustrating a daring but wellplanned

Duffy Bagland, with his mobsmen planted, would soon await the signal for a foray to a goal which he had not

Cliff Marsland again smiled grimly as he contemplated that phase of the situation. With The Shadow's

strategy as the guiding force, numerical odds meant nothing. Cliff was eager for the action which lay ahead

MANHATTAN'S lights made a glorious vista from the eighteenth floor of the Gargantuan Hotel. Through

the open window of a lighted room in the middle of a luxurious suite, two men had an excellent opportunity

to view the glittering sights. They, however, were concerned with other matters.

One man, tall and of medium weight, was standing before a fulllength mirror. Immaculately garbed in a

fulldress suit, he was surveying the set of his attire. Finally, he glanced at his own face, and gave himself a

His countenance was a handsome one, well formed and featured. Darkbrown eyes peered from beneath thin

black eyelashes. A trim, neatly pointed black mustache added to the man's dapper look.

The other occupant of the room was a stocky, hardfaced fellow who was plainly dressed in street clothes. A

depreciating grin showed upon this man's lips as he watched the mustached man finish his fastidious

"Always playing the dude," commented the watcher. "Well, it's your business, Silky. Stick to it."

The handsome man turned from the mirror, and spoke sarcastically as he viewed his heavyset companion.

"It's my business," he declared, "and it shows a profit. Maybe you could get into better money, Tim, if you

tried to play a part. But that mug of yours say, I wouldn't keep you as a valet two minutes if I didn't need to

"Silk" grabbed the stocky man by the shoulder, and drew him to the mirror. Both were standing so that they

"A fine pair," jeered the man who wore the dress suit. "Silk Elverton and Tim Mecke. One a gentleman; the

"Certainly," retorted Silk. "You've hit it exactly, Tim. Appearances count, particularly when they are meant to

deceive. Look at the situation we are in right now. I'm going where the swag lays like a gentleman. I

"You did that. By keeping your mouth shut and managing not to laugh when I referred to you as my man.

Silk Elverton slipped a cigarette in a holder. He applied a match; then picked up a light coat and a silk hat,

which lay upon a chair. Dropping the coat over his left arm, Silk donned the hat and pointed toward the

"Come, Timothy!" he said, in an affected tone. "You must be more prompt, my man. Bring me my walking

TIM MECKE laughed as he picked up a goldheaded cane and handed it to Silk Elverton. The roughfaced

fellow who posed as valet pro tem stared at the high hat which rested neatly upon Silk's head.

"No wonder they call you Silk," he commented. "That shiny topper say, it's nifty, all right. You've got the

"All right," returned Silk, in a brusque tone. "Let's get this straight, now, Tim. You opened up 2116 with that

phony key. Duffy and his mob will get in there all right. The diagram I made is waiting for them, eh?"

"You stick here. I'll fix everything. I'll buzz you when it's set. Then I'll ring the room where they are. If there's

any hitch up at the convention, I'll tip you off. Then you can slide up to 2116 and put Duffy wise."

"Probably not. I looked over the lay last night. But I'm not taking any chances. Have everything packed so we

can leave after I come back. Taking the steamship back to jolly old England, you know."

Silk Elverton smiled at Tim Mecke's last words. Putting his cane in his left hand, Silk tapped his right hip

"Say," he remarked, "I wish I could tell those goofs I was a duke or a baron or what not. But it would be too

risky. I'm just Ronald Elverton to them, but that's big enough. They're all tickled to have a swanky Britisher

at this convention. You ought to see the saps when I start to drawl about dear old London."

"Why not? I wouldn't pretend to be one if I couldn't play the part. Listen, now when I come back, we move

out with dignity. After that, you can scram and join up with Duffy Bagland. You're the gobetween, and I'll

"You're right I'll get it," he said coldly. "There's nobody ever stopped me from getting what I worked for.

Well" Silk's lips formed a smile, and his voice altered its tone "I'm waggling along. Cheerio!"

Jauntily, Silk Elverton strolled from the suite. He adjusted a monocle to his right eye, and carefully arranged

the ribbon which led from the glass to his pocket. He stopped at the elevators, and boarded an upwardbound

Nods of greeting came from several men who were in the elevator. These were staid businessmen of middle

age, who, like Silk, wore evening clothes. The difference lay in the fact that Silk's attire seemed natural to

him, while the others gave the impression of being ill at ease in their regalia.

The occupants of the car stepped out. Silk Elverton went to a checkroom and left his coat, hat, and cane. Still

wearing his monocle, he placed a fresh cigarette in the holder, and strolled toward a room at the end of the

THE ballroom occupied the center third of this floor; tonight, it was closed. The corridor which Silk took

opened into a long, narrow room that was adjacent to the ballroom. This was the first of several smaller

All along were convention exhibits. Signs displayed in each room announced that this affair was conducted

by the United Silverware Manufacturers' Association. The exhibit booths contained many forms of table

equipment, but now most of the exhibitors were packing. Silk Elverton continued through until he came to

Each of the rooms that the welldressed man went through had a side door opening into the closed ballroom.

But in the last room of the tier, there was another door that led into a small room, which had no other

Silk Elverton strolled through the door. A gorgeous array of glittering tableware met his eye. Spread upon

tables and shelves were plates of solid gold. Also on exhibit were knives and forks of the same precious

Silver, too, had its place in this exhibit. There were white plates larger than the golden ones. Silver samovars,

huge tureens, solid sets of cups and saucers all combined to make a glorious display.

Silk Elverton knew the history of these articles, and he heard continued comments from other persons who

were viewing the objects. This tableware had been carried from the Winter Palace of the Russian Czar, saved

by trusted servants. It had been sold to aid the Royalist cause; a wealthy American had purchased the bulk of

As a special attraction, the collection had been put on display at this convention. Valued as gold and silver

alone eliminating the workmanship the tableware was worth many thousands of dollars.

Some one announced that the exhibit would be closed until later in the evening. Silk joined the persons who

were filing into the outer room. He paused there, and shrewdly watched a detective close and lock the door.

An urging voice impelled the lingerers out through the tier of three rooms. Silk, among the last to go, noted

That was exactly what Silk Elverton had expected. He had noted the procedure on the night before.

Sauntering on through the tier, he reached the corridor and joined a group of prosperouslooking men who

The introduction was made. Silk found himself shaking hands with a big, bluff man whose air was one of

SILK learned that this was Foulkrod Kendall, whose silverware factory in New Avalon was one of the largest

and most substantial in the United States. Kendall, in turn, was informed that Ronald Elverton was the special

"Glad to meet you, Elverton," announced Kendall, in a pompous tone. "it's time that your concern took notice

"I am the first British delegate to this convention," admitted Elverton. "It has been a remarkable experience. It

has, indeed. Really, I shall make every effort to be present at your next annual function."

Foulkrod Kendall, now that the introduction was ended, resumed a discussion that had been temporarily

dropped. He faced one of his companions with a challenging air, and put a blunt question.

"I was saying, Mr. Kendall," the man returned, "that the Sterling mark on silver is essential to the

"An excellent name," admitted the disputant. "But you must admit that unless you have the Sterling standard,

"You have seen my exhibit," interposed Kendall. "You have noted the weight, the quality of my solid silver.

"Yes, Mr. Kendall; but you are selling Kendallware at a remarkably low figure for Sterling silver. I cannot

Doubting headshakes came from men in the group. Kendall glowered. He seemed to note a challenge that

"I hope," he remarked coldly, "that no one will suggest that my alloy is not of Sterling quality. Its weight; its

ring; those should convince you. Remember, gentlemen, the silver market is declining. I buy large quantities

"You can't sell Sterling silver at that price, Mr. Kendall," said one man abruptly. "I should like to see an

"Perhaps," was the retort, "but I can assure you that if I conducted the test, I would purchase Kendallware

without your knowledge and would not use the articles which your factory supplied for test purposes."

Kendall clenched his fists. Then, with an imperious look, be shrugged his shoulders and turned away from the

crowd. Men exchanged glances; then the group broke up. Only Silk Elverton remained.

"I say," he remarked. "This is interesting quite. I have heard much of the merits of Kendallware. It strikes

me that those chaps are a bit put out because you have stolen the march on them."

"That's just it," growled Kendall. His glare faded as he surveyed this one supporter. "It must annoy you, Mr.

Elverton, to see such stupidity here in New York. These fellows have reached the point where they think that

competition no longer exists in the silverware market. I'll show them! Sterling silver Kendallware for two

"Remarkable," praised Elverton. "HighbyTyson will be greatly interested when I tell them of this. My

congratulations, Mr. Kendall. I must depart. I hope to see you later in the evening."

Kendall watched Elverton as he strolled away. A smile appeared upon the silverware manufacturer's face.

Kendall did not see the smile in which Silk was indulging. As he walked along, the smooth crook muttered to

"Say," he mumbled, "that bigmoney boy has got something. I'll bet it would be sweet if I could spring an

Silk shrugged his shoulders slightly and kept on. He had other and more important matters on his mind

tonight. No use of considering elusive possibilities when real ones lay very close at hand.

Silk passed the closed entrance to the ballroom. He sauntered down the farther corridor, and paused to eject

SILK was at the open door of an empty room which lay on the side of the ballroom opposite the exhibit tier.

He looked around and saw that no one was noticing him. Foulkrod Kendall was still in sight, but the big man

Easily, Silk edged behind the cover of a potted palm. Then, with quick, stealthy tread, he entered the empty

Silk smiled. From beneath his immaculate white vest, he drew a kit of small tools. He started on the lock. It

Cautiously, Silk stepped into the ballroom. He peered past the edge of the door; he saw no one in the corridor.

Softly, Silk closed the door and stood alone in the ballroom. The place was dim, lighted only by a dull glow

The smile would have faded had the crook known what was taking place in the room which he had left.

Scarcely had the door closed before some one moved beyond the palm tree in the corridor. A man stepped

into the dim light of the empty room, and followed the course which Silk had taken.

The pursuer waited at the side door to the ballroom. He was allowing time for Silk Elverton to proceed

further on his quest. While he was waiting, the man kept looking back toward the corridor, and the light that

The man who was trailing Silk Elverton was Foulkrod Kendall, the millionaire tableware manufacturer!

SILK ELVERTON made a careful study of the ballroom. He knew the place from previous observation. He

The main opening was at the front. All along the sides were locked doors which went into side rooms. At the

There were two alcoves, one on each side of the stage. These had windows, but Silk had abandoned them as a

mode of entry. Those windows opened on sheer walls. There were small balconies, but nothing beneath not

Behind the stage, however, was a stairway that led to the floor below. The ballroom was on the

twentysecond; hence the bottom of the stairway ended on the twentyfirst, where Duffy Bagland and his

There was a door at the bottom of the stairway. It was locked. Silk had not bothered to open it. Duffy and the

mob could take care of that lock. The doorway was in a secluded spot, and it presented no complications. Silk

had decided to leave it locked in case some one might discover it before the gangsters came that way.

Up here, however, the locks were more sturdy. They needed real attention, and Silk was prepared to give it.

He moved across the ballroom, and took the third door. This was the one that opened into the last room of the

exhibit tier, the anteroom to the special chamber in which the Czarist plate was stowed.

Silk worked carefully on this lock. It was similar to the one which he had previously opened, but it proved a

trifle stubborn. At last it yielded. Silk opened the door, and left it ajar while he moved into the darkness of the

Two doors were here. One led out through the tier. Probably a detective was not far beyond it. The other was

Silk expected trouble with the lock. He found it. Different tools failed. Silk mopped his brow with a

Success came like a piece of luck. His probing pick made a fortunate find. Silk opened the door, and turned a

The way was open sooner than Silk had expected sooner than he had hoped! The crook would have liked to

begin the rifling now. He realized his own inability to remove that mass of plate. Duffy Bagland was bringing

Now was the time for quick action. Silk went back through the third room of the tier; then into the ballroom.

He tiptoed to a telephone in the corner. He hesitated; then went out through the other side. He stood looking

SILK ELVERTON'S course had been a lucky one. He would have faced trouble had he remained in the

ballroom one minute longer. Scarcely had he departed before a motion took place in one of the alcoves beside

the stage. A window opened, blackness blotted out the dim glare of the city, a tall figure slipped noiselessly

Choosing his own mode of entry, the blackgarbed visitant had scaled the wall which Silk had deemed

impregnable. He had come in from the little balcony, too late to witness Silk's departure, but in time to await

Swiftly, silently, The Shadow crossed the ballroom. A tiny disk of light flickered. The Shadow opened the

door into the tier. He reached the room where the plate was stored; there, he opened the door and turned his

The Shadow laughed in whispered tones. The light went out. From then on, The Shadow became a flitting

All this while, Silk Elverton had been waiting in the room that had the palm tree by its entrance. His nerves

were tingling. He had a sense that danger threatened. Chewing his lip, he strolled toward the corridor. He

made the turn past the palm tree, and stopped short. He was face to face with Foulkrod Kendall.

There were other people in the corridor; they were well distant, and none noticed this meeting. Silk Elverton's

face displayed a momentary chagrin; then, with an air of affected nonchalance, the crook produced a

Kendall said nothing. He merely watched Silk as the man strolled on along the corridor. Then, with a smile,

Kendall followed. Silk was too wise to look behind him. He went to the cloakroom and called for his hat,

There was a little room on the right, and Silk knew that it contained a telephone. Receiving his belongings,

the crook threw a quick glance along the corridor. He failed to see Kendall in the scattered throng, because

the millionaire had quietly stepped out of sight in the extension that led to the elevators.

Silk pondered quickly. He had passed up the telephone in the ballroom; he had intended to go downstairs

before sending his signal. He might, however, again encounter Kendall. The little room was empty. It offered

Silk sidled into the room. He reached the telephone, He called his own suite. He wondered whether he should

tell Tim Mecke to call off the job. Then he thought of what the reaction would be upon Duffy Bagland.

No the job must go through. It would be his part Silk's to get hold of Foulkrod Kendall, and lull the

millionaire into a state that would counteract suspicion. It might mean a hurried getaway. It might mean

Tim was on the telephone. Silk gave him the word that meant all well. Joggling the hook, he called Room

Silk hung up the receiver. He arose and turned; then stopped abruptly. This time, his consternation was

something that he could not veil. Again, he was facing Foulkrod Kendall. The millionaire's face wore a smug

"You crook!" Kendall uttered the accusation in a low, direct tone. "Representing HighbyTyson, Limited. I

might have told you then that I knew your game. Those people would never have sent a man to this

"You won't fail after I summon the police," returned Kendall. "I knew there was something fishy about you. I

saw where you went. Through the ballroom into the tier I can guess where you went after that. I didn't

"Now you've tipped off your pals, eh? Well, I'll put an end to that. The police first; then these detectives who

SILK ELVERTON slipped his hand toward his hip pocket. He realized the futility of his action. He could not

escape from this corner room. A fight would start trouble that might begin a rush to the treasure room.

"Wait a minute." Silk tried to speak with calmness. "You're making a mistake, Mr. Kendall "

"No." Silk's face became shrewd under highpressure inspiration. "I just want to question your first

statement, Mr. Kendall. You said that you suspected me because I pretended to be from HighbyTyson. That

"Because," declared Silk boldly, "I pretended to swallow that talk you made about Kendallware. I made a

mistake there. A bad one. Any man who knows the silver market can tell you that your Kendallware prices

are ridiculous. Spoil my game, Kendall. Maybe I'll have a chance to spoil yours."

An evil light gleamed in Foulkrod Kendall's eyes. For a moment the big man was on the point of swinging

"Easy, Kendall," he said, in a low voice. "Listen to what I've got to say. I've got the greatest game in the

Kendall set down the telephone. His glare became a steady look. He made no comment. He watched Silk

Elverton glance about to see that no one had entered the room. Then he heard the crook's purring voice.

"Your game is a giveaway," said Silk softly. "You've got something great but you don't know how to

work it. I know a silver alloy that has the ring and the weight of Sterling; probably cheaper than I think it is,

"If you use it in your tableware, you can't grab the market unless you drop the price. If you drop the price, the

other manufacturers will spot something wrong. You sounded them out tonight. You heard the answer they

"Kendall, I know a use for that alloy of yours if your stuff is as good as I think it is. I'm a crook, Kendall,

Again, Silk paused. He noted a man passing through the room. Leaning close to Foulkrod Kendall, as though

in confidential and friendly conference, he whispered words that brought a sudden light to the millionaire's

Foulkrod Kendall straightened up. He reached out and clapped Silk Elverton on the back. Two men entering

"A very funny story, Elverton," declared Kendall. "I didn't know you Englishmen actually possessed such a

"You seemed to enjoy it jolly well," returned Silk, with a smile. "By Jove! I shall have to recollect some other

Kendall was walking toward the door, drawing Silk along with him. The smooth crook uttered a whispered

"Forget it," was Kendall's growl that came in an undertone. "They won't squeal on you, will they?"

THEY had reached the corridor. Kendall was accosting men whom he knew. He began to introduce Silk

"I've known this fellow before!" exclaimed Kendall, to the forming group, "Met him while I was in London,

"Not a bit of it!" interposed Kendall. "I'll make it stronger. You're the best of all HighbyTyson's men. You're

"You will remain. Look over some of our plants while you're here. I want your opinion on Kendallware "

The talk ran on. Silk Elverton found himself the lion of the occasion. All his suavity had returned. His alibi

But as he chatted with his English accent, Silk Elverton could not help but think of the strange situation

Despite Foulkrod Kendall's knowledge that crime was in the making, Duffy Bagland and the mobsters were

coming undisturbed to steal the Czarist plate. Even now, they might be secretly at work.

While that job was in action, Silk Elverton was already on the way to a bigger, better game which he would

play with a new partner a scheme that made the Russian treasure fade into insignificance.

Nerve had saved the day; nerve had brought tremendous opportunity. All because Silk Elverton had played a

long shot chancing everything on his sudden impression that in Foulkrod Kendall he had discovered a man

All was well tonight; all would be well thus did Silk Elverton reason. Actually, his belief was erroneous.

There was trouble ahead difficulties that would put Silk in the tightest spot of all. An unknown factor

A LIGHT flickered in the deserted ballroom. A muffled oath sounded; the flashlight was extinguished. Duffy

"No glims in here," announced the gang leader. "There's enough light through the transoms. Wait until we get

Gangsters formed a solid phalanx as they neared the door which Silk Elverton had prepared as their entrance

to the treasure room. They entered the innermost room of the triple tier. Here Duffy used a small light to

That door was ajar as Silk Elverton had left it. Duffy's prying light glittered as the gang leader focused it

through the crack. The sight of ready wealth caused the man to chuckle. Then, in a hoarse whisper, he gave

"We've got to unload this stuff smooth," he said. "Boggy and Pogo are set down at the bottom of the stairs.

As soon as we load each bag, run it down and let them watch it. Then we can all grab the stuff and head for

"Look out for that door over there," Duffy's light flickered momentarily upon the barrier between this room

and the other chambers of the tier. "If anybody makes trouble, it will be from there. Come on. Get busy."

Gangsters entered the treasure room. Flashlights shone. Eager hands began to work.

With care not to cause a clatter, the mobsters loaded gold and silver into bags which they had brought for the

purpose. Duffy Bagland watched the work; then moved out toward the ballroom, to guide the way for the first

The gang leader became wary as he stepped into the ballroom. He exerted a privilege that he had denied the

others that of using a flashlight. There was something about this huge apartment that worried him.

Duffy sent a gleaming ray on a long sweep about the room. The termination of that swath was toward the

Something caught Duffy Bagland's eye just as he clicked off the switch. As the rays of light had reached their

final point, the very edge of the door, they had uncovered a peculiar mass of blackness a fringe of gloom

The phenomenon was not sufficient to indicate a human being. Nevertheless, Duffy Bagland was tense as he

again turned on the light. The torch was in his left hand; a revolver in his right. This time, Duffy directed the

AGAIN that mass of blackness; but now the gloom had a shape. Duffy Bagland stared squarely at the head

and shoulders of a weird stranger a being whose features were buried between the upturned collar of a

For an instant, the gang leader took the sight for an illusion; then, as he caught the glare of brilliant eyes,

Duffy Bagland knew that he faced a living form! His lips opened to utter the name that they could not

But before the gang leader could gasp out the name of The Shadow; before he could press his finger to the

revolver trigger, the phantom of the night was in action. Even as the first glimmers of light outlined his form,

Duffy Bagland was swept backward by the swift attack. A powerful hand gripped his right wrist. An arm like

Caught in a stalwart gasp, Duffy Bagland was twisted sidewise in the air. His body did a whirl, and hurtled

along the floor. Flashlight and revolver clattered away. Stunned by The Shadow's jujutso throw, the gang

The revolver had skidded away from sight. The flashlight, its rays trickling along the floor, was plainly

A black hand came into the glare of the torch. A click; the light was out. The Shadow arose to turn back to his

Two men were coming from the end room of the tier. Each was burdened with a bag. One was speaking in a

The first man was moving onward with the bag. The second growled for him to wait. Both men set down

The one nearest the door turned on a flashlight. Its illumination fell squarely upon the crumpled shape of

The man's gasp died as his turning light encountered a gliding mass of blackness. Stark terror caught this

mobster's heart. Then came the revealing light, from the other gangster's torch. The crossing beams fell full

Each hand that projected from the folds of the black cloak now held a powerful automatic. From the moment

that he had felled Duffy Bagland, The Shadow had expected imminent discovery of the gang leader's stunned

form. He had chosen to reserve attack until his enemies were spread apart and burdened with their spoils;

COVERED by a double glare of light, The Shadow boomed forth his leaden welcome. Both automatics

spoke. So close were their separate shots that the roar seemed like the burst of a cannon.

The first bullet was aimed directly toward the flashlight which one gangster held. Shooting into the center of

light at close range, The Shadow shattered the torch before its holder could extinguish it.

The shot from the other automatic was delivered with the same purpose this time toward the second

Plowing missiles not only smashed the flashlights; they found human flesh beyond. Snarls of agony came

from the wounded gangsters. Neither man could attempt to return The Shadow's fire. Both dropped to the

Those shots meant action. Eight gangsters heard them from the other rooms. Bags of plate clattered to the

floor. Flashlights shone as Duffy Bagland's minions sprang forward to meet the unexpected invasion.

From behind the edge of the ballroom door, The Shadow opened his prompt attack. Automatics spat their

blinding flashes. Gangsters pitched forward as they emerged from the treasure room.

Those behind them, seeing their fall, sprang for corners of the room. Dropping to the floor, they fired with

their revolvers, using their flashlights to pick out the spot from which The Shadow had attacked. They shot at

His first volley delivered, The Shadow had glided out of sight. His bullets had dropped three among a squad

of eight; they might have taken greater toll but for the protection which the staggering men had given to those

behind them. The remaining five were trapped. The Shadow was at the portal through which they hoped to

Not one dared leap forward. The Shadow, hidden, was as great a threat as he had been when in view. The first

instinctive thought in every mobster's mind had been to gain safety for himself. It would be minutes now

before the concerted attack. Five would spring forth upon one but that one was The Shadow!

In the tense interim which followed the echoes of The Shadow's automatics, and the futile, shortlived

outbreak of replying revolver shots, vague, distant reports came in muffled outburst. From the silence of the

ballroom, The Shadow's laugh rang forth in mocking tones that made the scattered gangsters tremble.

The Shadow knew the meaning of those other shots. Their sound had come from the stairway that led down

to the twentyfirst floor. This meant that the two gangsters at the bottom of the stairs had heard The Shadow's

Cliff Marsland was stationed at that spot. A stanch fighter, waiting behind the protection of a heavy door, The

Shadow's agent held the advantage. Well did The Shadow know that those isolated minions could not escape

With Cliff in ambush, ready for the foe, The Shadow had deliberately intended to split the squad of gangsters.

He knew their ilk; knew that they would flee. While The Shadow broke the ranks of trapped men, Cliff could

Circumstances, however, had eased Cliff's duty to the minimum. Outside of the mobsters whom The Shadow

had dropped, the entire squad accompanying Duffy Bagland was now held within The Shadow's snare.

CONFUSED shouts came vaguely to the ballroom. The Shadow's laugh issued forth in a sinister whisper that

brought hollow echoes from the walls of the great room. The mass attack would be forced upon the gangsters

The door between the second and third rooms of the tier burst open. A flood of light showed the figures of

crouching mobsters. Three detectives, sensing that a raid was being made upon the Russian plate, were

The skulking gangsters rose to action. Here was opportunity! Before them, they saw men whom they could

Taking advantage of the stupid mistake made by the detectives, the mobsters leaped forward, firing as they

With mad cries of elation, the mobsters hurled themselves toward the opened outlet. Their shouts were

murderous. The retreating detectives only two able to resist were faced by a desperate situation.

Of the five mobsters, only one had reckoned with The Shadow. He, alone, turned toward the ballroom door,

As the gangster stared, he saw a black shape blot out the rays of light which now penetrated to the ballroom.

Wounded, the gangster cried the warning. His companions turned as they heard the desperate cry.

Four revolver muzzles swung toward the spot where The Shadow stood. The automatics roared a cannonade.

Split seconds were the advantage which The Shadow held; but he had four marksmen to meet before his work

One gangster fell while aiming. Another staggered with his finger pressing the trigger. His shot landed in the

The form of The Shadow seemed to dwindle; a third gangster faltered momentarily in his aim. A bullet from

one of the deadly automatics clipped his arm, and he dropped his weapon. The fourth man, however, blazed

A bullet whistled through the black slouch hat. A second shot, directed lower, whisked the folds of The

Shadow's cloak, just above the left shoulder. The black form seemed to waver; the hand trembled. The

He never fired that final shot. Often had enemies delivered a single bullet toward the blackclad fighter;

The Shadow's right hand shot back from a heavy recoil as its automatic spoke. The aiming mobster staggered

away, shrieking as he dropped his gun. His clawing hands went to his body; his shoulders struck against the

Duffy Bagland's mobsters were not yet through. A few of them, wounded, were still capable of weakened

battle as they crawled to pick up their dropped weapons. But as they rose to make a last hopeless battle, the

THE two detectives had seen the falling forms of mobsters. They knew that some one was fighting in their

Unscathed, the sleuths dashed into the room. They fell upon the beaten, crippled mobsters, and ended the

The Shadow had traveled from the range of light. His searching eyes, however, swept to the floor. They

The gang leader was gone! Unarmed, he had managed to sneak away during the final stages of the conflict.

Loud voices reached The Shadow's ears. They were coming from the stairway behind the stage. The Shadow

knew the meaning of the shouts that he heard. People had heard the shots on the floor below. Rescuers were

The Shadow did not linger. His swift form was no more than a gliding patch of blackness as it merged with

the gloom near the window through which he had entered the ballroom. As men came clambering from the

stage, that window closed. A batlike shape suspended itself from the outside balcony.

A spudgy sound gave evidence of The Shadow's progress down the wall. The blackclad phantom, with

suction disks at work, neared an open window. His invisible shape glided into a darkened room, several

The tip of light faltered. Then, in an awed voice, Cliff Marsland made reply to his chief, whose sudden entry

"Stopped them at the fire tower," announced Cliff. "They made a dash for it. Caught them halfway and

"Remain here," ordered The Shadow. "You will not be questioned. You will receive orders when to leave."

The cloak swished through the room. Cliff Marsland caught a momentary glimpse of a blotting shape in

The Shadow's agent turned on the light. Cliff Marsland removed his coat and vest, tuned in the radio, and sat

He had done The Shadow's bidding tonight. He had served The Shadow well. His automatics were tucked

But Cliff Marsland, despite the skill and precision with which he had picked off Duffy Bagland's two

reserves, could not feel pride in his accomplishment. While he had delivered crippling shots to two ruffians,

Even now, while Cliff was laying low to cover his part in this night's work, The Shadow was again faring

DUFFY BAGLAND was the man whom The Shadow had set forth to find. The hardfaced gang leader,

much though he might be fuming, had encountered luck tonight. He had escaped The Shadow an

His accidental discovery of the blackcloaked watcher had been Duffy's salvation. The Shadow had dealt

with him silently, in order not to alarm the mobsters, and Duffy Bagland had still lived. The roar of revolver

shots had come dimly to the gang leader's groggy brain. Duffy Bagland, rising while The Shadow fought, had

Good fortune had guided him. At the moment of The Shadow's departure even while men were entering

from the stage of the ballroom Duffy Bagland had snapped from his daze to find himself clear across the

The men who had entered had no flashlights. They were seeking switches on the wall. Duffy, unarmed and

helpless, arose in hopes of finding an avenue of escape. His shoulder jostled against a door.

Duffy found a knob. Again, with Lady Luck at work, Duffy gained what he needed. He was at the very door

which Silk Elverton had used to enter the ballroom. The door was still unlocked. Duffy opened it and entered

The place was dark, but Duffy could see the palm tree in the corridor. He could hear voices beyond that spot.

The gang leader decided to investigate. Though his appearance was not wholly unpresentable, he might be

People were talking excitedly. Duffy neared the protecting palm. He could see men's backs; all were staring

Duffy Bagland waited, his eyes glued to the black backs of two men who were attired in longtailed evening

coats. This pair appeared to be the members of a small group, but they had drawn away from their fellows.

"Stay up here," a low voice was saying. "You've got the alibi. Don't worry. Let them take it."

The words apparently came from the taller man of the pair. Duffy could see lips moving as a bluff face

showed its profile. He did not catch the answer which the other gave. The big man spoke again.

"Only one who knows you, eh?" he questioned his companion. "Do you think he would give you away?"

"Well," laughed the big man reassuringly, "maybe he'll get his. Let's hope he does. If he's out of it, you won't

The big man turned toward the palm tree. Duffy Bagland was about to slide away when the slighter man

THE big man Foulkrod Kendall spied Duffy Bagland through the latter's inadvertence. An excited look

came upon Kendall's bluff countenance. Silk Elverton swung to find himself face to face with Bagland.

The gang leader was seeing red. Thoughts flashed through his brain in scattered sequence. He heard people

clattering at the door through which he had come. Return to the ballroom was blocked. The game was up. But

The surprise attack the complete collapse of the thieving scheme these, Duffy attributed to Silk Elverton.

Here was the inside man talking with a stranger. The hope had been expressed that some one would be killed

The look on Silk Elverton's face showed consternation. With a fiendish cry, Duffy Bagland leaped forward.

Let them get him now he would spoil Silk Elverton's game, too. The smooth worker who posed as an

"You doublecrosser!" spat Duffy, as he lunged toward Silk. "I'll queer your work! I'll get you " His fist

It was Foulkrod Kendall who intervened. The big man struck down the blow; a moment later, he was

Kendall's heavy attack drove the gang leader against the palm tree. The plant went over as the pair staggered

toward the room. Duffy wrested free; with gangster skill, he drove a hard punch to Kendall's jaw. The big

Silk Elverton had leaned against the wall. His pose was one that might have betokened cowardice. But with

that action, the smooth crook slipped his hand to his pocket. His stubnosed revolver came out in his hand.

Hidden from those who were coming up the corridor, the weapon was in readiness as Duffy Bagland sprang

Silk pressed the trigger. The shot burst forth. The bullet was well aimed. Duffy Bagland twisted and caught

himself as he staggered. Foulkrod Kendall, too excited to realize that a shot had been fired, launched himself

Silk Elverton followed rapidly, his gun held close in front of him. Kendall was swinging a hard punch at

Duffy Bagland. The gang leader never received it. His body collapsed at the millionaire's feet. The revolver

FOULKROD KENDALL, leaning his bulk over Duffy Bagland's form, gained a sudden horror as he saw the

sickly look upon the dying gang leader's face. He saw chewing lips, flecked with blood. His eyes spied the

Mechanically, Kendall reached down and plucked up the weapon. He stood, half dumfounded, while men

came hurrying in from the corridor. The door from the ballroom opened, and others appeared to find out the

"My word!" Silk Elverton was speaking excitedly. "What bravery! Fancy it this bounder attacked Mr.

Kendall with a deadly weapon. Mr. Kendall plucked it from him and shot the beggar!"

Kendall stepped back in momentary horror. His lips wavered as he stared toward Silk Elverton. He caught the

crook's steady gaze; he saw the trifling nod that Silk gave. A hoarse, nervous laugh came from Kendall's lips.

"Sure I shot him," admitted the millionaire. "It was in selfdefense. I managed to yank the gun away from

Men who knew Kendall were crowding up with words of grim congratulation. It was known now that

detectives had just broken the attack of robbers who had come to take the Russian plate.

"Served him right," was the comment that passed along. "He'd have shot his way through here if it hadn't

Some men formed a curious crowd; others were drawing away from the scene of death. Silk Elverton joined

Police detectives were now in evidence. One of them, a swarthy man who appeared to be the leader, was

This was Detective Joe Cardona of the New York police. The sleuth strode away in the direction of the room

where Kendall had remained. Silk Elverton and others who appeared to be of timorous mold remained by the

"All right," he ordered. "Let these people go down. The whole mob has been nailed."

People herded into an open elevator. Silk Elverton was forced to wait for the second car.

He noted that the detectives were looking over the crowd. He knew the reason. They were letting these men

in evening clothes depart. The roughness of the mobsmen's attire would point out any who might have

"They got the big shot of the outfit," Silk heard Cardona say. "It was Duffy Bagland. I knew that bozo needed

watching. He bumped into a big silverware manufacturer while he was trying to make a getaway. Fellow

"I'll keep Kendall for a witness," resumed Cardona. "He seemed kind of worried, so I told him to forget it.

Say if there were a lot of millionaires like him to stop some of these tough bimboes, it would be sweet,

The door of an elevator opened. Silk Elverton moved aboard unmolested. A smile appeared beneath the

Foulkrod Kendall had taken the credit for nailing Duffy Bagland. The millionaire would be congratulated

not condemned. Quick headwork that was Silk's watchword. It was better for Kendall to talk to the police.

A GENTLEMAN in evening clothes was stepping from the elevator as Silk went aboard. The stranger threw

a hawklike gaze about him. In that glance, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the smart crook's face. The door

Reaching his suite, Silk Elverton found Tim Mecke staring from the window. Packed bags showed that the

fake valet had been attending to his work. Tim turned quickly as he heard his pretended master enter.

"Plenty," returned the smooth crook, tossing his hat, coat, and cane on the bed. He had picked up these

articles from a chair where he had dropped them in the corridor outside the ballroom.

"Yeah?" Tim's tone was worried. "Say, Silk, I thought I heard some shots way off in the hotel "

"You did, Tim. Listen. There were a lot of detectives up there, see? The gang must have been clumsy. I had

the way open for them but I figure they made a noise, and the dicks busted in. Anyway, they got the gang

Observing Tim's reaction, Silk was pleased that he had avoided discovery as the actual killer of the gang

"It all went sour, Tim. Only piece of luck was that they didn't suspect me. We're going to move out like we

"But if Duffy's dead" Tim was apprehensive "it puts me out of luck, Silk. I belonged to that gang. They'll

"You're going with me," informed Silk quietly. "I can use you, Tim. You belonged to Duffy Bagland; I'll take

you, now that he's been killed. We're going to another hotel, for tonight. That will be all right, because we're

"Just finding that out, eh?" laughed Silk. "Well, you'll be in the money, Tim, if you play along with me.

Come on help me on with that coat, just for practice, in case I need you for a valet again."

Tim complied. Silk Elverton strolled to the mirror, adjusted his attire, and donned his silk hat.

Tim obeyed. A few minutes later, the pretended Englishman and his phony valet marched from their suite,

"We'll call a cab when we get downstairs," said Silk, as they stood by the elevators. "Listen, now, Tim. I'm

"The first thing," declared Silk, "is to forget all about this. No talk about Duffy. He's gone. When a thing's all

over, it's done. No mooching around looking at newspapers. I've seen plenty of wise birds go South because

they fooled around with a little detail like that. If you're with me stay with me. Get it?"

Silk Elverton agreed with the compliment. He was pleased with the way tonight's work had turned out. It

was best to have old associations ended, with the scheme that he now planned. Of all Duffy Bagland's

underlings, only Tim Mecke knew the connection between Silk and the dead gang leader.

Tim could be handled. He had been deputed to aid Silk. He was a useful man; one that would go along. The

easiest course was to kill two birds at a single shot. By keeping Tim with him, Silk could prevent the man

from becoming wise; with Tim in his employ, Silk could have an expert gunman in his employ when he

UPSTAIRS, on the ballroom floor, the man who had arrived when Silk Elverton departed was strolling over

the battle ground with other curious persons. The police were putting a clamp on this procedure, but the

Moving along the floor beside him, shifting with every change of light, a blackened silhouette marked the

walker's progress. No one noticed that strange shadow. Yet it had appeared hereabouts not long before.

The stranger reached the room where Joe Cardona was talking to Foulkrod Kendall. The millionaire was

expressing his own bewilderment. He knew only that he had yanked a gun from Duffy Bagland's grasp. He

"However it happened, Mr. Kendall," he said, in a congratulating tone, "you deserve all the credit we can give

you. This man was dangerous. He was a killer the leader of a desperate mob. You may have saved innocent

The stranger in evening clothes was standing close by. His keen eyes noted the open door through which

Duffy Bagland had come. His gaze fell upon the shortbarreled revolver which Joe Cardona held.

Where had Duffy Bagland gained that weapon? This observer The Shadow, in a conventional guise knew

well that the gang leader would not have carried so small a weapon. The open door the revolver both

were evidence of some one in this picture; some one who had paved the way for Bagland's mob; some one

"Kendall was talking to the Englishman," The Shadow heard a witness say. "You know who I mean that

fellow Elverton, from London. The gangster made a grab for Elverton first; Kendall broke in, and did the

"Guess he was scared," came the laughing reply. "He looked that way. I don't blame him, though."

The tall listener considered the name. Firm lips remained expressionless. The Shadow walked slowly along

the corridor, and reached the deserted room past the coatandhat booth. He went to the telephone and spoke

"Mr. Ronald Elverton?" was the operator's question, "Wait a few moments, sir... Mr. Ronald Elverton has

The Shadow left the telephone. He entered an elevator, and stepped off at a lower floor. From then on, his

IT was not until nearly an hour afterward that a mysterious presence appeared in a blackwalled room, where

The right hand wrote. Its fingers traced a diagram of the ballroom floor at the Gargantuan Hotel. Names

appeared; they were those of Duffy Bagland, Foulkrod Kendall, and Ronald Elverton.

Duffy Bagland, hardened gang leader; Foulkrod Kendall, millionaire manufacturer. They had met tonight in

There must be an explanation for this event. What was the link between? Had the revolver actually belonged

to Foulkrod Kendall? No; the millionaire would probably have admitted it. Whose was it? How did Kendall

The hand of The Shadow underlined the name of Elverton. There was the unknown quantity. An Englishman

To The Shadow, the connection was obvious. Had Elverton given the weapon to Kendall? Had the

Between the names of Bagland and Elverton, The Shadow drew a line. They were linked. Elverton

particularly in the pose of an Englishman at this typically American convention might well have been

The hand drew another line, this time between the names of Elverton and Kendall. The millionaire had been

talking to Kendall when Bagland had appeared. Both men had been involved in the fight. Bagland had been

The names began to fade. Hastily, the hand of The Shadow traced over the letters in two names, so that they

alone remained. Foulkrod Kendall Ronald Elverton. They were the living pair. Duffy Bagland's name had

A whispered laugh spread through the sanctum. The Shadow had met one crook tonight Duffy Bagland.

He had not, however, encountered the hidden person to whom Bagland had spoken over the telephone. That

He must be traced now; but not through the man who was dead. Through a living person Foulkrod Kendall

The Shadow could find this smooth plotter who had played so great a part in tonight's attempted crime.

The light went out. The laugh again reverberated through the sanctum. Its weird mirth died amid empty walls.

THE following morning found two men in a small room of a Manhattan hotel. One, a stocky, heavyset

individual, was shaving at a mirror by a washstand. The other, a languid, lanky sort, was seated in a chair,

"Nice doings at the Gargantuan, Vic," observed the seated man. "Bunch of crooks shot up trying to grab off a

pile of valuable tableware. Solid gold solid silver stuff from the old Winter Palace of the Czar."

"Doesn't interest me, Carl," returned the man who was shaving himself. "I'm interested in phony metals not

"Guess you're right, Vic," he commented. "If you bothered with all the troubles of the New York police,

These two formed a singular pair. It would have been difficult for a stranger to have analyzed them. They

might have passed for traveling salesmen. One would scarcely have taken them for professional detectives.

There was a reason. The work in which these men were engaged was one which required a capability in

masked identity. In this hotel, which they had chosen as their New York residence, both had been living in

They had reputations, but they did not boast of their accomplishments. The man in the chair was Carl

Dolband; the man at the mirror was Vic Marquette. Together, they represented as fine a pair of operatives as

While Dolband continued to read the newspaper, Marquette went on with his shaving, uttering occasional

grunts as the blade of the safety razor pulled. After a few minutes, the newspaper rustled as Dolband cast it to

"Well, Vic," he said, "I'm off for Frisco at noon. I'll drop you a line after I get there."

"More excitement out there," continued Dolband. "Say, Vic; this has been a vacation. I don't know how you

stand it around here. There's plenty of queer money in Manhattan, but it comes in from the outside."

Marquette smiled. He reached for his vest, had extracted something from the lower pocket on the right. He

"Say" Dolband laughed "you are not telling me this is phony! Since when have you been chasing bum

CARL DOLBAND studied the coin. He rang it; he tested its weight. He compared it with another nickel that

he took from his own pocket. Minutes went by while Vic Marquette was donning tie, vest, and coat.

"It's a 1922," continued Dolband. "Say, Vic, there were no nickels coined in that year."

"You're telling me?" laughed Vic. "You know the old gag, Carl that a coin collector will give you a

hundred dollars for a 1922 nickel. A hoax, because there's no such animal. Well, I've proved different, haven't

"Say, Vic," queried Dolband, "where did you get these? They're a perfect job, aren't they?"

"Picked them up in subway change," returned Marquette. "I always look over any coins that I get. Reading

"Guess again, Carl. Do you think that these would have been floating around for ten years without some coin

collector spotting one. They're new, Carl, but the shine has been taken off of them. Some fox is stamping out

"Communicated with the subway people. They're on the lookout. The cashiers at the stations are looking for

The two men left the room. They went downstairs to the hotel grill, and ordered breakfast. It was only a few

minutes after nine when a bell boy entered the grill and approached Vic Marquette.

Vic arose from the table. This was one of the advantages of the small hotel where he and Carl Dolband were

stopping. They were known to the hotel personnel, and messages were brought quietly, without paging.

Vic Marquette was smiling when he returned. He spoke in a low voice as he joined Dolband.

"That's it," was his comment. "They've got something for me. Want me down at the main office as soon as

Hurriedly finishing his meal, Vic shook hands with his fellow operative. Dolband again promised a

communication from San Francisco. Vic left the hotel, and headed for the transit offices.

WHEN he reached his destination, the secretservice operative was ushered into the office of Mr. Blake, an

assistant manager. Here Vic discovered two other persons beside Blake. One was a sadfaced individual

whom Blake introduced as Tompkins, changemaker at an East Side elevated station. The other was a poorly

Pietro complied with gesticulations. Marquette listened solemnly to the Italian's story.

"I runna da poosh cart, see?" began Pietro. "I needa da change, da nickel. I go uppa da elevated an' say to

"Pietro wanted change," explained Tompkins. "I told him that we needed all the nickels we could get for

"Sure," grinned Pietro. "I say maybe disa man no wanta give maybe he wanta take. So when I getta da big

Marquette nodded. He saw immediately that Pietro must have discovered some other source of obtaining

fivecent pieces. With an abundance of the coins, the Italian had simply come to Tompkins to turn in his

"Thees morning," explained Pietro, "Tompkins, he aska me, where you get alla these nickel? I tella him I go

"Cyrus Barbier," said Tompkins. "He has a brass shop half a block from the elevated station."

"Tony Cumo, he worka for da old man," added Pietro. "I tella Tony I needa nickel; he tella me come there. I

"When Pietro told me this story this morning," interposed Tompkins, "I brought him here right away. I sorted

Blake shoved two boxes across the desk. Both were marked with the respective dates. Blake lifted the lids;

from each box he took a few segregated coins, and placed them on the desk. Vic Marquette examined them.

THE secretservice man arose. He studied the three men, and detected an anxious look that was now

"Don't you worry," Marquette told the Italian. "You stay here a while, with Tompkins. I'll see you later. You

The Italian grinned. Marquette made a sign to Blake. The assistant manager walked to the door with the

"Keep Pietro here," said Vic, in a low tone. "I figure he's all right. I don't want him going back to his pushcart

for a while, though. I'm going to raid that brass shop as soon as I can get some detectives from headquarters."

"I'll keep him here," nodded Blake. "Tompkins will talk to him. He knows the man."

The secretservice man went to the place indicated. He smiled as he called detective headquarters. The trail

of the 1922 nickels was clear. Within an hour, Vic and a band of raiders would swoop down upon a

Carl Dolband would be surprised when he heard of this. No wonder. Carl spent his time reading newspapers

and following current crime, while Vic Marquette preferred to study things that went on about him.

Little did Vic Marquette realize that fate was tricking him at this very moment. Those headlines which Carl

Dolband had read carried no mention of counterfeiters, yet the events of last night were strangely related to

The failure of Duffy Bagland and his mobsmen to gain the Russian plate was changing the aspect of the case

upon which Vic Marquette was working. The trail of the 1922 nickels was due to lengthen into an amazing

WHILE Vic Marquette was planning his secret raid upon the obscure brass shop owned by Cyrus Barbier, a

morning visitor was approaching that exact spot. Silk Elverton, dapper but less swaggering than usual, was

strolling from the elevated station along the side street, where Barbier's place was located.

The smooth crook stopped in front of Barbier's window. He studied the display of brass and smiled. Barbier's

shop was like others on this street a glittering emporium of cheap metal wares that attracted those who

Silk entered the store. A pastyfaced boy came over to wait on him. Silk surveyed the youth, and quietly

"In back, you mean," interjected Silk. "Go get him. Tell him the Englishman wants to see him."

Silk took an interest in brass andirons. While the crook studied these articles, a door at the rear of the shop

opened far enough for a pair of eyes to peer through. A whispered talk went on behind the door. The boy

Silk went through the rear door. He came into a workshop where deserted benches and idle lathes were in

evidence. There was a door beyond. Silk opened it, and entered a smaller shop. This was a windowless room,

Standing within this room was a wizened, grayhaired man, whose stooped shoulders seemed to bear an

invisible weight The man's eyes were sharp. As they looked toward the visitor, a toothless grin appeared upon

"It's a wonder you are seeing me," laughed Silk. "Remember those florins and half crowns you stamped out

for me? I nearly was nabbed passing them in Bermuda. If it hadn't been for my appearance, they'd have taken

"I know." The old man shook his head wearily. "If I get the weight, I lose the ring. If I have the sound, the

He reached in a drawer beneath a workbench and brought out a handful of fivecent pieces, which he passed

SILK studied the coins approvingly. He smiled as he noted that they were of different dates. Some were new

"I pass them out through people in this neighborhood," explained Barbier. "Pushcart men and other peddlers.

"Right here," returned Barbier. "But I have hidden them away. They are no good to me. I have always failed

"Yes. But never with good results. Other metals give the ring, but they are too light all except lead. When I

"Yes," asserted Barbier, "but it has driven me mad. The metal can be had; but who will produce it? It would

"Barbier" Silk's tone was confidential "I have obtained the metal that you require. I have arranged a

"Somewhere else," smiled Silk. "A long way off. A place where you can live under cover. There is plenty in

it, Barbier. We will profit both of us, and others beside. You will become wealthy."

"Only in a small way. Where I am taking you, Barbier, the silver may be had. There will be no need for

The old man's eyes gleamed. Silk Elverton waxed loquacious as he played upon Barbier's cupidity.

"We shall loose a silver scourge!" exclaimed Silk. "We shall sweep this country like a plague. Silver silver

The wizened man began to rub his hands as he looked about the place. He shook his head slowly; immediate

While Silk was watching Barbier, a low, rapid knocking sounded at the door. The old man opened it. A short,

"Oh, the Englishman, eh?" laughed Tony, showing a goldtoothed smile as he extended his hand.

TONY CUMO turned suddenly to Cyrus Barbier. The Italian's grin changed to a serious expression.

"It's getting pretty hot," said Cumo. "We're working it too strong. What do you think of it?"

The final sentence of Cumo's question was directed to Silk Elverton. The slick crook was quick to take

"I have just told Barbier," he remarked, "of a real opportunity. Dimes, quarters, half dollars" Tony Cumo's

smile was gleaming as Silk rose up the value scale "instead of fivecent pieces. I have the alloy. I have the

"Say" the Italian's tone was serious "the sooner, the better. This nickel peddling is getting bad. You know

that pushcart man, Pietro? Well, he isn't out on the job this morning. Some one saw him earlier but he isn't

"Maybe something is up I don't know. But I was coming in here to tell you to stow away those dies "

There was intelligence in Tony Cumo's speech. Silk Elverton worked upon it. He saw that the Italian's

"Get busy," ordered Silk serenely. "You and Barbier are with me from now on. Don't ask me about the lay

you'll see it soon enough. Clear out all the phony apparatus in this place and move.

"This means a lot to me. You two are the men I need. I'll make it worth your while. I'm leaving it to you,

The crook pulled a sheaf of bills from his pocket. He extracted five, each of a hundreddollar denomination,

"That'll cover traveling expenses," assured Silk. "There'll be plenty more when you get to New Avalon,

"Don't worry," grinned Tony Cumo. "All that we'll leave will be brassstamping equipment. Say, boss" the

Italian was speaking to Barbier "you go over and see Cleghorn. He was always dickering to buy out this

joint as a brass shop. Just tell him you're going away for your health. He's made you a price for everything as

Cyrus Barbier hesitated. Tony Cumo clapped the old man on his stooped shoulders. Nodding, Barbier started

"You're a great guy, Tony," he remarked. "You bring that old duck with you. Register at the New Avalon

The Italian was at work detaching apparatus. His work was swift and methodical. As Cyrus Barbier's helper,

Tony Cumo was more than a mere handy man. Silk Elverton grinned as he saw Tony open a drawer, pour a

quantity of nickels into a bag, and remove a revolver which he thrust into his pocket.

The dandified crook went out through the brass shop. He walked past the slouching youth who was on duty,

FIFTEEN minutes after Silk's departure, Cyrus Barbier returned to the back room of the brass shop, carrying

a handful of bills. The old man was counting the money when Tony Cumo interrupted him.

"Shove that dough in your pocket," ordered the Italian. "I'm going up and bring down a couple of your

"But I should take more time," protested Barbier. "I must be sure to get all of my belongings "

"I'll bring enough," interrupted Tony. "You've got your money for the shop. Let's get out in a hurry. Maybe

old man Cleghorn will begin to think there may be a catch to it. Come on before he comes around to chew

Tony pointed to a few odd details that he had left unfinished. The Italian went out through the large

workroom, and ascended a flight of stairs. He came down with two suitcases. He called to the boy.

The boy came to life. By the time Tony had finished tying up heavy packages in the windowless workroom,

the youth had returned. With Cyrus Barbier and the boy helping, Tony engineered the transportation of the

"We'll stop at my place," he growled to Barbier. "Just long enough for me to grab a few things."

"I'm taking Mr. Barbier for a trip," he announced. "He needs a vacation. Doctor says he isn't well. Old

The taxi whisked away, leaving the youth gaping at the door of the brass shop. The youth went back into the

shop, sat down in a chair, and began to yawn. In ten minutes, he was half asleep.

HIS awakening came when he felt some one shaking him by the shoulder. He looked up to observe a stocky,

Vic Marquette turned to the door and gave a signal. Two plainclothes men entered. The secretservice

He saw the door beyond. He went into the little room. He turned on the single light.

In a few moments, Vic understood. He could see the signs that betokened a hasty departure.

He called to the men who had come with him. They entered. Vic began a methodical study of the equipment.

It was obvious that articles had been removed. Vic's practiced eye observed the setup. Camouflaged as

machinery for stamping brass, this equipment could well have served the purpose of punching out counterfeit

"We'll search the place," announced the secretservice operative. "Meanwhile, get a couple of men out to

While Vic Marquette was still in possession of the brass shop, a detective arrived to state that Tony Cumo

had disappeared. The boy had told Marquette that Barbier and Cumo had left by taxi. The checkup proved

that the cab had stopped long enough for Tony to enter and leave the house where he lived.

While detectives followed the usual routine of notifying headquarters regarding the fugitives, Vic Marquette

He soon discovered that the young fellow knew nothing about what had been going on here. The brass shop

was simply a blind to cover up the counterfeiting activities; the boy had been kept in his proper place.

The crossexamination, however, brought forth one fact. Tony Cumo had told the boy that Cleghorn was to

be his new boss. Marquette learned the location of Cleghorn's brass shop, and headed there. The proprietor

was absent, but Marquette saw enough of the place to decide that it must be a legitimate business.

Back at Barbier's, Marquette found that the detectives were working on the inference that Barbier and Cumo

There was sufficient charge against them to warrant their prompt arrest if the police should discover them.

Marquette remained alone at the brass shop. At times, he strolled down to Cleghorn's to learn if the proprietor

IT was late afternoon when Cleghorn arrived. The brass man was a quietfaced old fellow who showed signs

of worry when Vic Marquette began to question him. It did not take the secretservice operative long to learn

"He came to see me just as I was going out," Cleghorn explained. "I had offered him money for his brass

business. He had refused my price. He told me that he wanted to go away, that he would take the offer after

"Yes. I couldn't understand why he intended to leave so suddenly. I began to withdraw my offer, fearing that

something was wrong. Then he pleaded with me. Barbier said that he must visit his daughter I knew he had

"He mentioned a place called New Avalon. He said that his daughter lived in a town near there. He convinced

me that the business deal was a fair one. I didn't even go down to the shop with him. I went uptown instead,

"All right," decided Vic Marquette. "I guess that's all you can tell me. If Barbier comes back, or if you hear

Marquette walked away, a grim expression on his stolid face. He doubted that Cyrus Barbier or Tony Cumo

would return. If they did, the police could step in to get them. Vic Marquette was convinced that Cyrus

Barbier had let Cleghorn know his actual destination, in anxiety to complete the sale of the brass stock.

A rare bird had flown with him, another Tony Cumo. But Vic Marquette was not disgruntled. The

Silk Elverton had gone to New Avalon. So had Tony Cumo and Cyrus Barbier. Foulkrod Kendall was there.

A YOUNG man alighted from a limited train that had stopped in the New Avalon station. He tendered two

valises and a briefcase to a waiting redcap, and followed the porter through the spacious terminal.

The man who had arrived in New Avalon walked with a brisk stride, and was keenly observant as he passed

through the station. When he reached the cab stand, he glanced along the lighted streets to gain a first

"New Avalon Hotel," he ordered, as he stepped into the cab and lounged back on the seat.

Riding through the main streets of New Avalon, the stranger continued to eye the sights. He noted the name

of Kendall above a large store; the same name appeared in lights over a theater marquee.

The New Avalon Hotel was a modern structure with a goodsized lobby. The young man entered and

approached the desk. He wrote the name of Harry Vincent upon the register. The clerk called the bell boy to

Upstairs in the hotel, Harry Vincent stared from the window. His eyes again rested upon the electric sign

The name Kendall was of real importance to Harry Vincent. This young man had come to New Avalon for

the definite purpose of finding all that he could learn about Foulkrod Kendall. As an agent of The Shadow,

Already, Harry Vincent had encountered surprises. He had expected to find New Avalon a thriving city. The

place had exceeded his impressions; it bore the semblance of a metropolis. Harry had known that he would

find the name of Kendall in prominence; he was amazed at its domination of the entire city.

The Kendall Silverware Corporation, recognized as the chief industry in New Avalon, had evidently gained

such importance that all other enterprises were dependent upon it. At one time, Harry decided, the silverware

Off above some lower buildings, Harry caught the flash of another electric sign which blazoned forth the

Harry Vincent smiled. Kendall and New Avalon were practically synonymous. It was almost strange that the

city itself did not bear the name of its most prominent resident. Locating Foulkrod Kendall would not be

DESCENDING to the lobby, Harry approached the desk. The clerk on duty appeared to be intelligent. In a

town like this, the simplest way to gain a line on local affairs was to talk with a man in his position.

"I like your city," remarked Harry. "It's my first visit here; I'm rather surprised to find it such a flourishing

"Kendall," mused Harry. "I've seen the name ever since I've been in town. Is that the silverware

"Believe me or not," returned the clerk soberly, "they wanted to change the name of New Avalon to Kendall.

"He was. He still is, for that matter. One man can't have everything, you know, even though he wants it.

"He controls it like a lot of other affairs. But there are other stockholders in the Kendall Theater

Corporation. It's a chain six or seven theaters in New Avalon, and others in the larger towns near here.

"He's the general controller, or grand muckymuck, or whatever you want to call it. The fellow in actual

charge is Clayton Landow, son of Hiram Landow, the new governor. He's engaged to Kendall's niece. So it

Harry Vincent smiled as he strolled away from the desk. Evidently Foulkrod Kendall was too domineering to

be popular in New Avalon. Harry had seen cases like this before; but never on such a large scale. Foulkrod

Kendall had evidently used his power to gain some influence in every commercial enterprise of any

The Hotel Kendall, rival to the New Avalon Hotel, was probably of Kendall's making; that might account for

the sourness of the clerk to whom Harry had spoken. Whatever the case might be, it was to Harry's liking. As

he strolled along the street outside the hotel, the young man realized that his task of reaching Foulkrod

The theater interested Harry Vincent. He stood across the street, and studied the lighted lobby. Then, going

back to the hotel, he reentered the lobby with the intention of going to his room.

As he glanced toward the clerk's desk, Harry noted that the man was talking to a stocky stranger. Something

familiar about the heavyset man caused Harry to pause close by. He could hear the reply that the clerk was

"Sorry, sir, but Mr. Barbier left no address," said the clerk. "He checked out of here this morning."

"A gentleman named Anthony Cummings was here with Mr. Barbier," declared the clerk. "Perhaps he is the

The stocky man turned away from the desk. Harry Vincent caught a glimpse of a swarthy face. As he saw

WELL did Harry know the secretservice operative! Their paths had crossed before, when Harry, in the

Vic Marquette would have recognized Harry Vincent had he seen him. The Shadow's agent and the

secretservice man were friends, but Harry did not care to meet Marquette at the present moment.

There was nothing to indicate that they were here on the same purpose. But Vic, had he observed Harry

Vincent, would have suspected so. The Shadow, when he worked, preferred to move alone. Harry Vincent

Returning to his room, Harry considered the conversation that he had overheard. Vic Marquette was looking

for two persons: one named Barbier; the other, Cumo. This was a fact that Harry would include in his report

For the present, however, Harry Vincent had another mission. That was the gaining of contact with Foulkrod

Kendall. Seating himself at a writing desk, Harry opened his briefcase and took out a limp leather binder.

Each batch was an information sheet accompanied by credentials. With the aid of these, Harry Vincent could

appear in any one of several capacities. As a realestate promoter, a manufacturer's agent, a specialty

Harry laid aside the bulkiest packet of all. It was one that dealt with tableware manufacture. Harry had

brought it along as a sure bet in case all others failed. He decided that he would not need it now. There was

This packet referred to a business enterprise known as the United Theater Chain. It listed the officers of the

company, the theaters which they owned, the methods which they employed, and their principal offices. With

the packet was an envelope which contained business cards bearing Harry Vincent's name.

Upon a handy sheet of paper, Harry Vincent wrote the name of Clayton Landow. He clipped this to the

packet. He put away all the other stacks of papers, stowing them in a valise. Then, in methodical fashion,

Harry set to work studying the data that lay before him. It would take some time to digest all of it.

IT was late in the evening when Harry Vincent had completed his selfappointed task. He put the theatrical

papers in the briefcase, and wrote a brief note in blue inkcoded words which related to his night's work,

including the discovery that Vic Marquette was in New Avalon, and what the secretservice man had said.

Harry sealed this message in an envelope. With another pen one that contained darker ink he wrote the

address of Rutledge Mann, in the Badger Building, New York City. Harry stamped the envelope, and went

When he returned, Harry Vincent decided to retire. He took a last look from the window, toward the spot

where the Kendall Theater sign glimmered. That sign was the lure which would guide him to tomorrow's

The hand of The Shadow had already appeared in New Avalon. Through Harry Vincent, his agent, the master

of deduction was following the clew that he had gained after foiling Duffy Bagland and a horde of New York

Singularly, the trail which The Shadow sought had already crossed that of Vic Marquette. Tonight, Harry

Vincent had done well. Tomorrow, he would accomplish more. This capable agent was trained in The

Should Harry Vincent discover further evidence of matters amiss, there would be one definite result. The

That was The Shadow's way. Engaged in fighting present crimes, he sent his agents abroad to discover the

Harry Vincent was meditative as he turned out the light of the hotel room. His quick plan of action, his

discovery of Vic Marquette both were factors that convinced him of adventure which lay ahead.

Already, Harry could sense impending complications that would be sufficient to bring The Shadow here!

Harry surveyed the speaker, who gave him the friendly handclasp. Clayton Landow, general manager of the

Kendall Theater Corporation, was a man of about thirty years of age, with frank and friendly eyes. He wore a

serious, businesslike expression, that was in keeping with the important position which he held.

"Sorry," remarked Landow, as he looked across his desk. "I understand that you called this morning, and have

"Yes," returned Harry. "They told me in the outside office that you were out of town."

"I have quite a few theaters to take care of," said Landow, with a smile. "I spend two or three days a week

Landow smiled more broadly. He fingered the card which lay upon his desk the one which Harry had sent

"You represent the United Theater Chain," said Landow. "A large concern, and a good one. I do not,

"That is easily explained," answered Harry. "The United is increasing its territory. We plan to take in this

district. Usually, we deal with individual theaters. Our plan is one of amalgamation."

"So I have heard," said Landow. "You absorb single theaters as units in your system. Here, however, you are

considering an organization which already constitutes a chain. There are sixteen units in the Kendall Theater

"All the better," stated Harry, "Our proposition will hold good on a larger scale. Through association with

"Not one bit," interposed Landow, with a slow shake of his head. "The Kendall Theater Corporation is

established. I know what you have to offer, Mr. Vincent. I am sorry to end your hopes. We do not intend

amalgamation. On the contrary, we have planned expansion of our own individual enterprise."

The bluntness of young Landow's statement did not faze Harry Vincent. Playing the part of a skillful

promoter, The Shadow's agent sought to find a loophole in Landow's decisive answer.

"Your opinion is a natural one," declared Harry. "Nevertheless, the situation is one which we have previously

encountered. Practice has shown that when circuits such as yours have accepted the United proposition, the

results have been even better than when individual theaters have joined with us. Naturally, I feel that your

"Looking for a higher court of appeal, eh?" questioned Landow. "I don't blame you, Mr. Vincent. The general

manager of an organization is not the final authority, and I do not pretend to hold full power. Our board of

"He has," returned Landow. "That, in a sense, is the reason for my frank decision. The name of Kendall is of

much more importance in this district than that of the United Theater Chain. Our identity is a stimulus to

"You would like to hear what Mr. Kendall has to say. That is easily arranged. It is hardly necessary, however.

LANDOW'S smile became sympathetic as the young man noted Harry's look of resignation. Landow seemed

to appreciate the situation as Harry would naturally view it. Therefore, although he had stated definite facts,

"I can imagine what you are thinking," said Landow, "Your visit here has proven a blind one. Not only have

you failed in New Avalon; you are checked throughout this entire territory. It would be unfair to ask you to

go back to New York with no other report to give than this short visit with me. Therefore, I shall arrange for

"I would appreciate it," said Harry. "May add a request? If I could talk to Foulkrod Kendall at a time when he

"That can be arranged. An evening appointment would be best. How long do you intend to be in town?"

Clayton Landow was thoughtful. He understood Harry Vincent's position, and he was sorry that he had been

forced to give such a brusque turndown to the United representative. Landow glanced at a clock. It indicated

"Let me speak to Miss Kendall," he requested. Then, after a pause: "Hello, Miriam. This is Clayton... Yes...

At seven sharp. That is why I am calling. I have a friend whom I would like to bring to dinner... A man from

New York. A Mr. Vincent theatrical representative... Yes, he is anxious to meet your uncle... Excellent. I

"You are going out to dinner with me," the manager announced. "A party at Foulkrod Kendall's home. You

will meet Mr. Kendall there, and you will have occasion to remember your visit to New Avalon."

"I appreciate this," declared Harry. "It is very kind of you to offer such an opportunity "

"That's all right," said Landow. "Don't worry about evening clothes it's just an informal affair. I'll stop at

HARRY VINCENT found it hard to repress his elation as he walked back to his hotel. Here was the

opportunity he had wanted. A mere business trip to Foulkrod Kendall's office would hardly have sufficed. A

Time passed rapidly until half past six. Harry Vincent was in the lobby, carefully watching out for a chance

entry of Vic Marquette, when he saw Clayton Landow enter the revolving door of the hotel.

Harry joined his new friend, and they drove in the theatrical manager's coupe until they had passed the

outskirts of the city. The car turned right from a broad road, Landow making a comment as he swung the

"Straight ahead," he said, "leads to the new silverware factory. A wonderful enterprise, that business. Many

of the employees live in the neighborhood of the plant. This road takes us to Kendall's mansion."

Another turn brought the coupe between a pair of huge stone pillars. Harry looked along a treelined

driveway; then the car came to a stop in front of a magnificent residence constructed in vast Colonial fashion.

Clayton Landow conducted his guest into the building. A servant ushered them into a hallway; then into a

large living room, where Harry was introduced to a group of people. The Shadow's agent found himself

"Glad to meet you," said the blufffaced millionaire. "So you're from New York, eh? Quite a way from there

"You could have received your answer there, Vincent," observed Landow, with a smile.

"I was at a silverware manufacturers' convention," explained Kendall. "That's my chief business. These

The question was addressed to a tall, stoopshouldered man who was standing close by. It brought a slow

Harry had been introduced to Conrad Guyon, but this was his first inkling that the wise, sophisticated

"The theatrical business has proven profitable," declared Guyon, in a slow, decided tone. "Beyond my

expectations, I must state. This must be perplexing to you, Mr. Vincent to find a silverware manufacturer

and a physician as the ruling forces in a theatrical enterprise, with a governor's son as the general manager."

"Doctor Guyon is a wise investor," asserted Kendall. "He holds stock in various enterprises in which I am

associated. He still persists in being a physician, but he has made his fortune through commercial

HARRY noted that he and these three men now formed a group apart from all the rest. This was evidently a

planned procedure, for Clayton Landow promptly brought up the subject which he had discussed with Harry

"Regarding the United Theater Chain," began the governor's son. "I told Mr. Vincent that he might mention it

"Landow called me at my office," interrupted Kendall, turning to Harry. "He told me why you were in town.

The answer which he gave you was final. I have absolute authority to decide; nevertheless, I discussed the

subject with Doctor Guyon, who is as large a shareholder in Kendall Theaters as myself. His opinion is the

"I do not doubt," continued Kendall, "that your proposition has its merits. Nevertheless, our decision stands.

We are making the profits that we expect. That closes us to all outside suggestions."

There was a slight challenge in Kendall's tone. Harry Vincent caught it, and nodded his head in

acknowledgment. He knew that he was welcome here as a guest; as a proponent of a rejected business deal,

he might lose Kendall's favor. He could see signs of apprehension displayed by Clayton Landow.

"I simply needed your own answer, Mr. Kendall," he said. "I appreciate your frankness. It enables me to go

back to New York and report that I have done my utmost. Let me wish you the greatest of success in your

theatrical enterprises, and let me add that should you ever care to change your decision, the United Theater

Clayton Landow seemed pleased by Harry's tactful statement. Doctor Guyon still nodded his approval.

Foulkrod Kendall smiled. The millionaire felt himself a theatrical magnate. This visit from the representative

Besides putting himself in Kendall's favor, Harry had gained a keen insight into the millionaire's character,

and that of two of Kendall's associates. Kendall, himself, was a domineering man. Although he was

commercially successful, Harry suspected that the millionaire was not above petty and unfair practices.

Doctor Conrad Guyon, on the contrary, impressed Harry as a man of science, who had wisely invested his

earnings with going enterprises. From the business standpoint, Guyon was no more than Kendall's echo,

Clayton Landow, a likable young chap, was Kendall's prospective nephew by marriage. As son of the

governor of this State, Landow probably gave distinction to the theatrical venture. Despite his title of general

manager, Landow was actually no more than a detail man who took all important orders direct from Kendall.

The guests went in to dinner. During the sumptuous repast, Harry made the acquaintance of a young lady on

his left. He learned new facts; that Doctor Guyon, recognized highly as a psychiatrist, was newly appointed

examining physician in the State penitentiary, located in New Avalon; and that the marriage of Clayton

Landow and Miriam Kendall, Foulkrod's niece, was scheduled to take place within three months.

IT was after dinner, however, when the guests were chatting in the living room, that the principal event

occurred so far as Harry Vincent was concerned. Within the space of a few minutes, The Shadow's agent

A new guest was announced. Harry arose as the man entered the living room, and faced a tall, immaculately

garbed young man whose shrewd but handsome countenance was adorned with a neatly pointed mustache. It

was not until he was shaking hands that Harry heard the arrival's name. Foulkrod Kendall announced it as he

"Mr. Ronald Elverton," said the millionaire. "He is a representative from HighbyTyson, Limited, England's

The name rang in Harry's ears. This was the man whom he had come to seek. Once Elverton had reached

Elverton passed to others of the group. Harry Vincent noted the man's profile. Harry's suspicions were

"If that chap is from HighbyTyson, I'm actually the representative of the United Theater Chain!"

The masquerading agent of The Shadow felt sure that he had discovered a crook in smooth disguise.

Tonight, Harry would send a telegram to New York. Its innocently worded message would tell Rutledge

Mann that the quest was ended. One of two replies would come, to tell Harry whether or not to remain in

Considering the future, however, Harry felt sure that his recall would be dependent entirely upon The

Shadow's present activities. If the master of darkness were free to leave New York, he would come at once; if

THE following afternoon, Clayton Landow was surprised when a boy entered his office to announce that

Foulkrod Kendall was outside. It was seldom that the millionaire visited the offices of the Kendall Theater

Corporation. Usually, Landow was summoned to Kendall's own office, in the Kendall Building.

Landow, himself, hurried to the door to admit the overlord. Kendall walked pompously into the office and

motioned to Landow to close the door. When they were alone, the millionaire, seated beside Landow's desk,

"I believe so," replied Landow, in surprise. "He called me this morning. He said that he expected to leave

"Because I don't like him." Kendall's tone was positive. "That's sufficient, isn't it?"

"Indirectly. We have frozen out all competition, but there have been attempts on the part of independents to

"Suppose," continued Kendall, "that this man Vincent plans to organize such independents? It may mean a

"That would not be in keeping with the United policy," returned Landow. "You need fear nothing on that

Foulkrod Kendall appeared to be in a faultfinding mood. He walked about the office, wearing a worried

"We can't be too sure of our managers," he declared. "They may be reached, if a plot is on foot. It means that

"I see room for improvement," objected Kendall. "I can point out one thing right from the start. That is the

"Here is the fault," declared Kendall. "The lists are made out on Monday morning. The managers go to their

local banks, and turn in change for paper currency. Then you collect; but you leave a residue on hand."

"From five hundred to a thousand dollars in silver, depending upon the size of the house."

"That must be stopped," asserted Kendall. "I want collections in full. Let them change all silver into paper

He led the young man to the window, and pointed to the street below. Landow observed a light armored truck

"Brought it around to give you a look," said Kendall, with a laugh. "Had it up at the plant; we don't need it

there. That's going out every Monday morning. It will make the circuit before the theaters open. One

"That means they can turn in all the cash as a separate transaction. I don't trust those fellows, Landow. Have

"It will simplify them," returned Kendall. "When you get the full receipts, the truck will come to take you up

to my office in the plant. You can turn all the cash over to me. It will be checked by my accountants. Then it

will go into bank deposits. Remember, Landow, I am director of the Kendall Theaters. Other men hold stock;

CLAYTON LANDOW could not see the need for this new system. In a sense, it lessened his importance to

the theater chain. At the same time, it was Kendall's idea, and it relieved Landow of much responsibility.

Cash receipts paper money from local and neighborhood banks every cent taken in by the theaters during

the week, would go through the young man's hands to Kendall's office. Each theater, in turn, would receive,

While Landow was considering the arrangement, Kendall began to talk on another angle of the business.

"There is a lot of waste effort in connection with these theaters," complained the manufacturer. "I see

possibilities for more efficient efforts. Understand, Clayton" Kendall's tone became almost fatherly "I am

not trying to criticize you. My purpose is to give you good advice. I am a task maker; that is why I have been

"I understand," returned Landow. "I feel that I have been doing well with this work, but I feel that there is

"We must begin at bed rock," decided Kendall. "I foresee dangerous competition. We must be so thoroughly

organized that if the United Theater Chain tries to compete with us, we can win. I have given you a great deal

of authority, Clayton. I feel that you have done well. I merely want to make sure that we have the best

The millionaire stood by the window, looking out. The sight of the truck, now driving away, evidently

"The new system goes into effect at once," announced Kendall. "We will keep records at my office, to check

Clayton Landow went to the office safe. He brought out packages of records. He spread them out for

"My own record," explained Landow. "Notice how I have listed the receipts from each theater."

"Old books from the individual theaters," said Landow. "I collect them, check them with my own records,

and keep them in accordance with our plan. The older ones are destroyed when they have passed their period

"Until a new set of reports have come in from the theaters. I keep three sets of old books, each covering a

"I know that. Therefore, they are unnecessary. At the same time, they afford an insight into the methods of

Kendall's brusque manner ended. He began to talk on other subjects. He mentioned that he did not intend to

IN his conversation, Foulkrod Kendall displayed changing moods, particularly when he discoursed with

The approaching marriage between young Landow and Kendall's niece, Miriam, was much to the

millionaire's liking. Hiram Landow, Clayton's father, was a powerful figure in State politics. As governor, he

favored industrial development. Foulkrod Kendall knew that Clayton Landow formed a definite link between

The millionaire watched Clayton Landow put the books back into the safe. He glanced at his watch, and

noted that it was nearly five o'clock. He remarked that he must return to the factory. He made his departure,

and Clayton Landow, watching from the window, saw the millionaire's limousine drive away.

Clayton Landow intended to call on Miriam Kendall that evening, but not until after eight o'clock. He

decided to dine at the New Avalon Hotel. He went to his downtown apartment, changed his attire, and

reached the hotel at half past six. In the dining room, he chanced to observe Harry Vincent at an obscure

In his study of Harry Vincent, Clayton Landow could not agree with Foulkrod Kendall. The governor's son

was convinced that Harry had come here for a legitimate reason; that since his purpose had failed, he would

return to New York without making any other negotiations. On this account, Landow was relieved when he

heard Harry state that he intended to leave on the night train which left New Avalon at ten o'clock.

Dinner over, Landow offered to drive Harry to the station to make reservations. Harry accepted the offer.

They reached the station at half past seven; Landow was with Harry when The Shadow's agent bought his

tickets. They drove back to the hotel. They alighted from the car, and Landow extended his hand to say

AT that moment a dull roar sounded from far above. Landow looked up to spy the lights of an airplane that

"On the south side of the city," informed Landow. "Taxi service is supplied. Air travel is still something of a

After Clayton Landow had driven away, Harry Vincent went directly into the hotel. He glanced about to

make sure that Vic Marquette was not in the lobby; assured of this, he approached the desk, and told the clerk

"I'm taking the ten o'clock for New York," said Harry. "It will be all right for me to remain in the room until

In his room, Harry completed packing; then sat down at the writing desk and wrote out a brief report. He

sealed it in an envelope, and placed this with a second envelope that he had prepared the night before. He set

It was after nine o'clock when Harry walked out with the porter. The young man locked the door of the room

behind him. He went down to the lobby and paid his bill, but kept the key in his possession. As though by

When Harry had departed, he had left one light burning the lamp on the writing desk. That illumination had

not been disturbed. Nevertheless, a change had taken place. Harry, in leaving, had placed his two envelopes

Harry smiled. His time calculation had been precise. The airplane overhead; Landow's statement regarding

taxi service in from the airport both explained the reason for the missing envelopes.

Some one had come in from the airport, to visit Harry's room, unlocking it with a master key. Harry knew

A telegram from Rutledge Mann had given Harry these instructions. Harry's work in New Avalon was ended.

The Shadow was here, and in possession of all the facts that Harry Vincent had gleaned.

From now on, budding plots in New Avalon would be under the surveillance of the master sleuth. Beginning

with Harry's reports, The Shadow, unseen and unknown, would take up the work against developing crime!

FOULKROD KENDALL had spoken the truth when he had stated that he was going to his factory. The

millionaire was a man who lived on business. He frequently went to the plant in the evening. It was not an

Hence, Clayton Landow, at dinner with Harry Vincent, had mentioned Kendall's whereabouts when the

millionaire's name had been brought up. Kendall's plan for the evening had gone into Harry's final report to

Before The Shadow had received that report, however, Foulkrod Kendall was already stationed in his factory

office, awaiting the arrival of a special visitor. A rap at the side door of Kendall's sumptuous office told the

Kendall opened the door. Silk Elverton entered. The smooth crook smiled as he approached the millionaire.

"That side door is a great idea," he remarked. "I didn't have any trouble finding it."

"I left it open for you," returned Kendall. "It is my own private mode of entry. It will serve you as well. Here

Kendall led the way through an empty outer office, then down a deserted side corridor. The factory had

various ins and outs; Silk realized quickly that Kendall could follow a course through here without

The dull rumble of machinery was in evidence. Kendall explained that the factory was engaged in night work.

Silk smiled. Whether this was legitimate business or subterfuge did not matter. Some activity in the plant

would be useful at nights. That was the time when the hidden workers were employed.

Kendall stopped at an obscure door. He unlocked it with the same key that fitted the special entrance to his

"This is an experimental room," said the millionaire. "Only myself and those workers whom I delegate are

allowed to enter. It has long been accepted as an institution in this plant. Moreover, it has its own storeroom,

Kendall rapped quietly at an inner door. It opened. Silk accompanied the millionaire into a compact

workshop. The room had no windows; it was well illuminated. Its occupants were three men who waved a

CYRUS BARBIER, Tony Cumo, Tim Mecke these formed the trio. Barbier, in overalls and goggles, was

standing by a heavy machine, set up for use. Cumo was also attired in working clothes; Mecke wore a

"Great," responded Silk. "You've handled my men with good effect. Let's see the wheels run."

Cyrus Barbier grinned at the suggestion. He mumbled toothless words, and Tony Cumo went to his post. Tim

Mecke joined Kendall and Elverton. At a command from Barbier, Tony drew a lever. Machinery began to

Silk Elverton watched in elation as the heavy arm of the stamping machine pounded out its work. Shining

metal disks dropped in rapid succession, clattering as they fell into the receptacle below. Barbier was

"I had the equipment," explained Kendall. "Disk cutters, stamping machines, and all. They supplied the dies.

The millionaire dipped his hand among the falling disks, and scooped out a handful. He poured shining silver

half dollars into Silk's eager hinds. The smooth crook rang them; he weighed them. He tossed them back into

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed in enthusiasm. "Look at them fall! Say those will stand the test!"

Silk followed the manufacturer. They reached a large, solidwalled room, and there Silk observed huge

stacks of silver strips. He examined one of the ribbonlike articles, and noted its thickness.

"For half dollars," stated Kendall. "These others are rolled in quarter and dime thicknesses. We do all that

They went back into the room where the stamping machine was pounding out its flow of coinage. Kendall

showed Silk bins in which sample coins were in evidence. He picked up a handful of dimes, and pointed to

"Old dates," remarked the millionaire. "Not too shiny, either. You found me a prize, Elverton, when you sent

this man Barbier here. From now on, the manufacture of silverware will be a joke. Here is the money."

Silk ginned. The statement was doubly correct. Then the smooth crook pointed to the coins, and put a pointed

"You've arranged to unload it?" he asked. "You know my idea to travel around and pass the queer "

"Later," interposed Kendall. "We're going back into the office, Elverton. I'll tell you everything there."

The plotters departed. They left Barbier and Cumo at the machine. Tim Mecke was stacking coins at a bench.

The throb and pounding of machinery was no longer audible after Kendall and Silk had passed the outer

IN his office, Kendall motioned Silk to a chair. In a quiet tone, the millionaire began to outline the plans as

"It will be wise," said Kendall, "for you to make only occasional visits to my home. In fact, it would be best

for me to say that you have left New Avalon, but are expecting to return after a short trip about the country."

"Barbier and Cumo are working at night," Kendall went on. "They are only two of many employees in my

factory. They have a remote house on the outskirts of the little settlement located here.

"Tim Mecke is living there also. He will prove valuable. I have made him one of the men working on the

armored car that I use to carry pay rolls. His only duties, however, will be in connection with distribution of

"Yes," said Kendall. "But before I come to that, let me tell you about our potential output. I was ready to

flood the market with Kendallware of low silver content the alloy which will stand up as Sterling. I have

invested thousands of dollars in that material. It will be used exclusively for coinage."

"Wise," remarked Silk. "You don't want any comeback on account of the tableware."

"I shall produce Sterling silverware," said Kendall. "It will be priced low enough to uphold the claim that I

made to other manufacturers. I can afford to lose some money on tableware, if necessary. The machine is

"Naturally, the output is greater in total value when half dollars are coined. Quarters are effective, also. We

are concentrating on them to gain a reserve supply; then we can punch out dimes when we are somewhat

"Perfect," said Kendall. "You will be surprised, Elverton, when I tell you confidentially that this alloy runs

only ten cents to the dollar. Such low cost is possible, due to the present decline of the silver market, which

"I intend to send out one thousand dollars in silver to each of the Kendall Theaters, every Monday morning.

The larger houses can be given additional funds. Therefore, I estimate an outlet of twenty thousand dollars.

"I intend to install a second machine," stated Kendall. "Furthermore, I have other forms of outlet. The

company stores, various enterprises with which I am associated; these can use silver money. I shall be

conservative with them, however. The theaters offer the sure outlet. Through them we will loose a scourge of

"Far more than that," asserted Kendall, "when I have developed other outlets. The present plan will do for a

time, however. I have acted wisely, Elverton. All money from the theaters is to be brought in here in paper.

Monday mornings, the theaters will be supplied with silver from my armored truck.

"Presumably, I shall be attending to extensive bank deposits, and receiving silver coins by special order.

Actually, the paper money will be deposited in different banks much of it in other cities. Tim Mecke will

superintend the moving of boxes filled with silver coins into my counting rooms here at the plant. Girls will

"It is very simple. An endless chain which appears quite natural. No one but ourselves will know that the

coins themselves come from within the plant. There will be one break in the chain; that break will never be

"It sounds perfect," declared Silk. "It's so big, though, that it takes my breath away. This is the greatest racket

"Some of your stockholders," suggested Silk. "Like this Doctor Guyon I met at your house last night "

"Do not fear upon that score," smiled Kendall. "There are many stockholders in my enterprises; but they are

well scattered. Conrad Guyon is an exception. He has various holdings; but he also has absolute confidence in

"Nevertheless," resumed Kendall, "there is a danger one that you have not observed. It involves another

"As general manager of the theatrical enterprise. He is already puzzled because of my new arrangements in

"Exactly. That is why he holds his present job. Nevertheless, young Landow is too honest and too observant.

I cannot remove him, and his present position will enable him to cause us trouble."

Foulkrod Kendall continued to wear his knowing smile. He tapped the desk thoughtfully as he eyed Silk

"I assume, Elverton," said Kendall, "that you are a man of many capabilities. Did you ever experiment in the

"Your task, then," resumed Kendall, "will be an easy one. Here" the millionaire produced a slip of paper

"is the combination of the safe in young Landow's offices. In that safe are books Landow's own records,

"Work on the old books. Raise the amount of any entries that seem lower than usual. Leave the totals as they

are; but fix them so they appear to be amounts inscribed over erasures. You get my point?"

"I get it," grinned Silk. "We'll have the goods on Landow. It will look as though he faked the totals before

"Exactly," returned Kendall. "But when the books are checked, there will be several thousand dollars missing.

"I am going home," he said. "Clayton Landow will be at my house. You go to his office. Get to work. When

he leaves, I shall call you there. He frequently visits the office late at night. My call will give you time to

THE plotters left by the side door. Foulkrod Kendall went one way; Silk Elverton another. It was precisely

ten o'clock when the millionaire reached his mansion to find his niece and Clayton Landow talking in the

Kendall chatted for a while, then went into an adjoining room, where he had a desk. Carefully leaving the

There was a window in this groundfloor room. The shade was not drawn; the pane, facing the dark lawn,

was nothing more than a black rectangle. Slowly, the window sash began to move upward until a small crack

was visible at the bottom. Through that space, keen eyes were peering, hidden ears were listening.

Eleven o'clock struck. Kendall heard something from the other room. He arose and opened the door. He

"Very soon," returned the governor's son. "I was just telling Miriam that I must stop down at the office

This time, the millionaire actually closed the door behind him. He seized the telephone and called a number.

"How goes it?" questioned Kendall. "Ah! Excellent... Will fifteen minutes do? Good... He is coming to the

office... I can keep him here for a quarter of an hour... Good... I'm glad you can finish it in this one trip..."

Kendall smiled as he hung up the receiver. He arose to go back to the living room to make sure that Landow

was remaining. The millionaire noticed a draft; before he could turn to see where it came from, the blackened

FIFTEEN minutes later, a phantom shape appeared upon the street in front of the building where Clayton

Landow's office was located. The figure of The Shadow came momentarily into view. It turned toward the

A man was sneaking out from the building. He passed by the spot where The Shadow was standing. Satisfied

His shrewd, handsome face was fully visible. The Shadow knew his identity. The prowler was Silk Elverton.

Elverton strolled along to a spot where a cab was standing. He spoke to the driver. Listening from darkness,

"I want to go to a town near here," announced Silk. "A place called Hempstead I'm stopping at the Palace

The cab rolled away. The Shadow remained in darkness. A few minutes later, a coupe pulled up. A man

alighted and entered the building from which Silk had come. The new arrival was Clayton Landow.

Again, The Shadow stood upon the silent, deserted street. A soft laugh rippled from his hidden lips. Its

Clayton Landow was being made the victim of some plot. Silk Elverton, located in another town, was

working with Foulkrod Kendall in New Avalon. Clearly, with Harry Vincent's report in mind, The Shadow

This could be but a side issue in a greater scheme. The contemplated crime that had brought Kendall and

Elverton together was probably some gigantic swindle that was now reaching important stages of

development. The Shadow could divine the truth; he could see that Clayton Landow was to be made a

The chilling tones of The Shadow's laugh died in the night air. When Clayton Landow returned to his coupe a

Plotters had worked tonight. The Shadow, although not in time to spy upon their secret conference, had

DAYS had passed since the arrival of The Shadow in New Avalon. The machinery which Foulkrod Kendall

had started was rolling on of its own momentum. Since his telephone call to Silk Elverton in Clayton

Foulkrod Kendall did not know of The Shadow's presence. The millionaire had no idea whatever that Vic

Marquette, of the secret service, was in New Avalon. It was simply a matter of policy and natural caution that

had caused the millionaire to go back and forth from his office without evidencing a single trace of crooked

Thus, unwittingly, Kendall had checked both The Shadow and Marquette. The Shadow, suspecting Kendall

to be crooked, had become a presence at the millionaire's mansion. His sinister form, unseen, had been there

Besides this, The Shadow had appeared secretly in the town of Hempstead, to observe the actions of Silk

Elverton. The smooth crook, laying low, had not even communicated with Foulkrod Kendall.

Vic Marquette's trouble was his total inability to discover any trace of Cyrus Barbier and Tony Cumo. The

secretservice operative had reached the point where he was ready to believe that the two had kept onward in

The Shadow, with all his deductive skill, was finding the situation a surprising one. He was out to find the

Vic Marquette, on the other hand, had no suspicion whatever that Foulkrod Kendall could be engaged in

Thus, while two observers waited, Kendall's brilliant counterfeiting scheme was under way. Tim Mecke,

working in the factory, and riding on the armored car, helped in the engineering of the first shipment of

EVENING had descended upon New Avalon. Vic Marquette, having relieved his mind temporarily by taking

in a show at the Kendall Theater, was strolling toward the New Avalon Hotel, carelessly flipping a half dollar

The coin clanged as Vic's finger nail struck it. It fell, with apparent weight, upon Vic's palm. To Vic

Marquette, a man who could quickly spot queer money, this coin was genuine. Little did he realize that it had

Though usually observant, Vic Marquette did not suspect that keen eyes were watching him as he crossed the

street to the hotel. The secretservice operative walked through the lobby and took the elevator to his room.

Here, again, some minutes later, the fact that he was under observation escaped Vic's notice. The door to an

adjoining room, located in an obscure corner, was slightly ajar. Watching eyes and listening ears were behind

The Shadow, other investigations completed for the night, had taken up the task of watching Vic Marquette.

The master of darkness had undertaken this unique course for a definite purpose.

Crime was brewing in New Avalon. That The Shadow knew. Vic Marquette was in New Avalon. Why? The

There were many phases of crime which would attract Vic Marquette's interest; any of them, to be attractive

In the past, The Shadow had crossed Vic Marquette's trail with startling results. Tonight, here in New

Avalon, The Shadow was working on the possibility that a present link could be discovered. What The

Shadow knew might be of tremendous value to Marquette; what the secretservice man was seeking might be

Vic's actions indicated resignation. The secretservice operative was beginning to pack his bag. To all

intents, he was disgusted with results in New Avalon. Vic picked up the telephone. He learned that a train

was leaving for New York within the next half hour. Lifting his bag, Vic prepared to depart.

There was a motion at the obscure door. A creeping splotch of blackness stretched upon the floor. The

Shadow was contemplating drastic action a direct encounter with Vic Marquette. A crisis had arisen. It

The tall form of a spectral being appeared at the end of the room. A figure garbed in black cloak a garment

that showed a crimson lining as it swished slightly in the air was standing in full view. Burning eyes

Vic Marquette stopped and placed his bag upon the floor. He turned toward the end of the room, but did not

In his reverie, the secretservice man walked directly toward the weird being in black without realizing that

this amazing presence had appeared. Vic's objective was the telephone. He picked it up and called a number.

Vic Marquette; stolidly staring at the side wall of the room while he held the telephone in his hands; The

Shadow less than two feet away, gazing directly at the secretservice operative's swarthy countenance!

From this close range, The Shadow could tell that Vic had gained a sudden inspiration.

"Hello!" Vic's voice, usually calm, was eager now. "Is this Detective Cady?... Fine. I want to see you... No, I

can't give you my name until I meet you... Room 418, New Avalon Hotel... You can come down? This will

be worth your while... You'll understand quick enough when I talk to you in person..."

There was a satisfied gleam in Marquette's eyes as the operative hung up the receiver.

While Vic was acting thus, The Shadow, too, was in motion. With brilliant eyes still focused upon Vic

Marquette's profile, The Shadow moved silently and slowly back toward the door from which he had come.

When Vic Marquette chanced to glance in the direction of the door, he saw nothing but the woodwork. This

Marquette paced up and down the room for some fifteen minutes. At last, he heard a rap from the outer door.

He hurried forward to admit a tall, cadaverousfaced man who stared suspiciously as he entered.

VIC closed the outer door. At the same moment, the obscure door near the inner end of the room again

moved until it was slightly ajar. The Shadow was once more listening in to what happened here.

Vic Marquette was drawing back his coat lapel. Cady saw the glitter of the secretservice badge, and nodded

"My name's Marquette," announced Vic. "I'm here on an important job and I need your help."

"I'm after a couple of counterfeiters," declared Marquette. "Two men Cyrus Barbier and Tony Cumo. One's

an old, stoopshouldered bird; the other's an Italian. They ought to be easy to spot; but I haven't found them."

Vic drew a sheet from his pocket, and read off detailed descriptions of the men. Cady listened. The Shadow

listened also. He had heard of these names through Harry Vincent's report, but he had not been informed of

"I'll tell you why," said Vic. "These fellows are clever. They slipped out ahead of me in New York. They're

shrewd enough to get wise when a police hunt starts. That's why I called you and not headquarters."

"I study things when I'm in a town, Cady. I learned that you're a pretty keen detective. One that goes about

his own business. I was ready to give up tonight; then I decided to call you before I quit.

"I've been doing a lot of searching in this town going to the types of places where I figured these birds

would hang out. But I've had no luck. It struck me that you might steer me to some spot where I could locate

"What did these men do in New York I mean, what was their blind while they were counterfeiting?"

"I thought of that," said Vic. "I was up there, and I watched the workers going in and out. No sign of either

"No," said Vic in surprise, "I saw some houses near the place, but I didn't think anything about them."

"Quite a number of the employees live there," informed Cady. "You can only see a few of the houses from

"Say that's an idea! I'm glad I called you, Cady. I'll stay over and go up there tomorrow."

"You'd be up against it, Marquette," he said. "The place is well policed by Kendall's men. If you told them

who you were, it would be all right; but since you appear to be keeping your identity a secret "

"That's it," declared Cady. "But my case is different. I could go up there tomorrow and do some real work.

The special police know me. I drop around there right along. Suppose I see if there's any one up there

"I'd appreciate it," said Vic warmly. "But remember this; you're acting unofficially. I don't want anything to

be known until we can lay the finger on these men if they are still in New Avalon. When we have located

them, we'll go after them; and I can give you my word that Donald Cady will get the proper credit for landing

"Yes when I'm ready. This business of tracking down counterfeiters is a tough one. When those fellows

blew from New York, they had baggage with them. Chances are that they've carried along their dies. They

"I'll take a look up toward the settlement tomorrow morning," assured Cady, now convinced that Marquette

was offering him a remarkable opportunity to gain credit for detective work. "Where will you be?"

"In and out of this hotel," responded Vic. "Remember now not a word to any one until you talk to me; that

Cady was nodding as he turned to leave the room. Vic Marquette accompanied the local sleuth into the

hallway; their voices dwindled, and it became apparent that Vic had gone down in the elevator to the lobby.

The door opened and The Shadow entered. A soft whisper came from lips and were concealed by the

upturned collar of the crimsonlined cloak. Vic Marquette had sought aid; he had gained the assistance of

The Shadow knew now the game in which others were engaged. With his knowledge of Silk Elverton's

connection with Foulkrod Kendall, the man of mystery was directly on the trail of crime.

EARLY the next evening, Detective Donald Cady dined in a little lunch wagon located in the settlement near

Foulkrod Kendall's factory. The sleuth chatted with the man behind the counter, and also talked with a man

Browsing around in this vicinity was part of Cady's duty. There was nothing surprising in the occurrence.

When trouble started at the settlement, the New Avalon police were always summoned by Kendall's private

officers. Hence, Cady had made it a practice to check up on conditions at regular intervals.

Tonight, Cady was playing a careful game. The detective felt a keen sense of responsibility, since he had

agreed to work in behalf of Vic Marquette. His stroll about the settlement had been carefully planned. His

Cady had learned that two new night workers were living in a little cottage on the outskirts of the settlement.

No one seemed to know much about these men. It was supposed that they went on duty after eight o'clock.

When the detective left the little lunch wagon, he glanced cautiously about him to make sure that no one was

observing his actions. He started on a circuitous course that would bring him to the cottage. As the sleuth

walked along, another figure followed. Cady knew nothing of the presence that was close behind him.

Small wonder! The fitting figure that took up the detective's trail was a veritable phantom of the darkness.

When Cady passed lights, his own form was visible, but the ghostly shape behind him gave no other token

than a splotch of blackness that appeared as a lengthened silhouette upon the ground. The Shadow, silent and

The Shadow's plan was a wise one. He had let Cady investigate by day; now, after nightfall, he, too, was

interested in matters hereabout. That Donald Cady had learned something was evident. Soon, The Shadow,

THERE were dry bushes near the isolated cottage. Cady crouched in the brush and waited. He could see a

As Cady stared, a cloud seemed to pass across that square of illumination. The detective could not understand

Cady had seen The Shadow but he had not recognized the master of the night as a living being.

While Cady waited, The Shadow had approached the cottage, to make his own observations. Lifting sash and

raising shade an inch, he had spied two men within Cyrus Barbier and Tony Cumo. The pair of rogues were

Cady, too, learned of this a few minutes later. The cottage light went out. Two vague forms appeared against

The sleuth was a capable worker. Neither Barbier nor Cumo sensed that a man was following. Cady also was

in ignorance that some one was on his trail. Like a haunting specter, The Shadow followed close behind the

The two men reached an obscure spot at the side of the factory. Cady heard their mumbling talk as they

It was here that the detective played a game that was both daring and successful. Slipping through the dark,

he arrived at the door just as the men entered and let it come shut on a spring.

Cady's hands were gloved. The detective let his fingers serve as a door stop. The ruse was painful, but it kept

The Shadow saw this from the dark. Less than a dozen feet away, he observed the detective's hand against the

When the door closed again, The Shadow stopped it more efficiently than had the detective.

Following the trail of the men ahead, Cady was surprised to find himself in the dimness of a large private

office. He passed into a corridor, caught a glimpse of Barbier and Cumo, and kept onward until he saw the

men disappear through a heavy door in an obscure corner of the factory building.

Here, Cady lingered. He could not pass this door; he was sure, however, that something important lay

Suddenly, the detective raised his head. He had heard no sound, but he had felt the vibration of what he

Could these men be the counterfeiters? Had they deliberately installed themselves in an unused portion of

Foulkrod Kendall's plant? Cady stepped away from the door, and hurried back to the private office. He tried

THE SHADOW, all this while, had shaded Cady with amazing skill. Not once had the blackgarbed form

appeared in complete view. A splotch of black upon the floor a strange silhouette against the wall a solid

shape that seemed a part of ordinary darkness such were the manifestations of The Shadow's presence.

Concealed in the gloom of Foulkrod Kendall's private office, The Shadow heard Cady inquiring over the

telephone for Mr. Marquette. He was evidently informed that the man was out, but would soon return. In a

The sleuth seemed pleased when he had completed the call. Evidently, Cady did not like the atmosphere of

this office because of the possibilities that he might be discovered. He stole away toward the outer door.

When the detective had disappeared, the atmosphere of the room seemed to fill with a sinister shudder.

The silent laugh of The Shadow! The master of darkness knew where Donald Cady had gone. The sleuth had

left a car not far from the factory; now he was on his way to visit with Vic Marquette.

That was to The Shadow's liking. The blackgarbed phantom knew well that Marquette would not act with

The pending interview between Cady and Marquette was not important to The Shadow. The master had other

work to perform. Vincent had discovered Marquette; Marquette had called on Cady; Cady had found two

Quickly, though silently, The Shadow moved toward that obscure corner of the plant where Cyrus Barbier

The soundproof door was a formidable obstacle. It had two massive locks, but these were no barriers to The

Shadow. The click of steel was audible as the blackgloved hand pressed a thin, pointed implement against

With the same precision, The Shadow picked the second lock. The door moved slowly open. Sharp eyes saw

Here was another lock. The Shadow handled it silently, although his ears told him that the men within could

not hear him at work. The dull rumble of machinery was apparent from the outside of this second door.

The inner barrier opened inch by inch. The Shadow's eye spied through a tiny crevice.

Barbier and Cumo were in sight. Goggled, the old man was watching the machine. Tony Cumo was bringing

Glittering disks were bouncing in a silvery flood. The sight of the white metal was enough. The door closed

He had discovered the lair of the counterfeiters. The Shadow knew the game in which Foulkrod Kendall and

Swiftly, The Shadow departed, past the outer barrier, through Kendall's private office, out from the factory.

His gliding form swung through the darkness, along the road, to a secluded spot where a trim coupe was

The Shadow's taunt was well timed. He had uncovered the tools of crime; he had not disturbed them in their

From now on, this millionaire plotter would be The Shadow's quarry. The mansion was the home of crime.

In that surmise, The Shadow was correct. An unexpected turn of circumstances was developing new

THE SHADOW, in all his amazing adventures, never neglected the human element. His keen brain always

analyzed possibilities. With all its power, however, The Shadow's mind could not cover the entire range of

When Detective Donald Cady had left the silverware factory, his purpose had been to go straight to the New

Avalon Hotel. The Shadow had divined that fact. He knew that Cady had a simple duty ahead, and that the

A freak of chance was destined to change the course of action. Cady, driving along the highway, was so

wrapped in thought of what he had discovered that he turned left instead of right when he reached the

Before the detective realized it, his car was approaching the stone pillars that indicated the millionaire's

mansion. Cady stopped his car, pulled between the pillars, and prepared to go into reverse. Then, his

Cady had agreed to work for Vic Marquette. He had promised to say nothing to other members of the local

police force. This promise, however, did not bind him to keep his discoveries secret from a man of high

The millionaire was the most important figure in New Avalon. What would he say when he learned of the

Cady began to vision complications. He knew that he must play fair with Marquette; at the same time, he

Acting upon this thought, Cady drove along the driveway, and pulled up at the side of Kendall's home. He

extinguished the lights on his car. He went to the front door of the millionaire's mansion, announced himself

to the servant who answered the door, and was immediately admitted to Kendall's living room.

Foulkrod Kendall was talking to a guest Doctor Conrad Guyon. The millionaire advanced to shake hands

with Detective Cady. The sleuth, in an undertone, mumbled that he would like a private interview. Kendall

"Mr. Cady pays frequent visits to the settlement," said the millionaire. "He probably has something to tell me

KENDALL led the way into another room. As soon as the door was closed, the detective brought up the

"There is a side entrance to a private office," declared Cady. "I take it that the office is yours?"

"It is being used, however," asserted Cady. "Two new workers at your plant are going though that way. Tell

me, Mr. Kendall, what is the purpose of an obscure corner room that is located at the extreme right of your

"You must mean the experimental room," answered Kendall. "It is closed at present "

"It is not," blurted Cady. "Those men are using it. I have an idea what they are doing there."

Foulkrod Kendall pretended complete amazement. Then, with an affected laugh, he belittled Cady's

"Not a bit of it," retorted the sleuth. "I went up to the settlement at the request of a secretservice operative

who is here in New Avalon. The man's name is Vic Marquette. He described two men to me; said he thought

they were in New Avalon. I took a chance on finding them at the settlement. I did. I'm on my way to see

"Incredible," said Kendall, in an awed tone. "Tell me, Cady, you found this out alone?"

"Yes. At the New Avalon Hotel. I am going there immediately. I decided to stop off and tell you about the

"I won't call him," balked Cady, "because I agreed to tell no one regarding this matter until I had seen him.

No, Mr. Kendall, I have a duty to perform. I am going to the New Avalon Hotel; as soon as I have conferred

Foulkrod Kendall sat like a man dumfounded. Donald Cady, remembering his promise to Marquette, arose

and started from the room. Kendall was about to stop him; then sank back in unfeigned alarm. Had Donald

Cady seen the expression on the millionaire's face, he would have stopped point blank. Fortunately for

Kendall regained his composure with an effort. He leaped to the door through which the detective had gone.

Cady was now out of sight. Doctor Guyon was alone in the living room, reading a book. Hastily, Foulkrod

Kendall closed the door. He paced across the room, and frantically clenched his fists.

EVENTS were going badly. While Kendall worried over his dilemma, the trend of circumstance was

enmeshing the schemes of plotters. Outside of Kendall's mansion, Donald Cady was stepping into his car to

drive away to the city and tip off Vic Marquette. Another menace one which Kendall did not suspect was

Another car had stopped well down the driveway, off in a cleared side path. A sinister figure was performing

a circuit around the side of the great house, far away from where Cady was parked.

Kendall, however, was too concerned with the matter of Cady to even speculate upon the possibility of an

unknown enemy. He could not stop Cady from going to the city. Once the detective had spoken to the

secretservice operative, the game would be ended. It was in this moment of dread alarm that Kendall gained

He gripped the telephone upon his desk. He called a special number in a frantic hope. It was a line which had

been secretly connected with the counterfeiting room in the factory. Tony Cumo answered the call.

"Not here," came Tony's reply. "Wait a minute, Mr. Kendall. Sounds like him at the door now."

"Got it outside," returned Tim. "Starting out to make a special collection from the theater over in New

"Quick, Tim!" exclaimed Kendall. "Start out and block the road from my home. Understand? A man is

coming down in a car when you see his headlights, open fire. lt's Detective Cady, you've got to get him!"

The window close beside Kendall was rising. The millionaire did not notice it. He was listening to Tony's

"That's it," repeated Kendall. "Not a minute to lose. Shoot to kill. Afterward you can claim it was a holdup.

The millionaire was trembling with excitement when he hung up the receiver. He slumped in his chair. The

One minute before he had arrived at Kendall's window, The Shadow had paused to listen to the throb of a

Every word of Kendall's final statement had been potent to The Shadow. In a trice, the master of deduction

had realized that the car must belong to Donald Cady; that the detective had made the mistake of coming here

Even as Foulkrod Kendall still sat mopping his brow, a blackgarbed phantom was gliding swiftly across the

IN his little room, Kendall finally regained his composure. Calculating the distance between the mansion and

the fork as compared with the distance from the fork to the factory, Kendall felt sure that Tim Mecke could

The millionaire arose to go into the other room. The telephone bell rang. Kendall hesitated, then picked up

"No no!" exclaimed Kendall. "We are in a desperate situation. Listen closely, Elverton "

Ignoring Silk's prompt question, the millionaire told the crook about Donald Cady's visit. He gave Silk the

information about Vic Marquette. He concluded with an account of his emergency call to Tim Mecke.

"Don't worry," decided Silk. "Tim Mecke will get that mug sure. You say that Marquette knows nothing so

"According to Cady," returned Kendall, "Marquette merely suspects that Barbier and Cumo are in this

"Phone them," ordered Silk. "Tell them to stick in the factory. Meanwhile, I'll mooch over to the New Avalon

Hotel and see if I can spot this secretservice guy. Leave it to me; I'll keep an eye on him."

Foulkrod Kendall was wearing a smile when he hung up the telephone. He strolled out into the living room to

The hand of crime had been loosed tonight. Silk Elverton's assurance of Tim Mecke's prowess was

But neither Kendall nor Elverton had reckoned with The Shadow! He the master fighter had set forth to

The exclamation came from Tim Mecke. The camouflaged gunman was in the rear portion of the armored

car. He was peering over the driver's shoulder as he spoke. The man applied the brakes.

"We're supposed to go up to Kendall's house," corrected Tim. "Got to pick up some luggage that the old man

The gangster peered through a special loophole at the side of the car. He was ready to make some excuse that

would slow this progress and block the road for the car that he expected, when he saw headlights looming

As he cried the unexpected warning, Tim Mecke thrust a revolver barrel through the loophole and fired a

"Bandits!" exclaimed Tim, delivering a third shot. "They've got us covered! Get to the other loop!"

The man in back obeyed. The driver, too, leaped to a loophole. Then came the answer for which Tim had

hoped. Through the loophole, the gunman saw a revolver flash. The others observed it also. It came from the

Tim Mecke knew the way of detectives. He had fired his first shots wild, knowing that Donald Cady would

be armed and would reply in kind. As Cady's bullet smashed ineffectively against the side of the armored car,

Tim was elated. He had two witnesses now his companions would swear that Cady had made the attack.

Suddenly, Cady's car shot forward. The sleuth had spied a space between the front of the armored car and the

road to New Avalon. He realized that he was in a predicament; he had decided to run the gantlet.

Another futile shot came from the detective's gun. Then, as the distance narrowed, Tim Mecke, confident,

AT the very instant when Tim spoke, another pair of headlights flashed down the road from the mansion.

With a terrific grind of brakes, a coupe skewed sidewise and stopped almost against the armored car. A

Tim's companions fired an instant before Tim was ready. The gunman, confident in his skill, was aiming at

an angle through the loophole. The guards shot wild. Tim had his gun squarely covering the dim form of

A mammoth roar broke from the second car. A bullet shot from an automatic, aimed with perfect precision.

Its target was the revolver barrel that glimmered threateningly from the central loophole.

Tim Mecke staggered back. His weapon clattered to the floor of the car. The Shadow had intervened to

prevent the fatal shot. The range was short; with his car at a standstill, the master marksman had picked a

Loopholes dropped shut. Donald Cady's car sped ahead. The driver, sensing that the second menace was

greater than that of the fleeing automobile, put the car into gear. Tim Mecke grabbed up another revolver, and

The guard at the rear opened a loophole in the back of the armored car. Tim Mecke jumped up with the

driver, and shoved his revolver through a loophole above the bulletproof windshield.

The race developed into an amazing episode. Donald Cady had gained a head start. The light armored car,

however, was speedy in pursuit. The driver, spurred on by oaths, drove like mad.

The Shadow, his car turned in the road, was well behind when he, in turn, took up the pursuit. Within a half

mile, the armored car was gaining on Cady so effectively that the detective's automobile was almost within

range. At the same time, the coupe was traveling with remarkable swiftness, lessening the space between it

Tim Mecke fired. The range was too great. He shot again, wildly, but close enough to offer better

possibilities. He poised his gun for the third shot. This time his aim would be sure. Tim pressed the trigger.

At the very instant of the gangster's aim, The Shadow fired. The stern pursuer had been coming on with

complete disregard for futile shots that the rear man of the armored car was delivering.

WHEN The Shadow's automatic zoomed, it did so with marked effect. Its target was a rear tire of the

Just as Tim Mecke was pressing the trigger of his revolver, the light armored car did a dizzy skid. Tim's shot

burst forth, but the swerve of the car rendered it futile. The driver tried madly to right his vehicle. He failed.

The armored car whirled about and struck the ditch. It rebounded and rolled along on two wheels. The

flattened tire was on the uppermost side. The car came to a stop, the driver gripping the wheel, Tim and the

The road was narrow here. The stopping of the truck had nearly blocked it. Tim Mecke heard a cry from the

driver. Through the windshield, the gangster saw the pursuing coupe dip to the ditch and wedge straight past

Tim jumped to the front loophole. He was too late. He shoved his revolver through a side loop. A bullet

smashed close by that spot. Tim ducked instinctively. Then he saw the coupe gather speed.

To Tim's ears came the faint sound of what the gangster took for mockery, but did not recognize as the mirth

Tim's cause was hopeless now. The armored car was out of commission. Donald Cady if it were he in the

Tim Mecke, bewildered, wondered how two machines had come into the fight. He did not actually know

UP ahead, The Shadow was driving into the limits of New Avalon. The delay caused him by the armored car

had given Donald Cady a clear path into town. Kendall's futile effort to stop the detective had failed. Cady

The detective was probably still fearful of pursuit. He had probably known nothing of the fate which had

The Shadow swung into the main street without sighting Cady's automobile. He turned the coupe into an

The Shadow intended to be present when Cady met Marquette. The two would probably go to Marquette's

There was a littleused entrance to the rear of the lobby; it came in not far from the secluded stairway. That

was to be The Shadow's course. The victorious battler pulled his car up at a darkened parking space.

At the very moment of The Shadow's arrival, Donald Cady was within the portals of the New Avalon Hotel.

Looking about him, the cadaverous detective spied Vic Marquette, seated in a corner. Cady hurried across,

"I've got to watch out!" exclaimed Cady; thrusting his hand to his pocket, to make sure his gun was in

The two men were walking across the lobby. A third individual was watching them. He had arisen from a

chair near the spot where Marquette had been seated. It was Silk Elverton. The smart crook was close enough

"I've found " Cady was beginning to tell Marquette the result of his investigation.

With a swift stride, Silk Elverton blocked the path of the two men. The crook's hand was coming from his

pocket. Cady, his own hand ready, sensed the menace. Leaping backward, the detective drew his gun. At the

It was a simultaneous draw; and Silk Elverton won, thanks to his squatty gun. He pressed the trigger, while

With the same skill that he had evidenced in shooting Duffy Bagland in New York, Silk downed the detective

Sprawling on the floor, Cady gamely tried to cry out what he knew. He had a message for Vic Marquette. He

must deliver it. His dying words came in gasps that Marquette did not hear. With a savage cry, the

Marquette was gripping the crook's wrist. Silk swung his hand free, and landed his revolver barrel against the

side of Marquette's head. The operative slumped. Silk wrested free and brandished his revolver.

The clerk had ducked behind the desk. Scattered guests were behind chairs. The way was free for the daring

But Silk was in no hurry. Calmly, he leveled his revolver at Vic Marquette, who was rising groggily from the

floor. Staring eyes of witnesses were upon Silk Elverton. Cowering men knew that they were to see a second

Not one person looked toward the rear of the lobby. No one saw what was happening there.

The door to the rear entrance had opened. A strange, avenging figure garbed in black stood shrouded in

gloom. The blazing eyes of The Shadow were squarely upon Silk Elverton. The menacing muzzle of an

As Silk Elverton, with gloating lips and murderous hand, was on the point of ending Vic Marquette's life, The

Shadow's automatic blazed forth its staying message. A tongue of flame shot from the bigmuzzled gun. A

The crook staggered sidewise as the revolver clattered from his useless fingers. His left hand seize his

wounded wrist. Murder escape both were forgotten by Silk in the frenzy of that moment. Wild oaths

The rear door had closed; the muzzle of The Shadow's gun still showed at the crack of the door, and the

Men were rising from their spots of safety, emboldened by this sudden turn of events. Vic Marquette was

Madly, Silk Elverton staggered toward the revolving door. He was destined never to reach that spot. The

Shadow was in readiness to prevent his escape, but other hands intervened to stay the grim avenger's bullet.

Three men precipitated themselves upon Silk Elverton. The crook went down under the attack. Vic Marquette

Donald Cady's body lay silent on the floor. The detective was dead. The Shadow had saved him once

tonight; the second stroke of Kendall's forces had succeeded in sending the sleuth to his doom.

The blackgarbed master regretted the death of Donald Cady. The sleuth was a victim of his own stupidity.

His visit to Foulkrod Kendall had been an admissible mistake; his folly of crying out to Vic Marquette in the

lobby had been inexcusable. That mistake not The Shadow's late arrival was the real cause of Donald

In order to save Cady from Tim Mecke, The Shadow had been forced to leave before Silk Elverton had called

Foulkrod Kendall. Circumstances had worked to aid the plotters in the slaying of Detective Cady, but The

Silk Elverton, connecting link in the present regime of crime, was a prisoner, to be delivered into the hands of

the law. A dozen men had seen him commit open murder in the lobby of the New Avalon Hotel.

Vic Marquette had not learned of Donald Cady's discovery at the silverware plant, but The Shadow knew the

truth. The power of the master fighter had triumphed, even though the hosts of crime had eliminated one man

Through it all, the presence of The Shadow had remained hidden. Men of crime were halted; the secrets

TIME had passed in the city of New Avalon. A strange lull had followed the exciting episodes in which The

Shadow had played the chief role. Foulkrod Kendall, seated in his living room, was anxiously studying an

"Well," remarked Clayton Landow, "that crook Elverton will get his tomorrow midnight. He deserves the

"A strange case," observed Doctor Guyon eying young Landow seriously. "The man will not talk. I have

"Imagine his nerve," said Landow, "Coming here and posing as an Englishman a silverware representative.

They found out he was a fake when they began to investigate. That secretservice operative Marquette

"Elverton's case puzzles me," declared Kendall. "The man doesn't look like a crook. He didn't act like one."

"He's crooked just the same," returned Landow. "He was the fellow who tried to hold up our armored car that

"Elverton has confessed nothing," said Kendall thoughtfully. "That is one puzzling feature."

"He didn't have to confess," said Landow. "They got him for murder right in the hotel lobby. The whole

thing is obvious. Elverton was down there to waylay the armored wagon. Cady had been in to see you that

evening he got mixed in the brawl. After Elverton crippled the truck, he was afraid to go through with it.

Foulkrod Kendall nodded as though in agreement. Inwardly, the millionaire was perplexed. He could not

understand the presence of that second car nor the firing of the shot that had crippled Silk Elverton.

"He must have had at least one pal," went on Landow. "The fellow with him was sore because he went after

Cady instead of getting the armored car. So his pal shot him from the back of the hotel lobby."

"That is logical," interposed Doctor Guyon quietly. "Nevertheless, I cannot understand why Elverton refuses

to talk. If his confederate doublecrossed him, why doesn't Elverton name the man?"

"You can't figure out crooks," asserted Landow. "Cady said enough to Marquette to let him know that there

"Not at all," said Kendall quickly. "Cady kept an eye on the settlement. He merely stopped in here to mention

The doorbell rang. A servant came in to announce that Tim Mecke was calling. Kendall fidgeted. He covered

CLAYTON LANDOW waved a greeting when Mecke entered. Tim had covered himself with glory on the

night when Elverton had murdered Cady. The camouflaged gangster had become a hero at the plant and

"I'd like to talk to you, sir," returned Tim. "Just a few matters about the crew on the armored car. The

superintendent thought you would like to hear my suggestions about rearranging the shift."

Behind the closed door of the little room, the relationship between this pair of rascals changed. Tim Mecke

"You've got to do something about Silk Elverton," declared the gangster, in a firm tone. "He can't take the hot

"Be reasonable, Mecke," replied Kendall, in a low voice. "Don't you understand that any move on our part

will incriminate us all? I'm keeping Barbier and Cumo under cover in the plant. This man Marquette is after

"You've told me that," growled Tim. "They've stood by. Making the phony coin and piling it up until it will

"Forget that. Let's talk about Silk. He's in a jam. You're the only one can help him."

"Is that so?" Tim's tone was challenging. "Well, it'll be too bad if you don't fix things. I'll blow and so will

Barbier and Cumo. They're friends of Silk. When we blow, you'll hear from us afterward. We'll give away the

"Trouble?" Tim was contemptuous. "The three of us are used to it. But you aren't. Be reasonable. We're only

asking you to help a pal. I don't blame you for being worried. If you come through with this, we'll be with

Tim paused to look steadily at the millionaire. Kendall realized that the man meant business.

For a full minute, both were silent. Neither glanced toward the window. The shade was drawn tonight; but

its lower edge did not touch the sill. Keen eyes were peering through that space.

Once again, The Shadow was the silent observer of what was passing in this room!

Millionaire and uniformed employee; only The Shadow knew that they were companions in crime

murderers, by design, as much as Silk Elverton, who now awaited the electric chair. The keen eyes watched

"I'll do it!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Mecke I've got a way to work it! Tell Barbier and Cumo that I'll start

tonight. I hadn't thought of this plan before at least, I had been unable to see the sure way of putting it into

"I'd like to be sure," began Mecke. "Barbier and Cumo are pretty well steamed up "

Kendall began to open his mouth; then stopped. He gave a few moments to careful consideration.

"I'll show you," he declared. "Young Landow is going in a few minutes. You remain while I talk with Doctor

Guyon. Take this paper and pencil; appear to be making a schedule so you have an excuse for staying. When

you're satisfied that I'm on the level, bring me your schedule of shifts, and leave."

HARDLY had the two departed before the shade rose at the window. The tall form of The Shadow swung

noiselessly over the sill. Gloved hands lowered the sash, then the shade. Gliding to the partly opened door,

The Shadow stood in darkness. His brilliant eyes could see all that happened in the living room.

"I'll have to see that on paper, Mecke," Kendall was saying. "Sit over there by that table, and work it out for

The millionaire resumed his reading. Landow and Guyon talked for a while, then the former announced that

he was leaving. Good nights were exchanged. Kendall and Guyon were alone except for Tim Mecke, who

"Conrad," said Kendall thoughtfully, "you said tonight that this man Elverton appears to be an exceptional

"Do you think," continued Kendall, "that temporary insanity could be pleaded in his behalf?"

"I know that. Nevertheless, I am disturbed. I cannot class the man as a murderer. I know that his record is

shady; nevertheless, he might have been under the strain of an exceptional mental condition."

"Suppose," suggested Kendall, "that he had feared himself implicated in a minor crime which he did not

commit. He was in the lobby of the New Avalon Hotel. He saw Cady, and the detective saw him. Cady was

"Could Elverton's silence be due to resignation the belief that the law is against him "

"I believe," said Kendall, in a convinced tone, "that Elverton deserves a pardon. What is your opinion?"

"I am opposed to capital punishment," returned Guyon. "That is a private opinion which I do not voice for

print. I have seen too much of the death penalty. Hanging was an abomination. The electric chair so

recently installed in this State is mishandled. Repeated shocks are necessary to kill effectively.

"It is my duty, Kendall, to be present at electrocutions. It is also my task to supervise the autopsy of the

bodies of executed criminals. I would do anything in my power to eliminate capital punishment in this State."

"Apply your opinion," remarked Kendall, "to Elverton's case alone. Tell me; would you be willing to sponsor

Doctor Guyon paused before replying. He studied Kendall's face. The millionaire was impassive. Tim Mecke,

"I could prepare a plea," decided Guyon, "that would apply specifically to Elverton's case. It would contain

definite reasons why the man should be pardoned. I cannot promise, however, that it would be accepted by

"Prepare it," ordered Kendall, in a decisive tone. "I shall take it to the governor. Conrad, this chap Elverton

"All right, Foulkrod," said the physician. "I shall do as you request. It will be a laborious task; I must work

"If you have it by noon," said Kendall, "I can reach the state capital in ample time to take up the matter with

FOULKROD KENDALL suddenly appeared to become aware that Tim Mecke was still in the room. Just as

the millionaire looked in the man's direction, Tim approached carrying his schedule sheet. He started toward

Mecke lowered his tone a moment later, as he pretended to point out features of the schedule.

"I'll slip the word along," he whispered. "We'll count on you putting the job through. But if it don't go well,

"Silk's trusting you," added Mecke. "He won't squeal, no matter what happens. That's why his pals are

As Tim Mecke left, Doctor Guyon arose and announced that he, too, was departing. He remarked that he

Foulkrod Kendall remained alone in his living room. The blufffaced millionaire paced back and forth. His

face displayed a variety of emotions. Resentment toward Tim Mecke was evident, but it was counteracted by

a cunning look which dominated Kendall's countenance. At last, with a gruff laugh, the millionaire walked

Then came another laugh. No more than a whispered shudder, it raised uncanny reverberations behind the

door of the little room. The door opened, and The Shadow stepped into the living room. His tall form was

The Shadow had heard all; even the final, undertoned conversation between Kendall and Mecke, near the

door of the little room. Creepy echoes of The Shadow's soft mirth seemed to join with the foreboding

The Shadow knew. He understood the thoughts which had gone through Kendall's mind. He had gained an

The echoes died away. The tall form glided across the floor and merged with the gloom of the hall. When the

IT was early the next evening. Two men were seated in a room of the governor's mansion. One was Foulkrod

Kendall; the other was Hiram Landow, the governor. A dignified, grayhaired man, Landow displayed the

integrity which had enabled him to gain election on a ticket supported by reformers.

The room was a lonely one, furnished with oldfashioned chairs and tables. The darkness of the woodwork,

the deep shades of hanging curtains, gave the place a gloomy effect. Neither Kendall nor the governor

seemed to notice this. They were too busily engaged in discussing an important matter.

"The time limit is nearly ended," declared Kendall, in a persuasive tone. "Your messenger can reach New

"Kendall," returned the governor seriously, "my patience is at an end. I have studied Doctor Guyon's report

from beginning to end. It is an excellent plea for pardon, but it does not convince me."

Hiram Landow arose and went to a table in the corner. This piece of furniture served as a writing desk. It was

set by heavy curtains which concealed a small alcove. Reaching to the table, the governor pushed aside a

small bottle of ink that he had used as a paperweight, and picked up a sheaf of papers. He brought the bundle

"Governor," asserted Kendall, "you are making a great mistake. You have absolute authority in this case "

"Granted," interposed the governor. "That, in a sense, is unfortunate. The chief executive wields the power of

an autocrat, so far as executions are concerned. That does not privilege him to misuse his power. He must not

"You are wrong there, Kendall," returned Hiram Landow. "I have not considered this matter from a selfish

viewpoint, but since you bring it up in that light, I can assure you that my political future would be at stake,

should I pardon Ronald Elverton. Popular feeling is decided. The man is accepted as a convicted murderer."

"You are passing it on to Doctor Guyon," asserted Kendall. "Let him take the blame. He will not object. He is

"There is no use, Kendall," declared Hiram Landow. "My decision is final. In fact, I disapprove of your

having come here. I might readily suppose that you had a hidden interest in the affairs of this man Elverton. I

advise you, Kendall, to say nothing of this foolish plea. It does you no credit."

FOULKROD KENDALL said nothing. His face hardened. Hiram Landow noticed the look and wondered.

"You suggest," declared Kendall, after his pause, "that I am interested in Elverton's affairs. Very well. I am. I

"What is more," resumed Kendall harshly, "I can convince you that Elverton's welfare is to your interest. Let

me mention that your son's engagement to my niece will be ended if you do not grant this pardon."

"You are showing your colors now," returned Hiram Landow, in a rising tone of restrained anger. "Your

craven statement is futile, however. I have every respect for my son's happiness. Nevertheless, I shall not

"You mistake me," said Kendall, with a sour smile. "The engagement will be broken for a very fair reason.

"That your son," responded Kendall slowly, "your son, Clayton Landow, is guilty of embezzlement, and that

Hiram Landow clenched his fists. Foulkrod Kendall was unperturbed. He drew a paper from his pocket, and

"This morning," said Kendall, "I had my private auditor go over your son's books. Clayton's own record was

all that we requested. But, during his absence he went out on business which I gave him we checked the

old books which came in from the theater managers. You will observe the discrepancy."

"Not much money," observed Foulkrod Kendall, "but enough to put Clayton in prison for ten years. I might

add that I have a man watching his office to see that the books are not removed from the safe. Clayton may

"This is terrible!" Hiram Landow seemed stupefied. "My son a thief! I cannot believe it! It must be a lie!"

"I did not like to tell you of this," said Kendall quietly. "I have revealed these facts only because of this crisis.

Governor, Ronald Elverton was my friend. I cannot believe him guilty of murder any more than you can

"That is up to you," returned Kendall quietly. "I can simply tell Clayton that we need the old books no longer.

He will then destroy them. All will be forgotten. He will have a chance to make amends by living a righteous

future. But" an evil smile flickered on the speaker's lips "the price that I demand is the pardon of Ronald

"Your political future?" queried Kendall, in a meditative tone. "Do you think that this will help it? Would it

not be better to lay the act of pardon upon Doctor Conrad Guyon than to lay the act of embezzlement upon

"Like father like son," remarked Kendall dryly. "A good rule works both ways. Like son like father."

"You will be elected to the Senate," continued Kendall, after a pause. "The governorship is but a step in your

political career. The pardon of Elverton will be forgotten. The conviction of your son will always be

"This has been a terrible shock," admitted the governor, in a quavering voice. "It is dreadful, Kendall. I

appreciate your generous offer so far as my son's future is concerned. I do not want to pardon Elverton, but

you have set me thinking. I can believe anything, now that I have proof of my son's criminal action. I can

believe, therefore, that Elverton is innocent of murder. There are points of reason to Doctor Guyon's plea."

"I am convinced of that fact," affirmed Kendall. "That is why I brought the matter to your attention. If I am

willing to be lenient so far as your son Clayton is concerned, there is every reason why you should show

Hiram Landow was a beaten man. A deluge of miserable thoughts swept his brain. He slumped in a chair.

Foulkrod Kendall, watching the governor with a gloating smile, saw that the psychological moment had

From his pocket, the millionaire extracted another paper. He passed it to the governor. Hiram Landow studied

"The pardon for Ronald Elverton," announced Kendall quietly. "It awaits your signature. That will make it

"Here is the envelope," he said, "in which you may seal the document. I have a trusted chauffeur awaiting me.

He can take the pardon directly to the warden of the State penitentiary. The execution will be prevented."

"You have Doctor Guyon's plea," said Kendall, interrupting the governor's weak protest. "You can issue it as

Hiram Landow took the unsigned pardon toward the writing desk by the curtains. He turned as he neared that

Foulkrod Kendall stepped to the door to summon a servant. Hiram Landow paused before turning to the

writing desk. Neither he nor Kendall were looking toward the little table. No one saw what happened there.

THE heavy curtain trembled. From its depths came a black projection which developed into the vague shape

of a human arm. A black fist approached the center of the table. It placed an object there.

The hand lifted. The article which it had produced was a bottle of ink, similar in size and shape to the one

which already rested on the table. Then, with the same easy motion, the black hand plucked up the original

Hiram Landow reached the writing desk. He laid the document beside the bottle of ink which the hand from

the dark had put there. He uncorked the bottle, dipped the pen in ink. With a sweeping flourish, the governor

Blue ink glittered upon the white paper. The governor surveyed his handiwork. With a gasp and a shake of

his head, he applied a blotter to the paper, and folded the pardon so that he could no longer view the name

Foulkrod Kendall was coming in from the doorway. With him was a man in uniform Tim Mecke. The

governor was putting the pardon in the envelope which Kendall had provided. As the two men neared him,

"Here is the message to the warden," announced Hiram Landow, in a feeble tone. "Take it, Kendall send it

"Absolutely," declared Kendall. The millionaire turned to Tim. "Mecke, drive immediately to the penitentiary

at New Avalon. Give this envelope to Warden Barringer. You must get there before midnight."

"I shall remain in this city over night," added Kendall. "I shall return to New Avalon by train tomorrow

Tim Mecke left on his appointed task. Foulkrod Kendall turned to look at Hiram Landow. The millionaire

The manufacturer departed. Governor Landow remained alone. He was staring at the doorway through which

Again, the curtain trembled. The blackened hand stretched forth to replace the bottle of ink upon the writing

table. The same hand took away the bottle which had been substituted the one into which the governor had

When Hiram Landow arose to leave the gloomy room, his eyes fell upon that bottle. The governor did not

suspect the substitution. He stopped at the writing table to lay down the sheaf of papers which constituted

The governor went out. The curtain moved. Blackness this time in greater mass emerged. The tall form of

The Shadow developed into a sinister shape. A low whisper came from the lips beneath the slouch hat.

A blackgloved hand picked up the papers which lay upon the governor's table. The white sheets crinkled as

they disappeared beneath the crimsonlined cloak. The walls echoed softly with the reverberations of the

Shadow's suppressed mirth. The phantom being glided across the floor and passed through the door beyond.

Sobbing echoes lingered weirdly. They seemed to cling to those curtains from which The Shadow had

emerged, as though they regretted the departure of the master. Through those curtains, the hand of The

Doctor Guyon's statements would not be needed on the morrow. Hiram Landow, to save his son, had signed

The Shadow, by his unseen action, had counteracted the governor's momentous signature! He The Shadow

IT lacked twentyfive minutes of twelve o'clock when an automobile came to a sharp stop before the iron

portals of the State penitentiary near New Avalon. An excited driver blew his horn. A man came out from a

guardhouse and threw the rays of a flashlight toward the car. The beam revealed the visage of Tim Mecke.

He extended a card one which had been obtained by Foulkrod Kendall. It bore the warden's signature,

allowing the holder admission to the prison. The guard went back to his house. The gates swung open. Tim

It had been a grueling drive from the State capital. The sedan in which Tim was seated was dripping with rain

from a fierce storm through which the man had ridden. It was drizzling here in the courtyard of the

penitentiary; roads had been slippery all along the way. Yet Tim had made it with nearly half an hour to

The gangster grinned as he showed his permit to an inner guard. He was ushered along a corridor to the

An anteroom was jammed with men newspaper reporters, guards, and others who were to witness Silk

Elverton's execution. Tim spoke to one of the uniformed men. He stated that he must see the warden at once.

The guard thrust himself between Tim and a glasspaneled door. Tim could see the words upon the barrier:

"You can't go in there," growled the guard. "Not a chance, young fellow. Warden Barringer is busy."

"Of course. That's why these hounds are around here. They're going downstairs with the warden."

Tim Mecke nodded. He knew that he would have the opportunity he wanted. In reply to his question, the

guard assured him that this was the only door to the warden's office. Tim planted himself at a convenient

spot, and listened to the talk between two newspaper men who were standing close by.

"Well I guess you're hardboiled. It gives me the willies, though, to think of a fellow being snuffed out

"That depends. He gets the hot shock. The physician makes an examination. If it looks like there's a chance of

"You can't tell. Generally, they're shooting the juice through a body that's already dead. It's just a humane

idea, I guess so there won't be any chance of life remaining. The autopsy comes after the execution has

Tim Mecke was listening mechanically. This conversation was of little interest to him. He was watching the

"The juice burns them, doesn't it?" Jake was asking. "One jolt ought to do the trick."

"Electric current is funny," returned the other reporter. "There's such a thing as getting too much of it in one

shock. They use alternating current in most pens, on that account. It burns bad, they say. There's talk of

THE conversation continued. Bob had a hazy idea of just how the death current acted, but he managed to

convey to Jake that there was a difference in the effects of direct and alternating currents. While the two

reporters were still discussing the matter, the door of the warden's office opened, and a squatty, grayhaired

"Get ready, boys," announced the grayhaired man, amid the hush which had fallen. "We're going downstairs

in about three minutes. They are ready there. Doctor Guyon is present in the electrocution room."

Tim Mecke stepped forward as Warden Barringer was talking to the guards beside him. In his hand, Tim held

"Just a minute, warden," interrupted Tim, in a low voice. "I've got something important to tell you."

Warden Barringer studied Mecke narrowly. He wondered what this man wanted. He saw the envelope in

"You'll have to open it, warden," whispered Tim. "In the office I can't talk to you out here. I've just come

The warden motioned toward the door. He spoke to the guards, and told them to allow no one to enter. He

conducted Tim Mecke into the office, and took the envelope as he walked to his desk.

"A pardon," said Tim, "for Ronald Elverton. A pardon, signed by Governor Landow."

The warden, seated at the desk, looked up in astonishment. This was unbelievable. He was unfolding the

The paper was open in Barringer's hands. The governor's signature was barely showing, but the warden did

not notice it while he was surveying the man who had brought the envelope. Then, on the paper that rested

As cleanly as if an invisible hand had acted, the signature of Hiram Landow obliterated itself from the

pardon! The rapid, disappearing ink performed its function with surprising suddenness. This was the magic in

that bottle of ink which The Shadow had substituted in the governor's room. The special fluid lost its color

Warden Barringer stared at the paper. As he glanced down the typewritten lines, he fancied that he caught the

glimmer of blue ink below. When his eyes jumped to that point, the warden saw that he was mistaken.

THIS document bore the wording of a pardon but its most important part was blank. The paper bore no

"It is a pardon from the governor!" retorted Tim. "Read it. Look at the signature "

In answer, the warden arose and flashed the paper before Tim's eyes. The camouflaged gangster stood in

Angrily, the warden tore the unsigned pardon in half. He flung the pieces to the floor. With a contemptuous

"Listen, warden!" Tim was pleading as he clutched Barringer's arm. "There's been a mistake. This pardon was

"I have no time for you," interposed Barringer coldly. "By rights, I should order your arrest, but the hoax is so

Shaking off Tim's grasp, the warden strode from the office. Tim followed wildly; the men who joined the

rapidly walking warden cut Tim off from the man he sought to reach. The crowd was passing through an iron

doorway. As Tim tried to break through to overtake Barringer, a guard stopped him roughly.

Tim fumbled and produced the card that had gained him admission to the penitentiary.

"That won't do!" exclaimed the guard. "I want the special permit that lets you down to the death room, or I

The guard thrust Tim Mecke to one side. The last of the crowd was passing through the doorway. The iron

The guard thought that Tim Mecke had gone berserk. Then, as he saw the man become calm and tense, he

"Go back in the room outside the warden's office," said the guard. "You'll find the telephone there."

Tim hurried back. He called the operator. He was balked. The girl on the wire refused to put through a

longdistance call for this unknown speaker. Desperately, Tim gave the number of Foulkrod Kendall's home,

"Quick!" pleaded Tim. "Call the Barnes Hotel at the State capital. Tell Mr. Kendall to communicate with the

Seated by the telephone, Tim watched the clock. The long minute hand had almost reached twelve, when

Tim's call to Kendall's home was ended. Two minutes to go! Tim knew that the cause was hopeless.

DOWNSTAIRS in the death room, guards were adjusting the clamps to Silk Elverton's legs. Emotionless, the

smooth crook was seated in the electric chair, staring stolidly at the throng of men who watched him. He

could see the stern face of Warden Barringer. He observed the calm visage of Doctor Conrad Guyon.

The end was here. Silk knew that his pals had failed him. He said nothing. Deep silence pervaded the death

room as the contacts were completed. Warden Barringer glanced at his watch and gave a signal.

Silk Elverton's form quivered as it received the death current. Observers were too tense to even gasp. They

saw the distorted countenance of the man in the electric chair. The dimming lights within the room made the

Upstairs, Tim Mecke gave a groan as the lights in the anteroom began to flicker. The gangster knew the

meaning of the dull illumination. Current, taken from the dynamos, was serving another purpose than that of

Some one had played the double cross. It could have been Foulkrod Kendall; it could have been the governor.

Whoever it was, the man would pay. Tim Mecke would see to that. He could still threaten Kendall; if the

millionaire could prove that he had not perpetrated the hoax, Tim would square this affair with Hiram

IN the death room below, calm men were studying Silk Elverton's twisted body. Doctor Conrad Guyon spoke

the final words. He pronounced the murderer dead. The body was to be removed for the autopsy required by

Tim Mecke heard the solemn throng as the men passed the door of the anteroom. He listened to awed voices,

then heard the harsher statements of more hardened witnesses. The story was going to the newspapers for

Warden Barringer walked by, talking to men who were with him. He went into the inner office, without even

The telephone beside Tim began to ring. Mechanically, the gangster picked it up. He heard the voice of

"You're too late," said Tim, in a dull tone. "That pardon you gave me was a phony."

"You say the governor signed it?" quizzed Tim, in a low voice. "Well, he fooled you, then. You'd better get

back to New Avalon tonight. I'll be waiting to see you. I'm ready to blow the works if I think you played us

"Yes," growled the gangster, "Silk Elverton took the hot seat. He's dead. I'm going to get some one for it.

The gangster hung up the receiver. He strode from the room and went outside. The drizzle had increased to a

rain. Tim did not notice it. He was feverish with repressed rage. Silk Elverton was dead!

Vengeance rankled Tim Mecke's brain. He would know the reason for this hoax that had cost the life of his

pal. Foulkrod Kendall Hiram Landow one, perhaps both, would pay! Tim would get the man who had let

Not for an instant did Tim Mecke suspect the presence of a hidden hand behind Silk Elverton's visit to the

death room. He had not been present to see Governor Landow sign Silk's pardon. Had he been there at that

Little did Tim realize that he had actually brought a signed pardon to Warden Willis Barringer; that the

signature of Governor Hiram Landow had actually existed up until the moment when the warden had viewed

Every effort had been made to stay the wheels of justice. A hidden power had intervened to render the

deserved execution possible. The might of The Shadow had sent Silk Elverton to the death room, over the

"CHARLTON will be here shortly," said Doctor Conrad Guyon. "Then we shall be ready to proceed with the

Warden Willis Barringer nodded. He and the physician were standing in a gloomy, stonewalled room.

"Do you intend to do any of the dissection yourself?" questioned the warden. "Or will you leave it to Doctor

"I shall begin," declared Guyon. "After that, Charlton may continue while I supervise. Of course, we have

Harper here to help us" the physician indicated a solemnfaced attendant who stood by the door "so

"Nevertheless," remarked Barringer, "you are putting yourself out, Doctor Guyon. The autopsy could easily

have been postponed until the morning. We could have kept the body at the penitentiary."

"It is better this way," asserted Guyon. "Here, in my own dissecting room, I take little account of time.

Indeed, I prefer to work at night. It is wise, also, to perform an autopsy of this sort as soon after the execution

As the warden stood silent, Guyon extended his hand to bid the official good night. Harper, the taciturn

attendant, began to busy himself in preparation for the autopsy. Barringer turned and walked to the door, with

As soon as the warden was gone, Guyon returned and indicated the door. He issued quick commands to his

"Be sure that the outer door is bolted," ordered Guyon. "Then get Doctor Charlton on the telephone. Tell him

it will not be necessary for him to come until I call him; that I am temporarily engaged, and that I intend to

While Harper was obeying these instructions, Doctor Guyon began a preliminary study of the body. The

physician's usual languor had entirely disappeared. He was eager and alert tonight.

When Harper reappeared, the physician was still at work. He ordered the attendant to wheel up a small

machine that stood in the corner. Harper complied; Guyon attached an apparatus that covered Elverton's face.

This machine, as Guyon started it with a slow whir, seemed to be having the effect of a pulmotor.

Harper was now standing by. Doctor Guyon made repeated motions which the man seemed to understand. He

brought different instruments to the physician. Guyon received a stethoscope which he attached to his ears; he

Long minutes went by. Guyon's face was apprehensive. He ordered Harper to remove the pulmotor device

from Elverton's face. Still listening intently through the stethoscope, the physician beckoned to the attendant.

"There is a chance, Harper," he said, as he removed the stethoscope from his head. "A long one but the

possibilities are here. Results will occur rapidly if they occur at all. Bring me the epinephrin."

Harper appeared with a small box. Guyon took out a hypodermic syringe, he tore aside the clothing that

partially covered Elverton's chest, and placed the point of the needle against the flesh.

There was a tenseness in the physician's manner. Harper, the silent man beside Guyon, knew the reason. The

physician was about to perform the most difficult of all injections; one which could fail if he made the

slightest slip. Guyon was sending the point of the needle directly to Elverton's heart!

Slowly, with calculated precision, Guyon made the injection. He withdrew the needle. He studied the inert

form. He nodded to Harper. The test had been made; its success was in the balance.

The stethoscope again. While Guyon used it, Harper appeared with a vial containing a bluish liquid. The

physician drew up a quantity of the substance with a dropper. He let three globs of the potent liquid fall

within Elverton's mouth, Harper holding the jaws apart while the operation was performed.

"Another injection may be necessary later on," observed Guyon, standing with the stethoscope in his hands.

"If we succeed, and I believe we shall, there will be a remarkable recovery. I pronounced this man dead,

"You remember the case of that murderer Carish. We could have completely revived him, Harper, had we

chosen to do so. Carish received more shocks than this man. Of course, there was no reason why we should

have brought Carish back to life. Perhaps" Guyon's tone was ironic "that was the reason why he showed

"I am glad now, Harper, that I never recommended the use of alternating current instead of direct. Electricity

The exclamation came as Guyon suddenly bent above Silk Elverton's body. The physician fancied that he had

New preparations began with great rapidity. At intervals, Guyon was on the point of making a second

injection of epinephrin. Then, when the restoration of life appeared most futile, a noticeable flicker appeared

"We have won, Harper!" he exclaimed. "It will be a question of minutes now. We have won!"

A telephone began to ring in an adjoining room. Doctor Guyon glanced at his watch. It was exactly half past

"Attach it," he ordered. "I shall answer the telephone. It may be Charlton. I must talk to him this time."

While Harper followed the physician's instructions, Guyon went through a doorway. He picked up the

"Yes... Yes..." A slow smile crept to Doctor Guyon's lips. "I understand... Certainly... Mecke's threat was to

be expected... Yet it is no cause for alarm... You say he is still there... Very well, bring him with you and

come here... Yes, tell him that I can explain everything to his satisfaction... Come secretly, of course. What is

The physician hung up the receiver and returned to the dissecting room. Harper was still working upon Silk

Elverton's body. The dim room, its illumination centered upon the table, was a morbid place.

Two men at work upon a corpse which seemed to live! Yet neither Guyon, skillful in his actions, nor Harper,

IT was nearly four o'clock when Doctor Guyon again left the dissecting room in response to a muffled clang

Guyon had chosen to answer the door himself. The physician walked through a vaulted corridor, unbarred a

With a smile, Guyon led the men into the room where the telephone was located. He motioned them to chairs.

Kendall sat down, a worried took upon his face. Mecke remained standing, eying Guyon with a challenging

"You will pardon me a moment," said the physician. "I have an important call to make."

He picked up the telephone and rang a number. After a pause he spoke to some one at the other end.

"Hello, Charlton," said the physician. "I am just beginning the autopsy... Yes, the dead man's body is here...

Suppose you come up in about half an hour... Very well... I shall have progressed well by that time."

Hanging up the telephone, Guyon turned to his visitors. He put a quiet question, in a tone that indicated

"The trouble!" Tim Mecke was the one who answered. "I'll tell you the trouble. I thought this was a stall, the

moment Kendall wanted me to come down here. I don't know what Kendall's been telling you, Guyon, but

"I'm a crook, and so is Kendall! We were both in the racket with Silk Elverton. That's why Kendall wanted

you to back his plea to the governor. The pardon was a fake. I came down to the pen with an unsigned paper.

"I've told Kendall he's a doublecrosser. He claims the governor signed the pardon. We came down here

because Kendall said you would explain something. What there is to explain, I don't know "

"Mecke," interposed Guyon in a voice which made the gangster stop his frenzied discourse, "I have seen you

before, but I have never talked with you. Perhaps that explains your present attitude. You seem to be laboring

under the impression that I know nothing or very little about what has been going on.

"As a matter of fact, I have been very close to Kendall during all these activities. In public life, he plays the

part of the businessman; I, the part of a mere shareholder in his enterprises. Actually, we have always teamed

Tim Mecke stood with open mouth. He had wondered why Kendall had insisted upon his coming here. The

"Kendall and I," resumed Guyon, "conspired to save Silk Elverton's life. I prepared the plea; Kendall put it

across. If Kendall says he thought the pardon was signed, I am ready to accept his word for it. As I

understand it, you were up by the warden's office when the execution took place. I was downstairs in the

"I have told Mecke to be reasonable," asserted Kendall. "I brought him here so that you could talk to him,

Guyon. I have told him that we will do all we can for him; that there is nothing which we cannot do."

"You can't bring back Silk Elverton!" blurted Tim. "That's what I want it's what Barbier and Cumo want.

Doctor Guyon held up his hand in interruption. He walked slowly to the door of the dissecting room and

beckoned to the others to follow. Kendall wondered. Mecke suspected a trap. Nevertheless, they obeyed the

TIM MECKE stared as he saw the body that rested upon the low table in the gloomy room. The face, half

"The corpse of Ronald Elverton," announced Guyon quietly. "I am about to remove the brain, to preserve it

for study. Another physician, Doctor Charlton, is coming to continue the work with me."

"Officially, yes," returned the physician, with a shrewd, knowing smile. "Actually, no. It is a corpse which I

obtained recently for dissection, so that I might remove the body of Elverton after the electrocution."

"I shall answer both questions simultaneously," smiled Doctor Guyon. "Come with me."

He opened a door on the other side of the dissecting room. He ushered Foulkrod Kendall and Tim Mecke into

Propped upon a hospital cot, his eyes wide open and flashing as they stared toward the door, was Silk

Elverton! While Kendall and Mecke met the smooth crook's steady gaze, the voice of Conrad Guyon sounded

"Ronald Elverton," declared the physician slowly. "Sentenced to die for murder. Electrocuted in the State

"Ronald Elverton. You see him after death. Yes, after death, he has returned to life! I have brought him from

FOULKROD KENDALL was in his corner room. He was talking on the telephone. His eyes were eager and

"Yes... Yes..." The millionaire was smiling. "All right, Conrad. I shall arrange it for tonight... This will be

your first visit to the place. Good. You will be there to inaugurate the new beginning... Nine o'clock. You

Kendall was thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair. This was the first talk that he had held with Conrad

Guyon since that eventful night when he and Tim Mecke had visited the physician.

There had been a conference that night. Guyon, now revealed as the most potent factor in the development of

"Under no circumstances," the physician had said, "must you talk of what has happened here. Let Mecke tell

The enemy? Kendall had suspected Vic Marquette. It was conceivable that the secretservice man had

figured in these affairs. The matter of the governor's pardon, however, was something that Kendall attributed

directly to Hiram Landow, himself. The Governor, Kendall decided, had pretended to sign the paper without

Vic Marquette had remained in town until after Elverton's execution. That had been a mere matter of detail

on the part of the secretservice operative. Vic had been present at the murder of Detective Donald Cady; he

Kendall picked up the telephone and made another call. This time, he talked with Tim Mecke. His words

"Tonight, at nine," declared Kendall. "Yes... He will be there... Do not say a word about it... In my private

office; then we will all go through to the experimental room... Yes, I know that Barbier and Cumo will be

"The governor? We'll talk about himtonight... Yes, I know you want revenge because he let Elverton go to

the chair... You know how we can get it but we don't want to take it out on young Landow until later... The

books are still in his safe. We're watching them to make sure the old man doesn't tip him off..."

The call ended, Kendall arose and walked from the room. One light still remained burning. Under its

illumination, a vague shape moved inward from the window. The form of The Shadow was revealed.

NO laugh came from the hidden lips tonight. The Shadow, as he seated himself at Kendall's desk, was

strangely grim. His piercing eyes seemed to burn amid darkness, as they roved about the room.

The Shadow, on that night when he had nullified the governor's pardon, had loosed a thunderbolt into the

camp of crime. He, in effect, had sent Silk Elverton to the electric chair. That, in turn, was the deed calculated

to make a final breach between Foulkrod Kendall and Tim Mecke. The Shadow had awaited developments.

Instead, Kendall and Mecke were still in accord. This could mean but one thing: that some other person had

Silk Elverton had gone to the electric chair. His death had been witnessed by two dozen men. The

newspapers had been filled with descriptions of the last scene in the electrocution chamber.

The Shadow, although he had not returned to New Avalon that night, suspected quickly that Kendall and

Mecke had laid their dispute before another party. The Shadow also had divined the identity of the individual

Although the physician had never appeared to be a participant in crime, his willingness to make a plea in

behalf of Silk Elverton had convinced The Shadow that the physician knew more than he had evidenced.

Had Mecke squealed on Kendall, as the gangster had threatened, The Shadow's course would have been an

easy one. With the two men still friendly, The Shadow had gone into his waiting game. Watching Kendall

was the surest course, for the millionaire was the intermediary of this crime. He had contact with Tim Mecke

and the counterfeiters; he also was the one who would naturally communicate with Doctor Conrad Guyon.

With his new plan of action, The Shadow was waiting for crime to bud again. When the silver scourge was

The Shadow had been counting upon the very thing which was to occur tonight: Doctor Guyon's first visit to

Foulkrod Kendall had made two telephone calls this evening. The first had been to Doctor Guyon. Kendall

had indicated specifically that Guyon would visit the silverware plant. In the second call, he had made

mention to Tim Mecke that some one would be there. An ordinary listener would have presumed that Kendall

But in his reference to the visitor whom Tim would meet, Kendall's wording had been different from The

Minutes passed while The Shadow remained seated in Foulkrod Kendall's own private room. Kendall had

gone upstairs. There was no chance of his immediate return. A soft, hollow laugh came from The Shadow's

This night had been expected. Kendall, Guyon, Tim, and the counterfeiters were all due at the factory. The

presence of another person some unknown factor did not matter. Throughout the interrupted development

of the silver scourge, The Shadow's hand had played the major part; but it had always remained hidden.

A blackgloved hand lifted the receiver of the telephone. A voice calm, but no longer sinister gave a

number in the nearby town of Hempstead. The operator put through the call. The Shadow waited.

IN two adjoining rooms of a small hotel in Hempstead, six men were lounging about in chairs. Among them

was Vic Marquette. The secretservice operative was wearing a disgruntled expression as he talked to his

"Maybe I'm a goof," declared Vic. "I brought you fellows here because I got a funny tipoff before I left New

Avalon. Some person called me on the telephone, and told me to get ready for a raid. That's why I brought

Vic's statement showed that the other men were also of the secret service. Vic was the chief of the crew, but

"If you know what you're doing, Vic," said one, "it's all right. But this is the third night that you've listened to

the voice you talk about. Each time it's told you to wait one more night. You may stay here forever at this

"Listen," growled Marquette. "I'm after two men that I know about. Barbier and Cumo are somewhere in this

locality. I traced them as far as New Avalon after that blank. I'm boss, and I'm going to stick it out until

The telephone began to ring. One of the secretservice men reached for it. Vic snatched it from his

subordinate's hands. Speaking in the mouthpiece, Vic listened for the reply. He heard it the low, even

Vic could not identify that voice, yet it seemed to be a link with the past. In his career with the secret service,

Vic Marquette had encountered a strange phantom who had fought and won amazing battles in the cause of

Vic Marquette was one of very few who had seen that weird avenger in action. This voice tonight it was

Steady words were coming through the receiver. Vic Marquette's face became eager. He made short, quick

replies that caused the members of his band to exchange glances among themselves. When the receiver

clattered on the hook, every listener knew that Vic Marquette had gained the word he wanted.

"It's come," announced Vic. "I've got the answer now. I was too blind to see it before. Listen, men, this

message fits like the pieces of a picture puzzle. It tells why that detective Cady was killed. It tells how

"That fellow that went to the chair Silk Elverton he was in it. I'm telling you, we're in on the biggest

chance we've ever had. We're going to land the smartest bunch you've ever met. We're going to bust the

neatest queercoin scheme you've ever heard of. I got enough just now to let me see it all. My eyes are open."

The other men were on their feet. They were plying eager questions. Vic Marquette shook his head. He would

BACK in Foulkrod Kendall's room, The Shadow was still seated at the desk. From Kendall's own home, he

had given the tipoff which Vic Marquette had been hoping to receive. A band of secretservice men would

Foulkrod Kendall Doctor Conrad Guyon Tim Mecke not one of those three could organize a stern

resistance. They would fight, but they lacked the skill of leadership in conflict. If Silk Elverton were still

The eyes of The Shadow gleamed, as though visualizing the features of the electrocuted crook. Then, from

The Shadow's lips came a whispered laugh. Weird, uncanny tones, they heralded incredible thoughts.

Silk Elverton! The visualization of that man as a living factor in impending crime had brought tremendous

realization to The Shadow's brain. He to whom the impossible was possible had divined the existence of

Men of crime would not lack a leader tonight! They would have one the unknown man whom Foulkrod

Kendall had mentioned over the telephone to Tim Mecke. From his own message to Vic Marquette, from the

train of deduction that his own words had begun, The Shadow had divined the unbelievable truth!

His master mind had accepted the strangest of all possibilities that Doctor Conrad Guyon, physician

Guyon's part had seemed a passive one; The Shadow now knew that it had masked the doctor's real activity.

Blackness swished through blackness. The Shadow's form moved toward the door. It stopped. Keen ears

heard Foulkrod Kendall's step upon the stairs. The millionaire was leaving for the factory.

The Shadow waited until the closing of the front door was audible. Then, through the silent living room, the

blackclad master followed the course that Kendall had taken. His form merged with darkness.

Men of crime would still be potent on this fateful night. Vic Marquette and his fellow operatives were taking

on a task that would give them desperate trouble. Grim work lay ahead of The Shadow.

FOULKROD KENDALL entered his private office. He turned on the light. Chuckles greeted his action. The

millionaire stepped back in consternation, then grinned weakly. Seated in the office were Doctor Conrad

"Thought you'd be here early," said the smooth crook. "So we came ahead. Where's Tim and the others?"

"Let's go in," suggested Silk, "They won't mind our coming early. They'll be glad to see me. Say, Doc" the

"Harper is all right," returned Guyon firmly. "He, like ourselves, is a crook. We will discuss him when we

"No," answered Silk. "Not near enough to know what's going on. He's parked off at the side of the road.

The three men left the office, and went into the corridor that led to the silver rooms. Kendall was amazed at

Silk Elverton's complete recovery from his trip to the electric chair. Silk seemed more alert than ever.

The trio reached their destination. Behind the closed doors, Silk Elverton exchanged warm greeting with Tim

Barbier and Cumo were standing by the machine, ready to operate it. In bins throughout the room were stocks

of counterfeited coins. The silver scourge was ready to be loosed the accumulated funds of imitation money

TIM MECKE grinned and tapped the holster at his side. The gangster, in his capacity as guardian of the

"Get them," ordered Silk. "Say you never know what's liable to turn up in a place like this."

"That's good," asserted Silk. "I made doc carry one tonight. He gave one to Harper, too; and I'm packing a

pair of .38s. Lost my short revolver after I killed that fool detective, but I can use these if I need them. You

The crooks engaged in friendly discussion which lasted for more than fifteen minutes. Then Cyrus Barbier

went to the machine, and Tony Cumo prepared to feed the stamper. Tim Mecke started toward the door.

"Yeah?" queried Silk. "Well, when you go out of here, have that gat of yours ready. See? And you, Tony

show some brains. Walk away from the machine cover up in back of him. You don't know who's liable to

be outside. Go ahead, Barbier; start the works while I show these fellows how to use their heads."

Kendall and Guyon exchanged knowing nods as they witnessed Silk Elverton's precautions. Instinctively,

SILK ELVERTON'S advice was more timely than even the smooth crook realized. As Silk was giving these

orders, another man was giving instructions beyond the barriers that guarded these rooms. Vic Marquette and

his band of men had entered. They were stationed along the sides of the corridor, covering the door through

Vic's low voice was audible to all. The leader of the secretservice squad was giving sound advice.

"Don't ease up one minute," said Vic. "Sooner or later, that door is going to open. When it does, we rush it."

All eyes were toward the door. Vic noticed this and ordered one man to watch back along the corridor toward

Kendall's office. The man obeyed. He saw blackness, but he did not observe the form that stood therein. The

Suddenly, the door of the experimental room swung open. Tim Mecke, his revolver half drawn from its

holster, stepped into the corridor. In a twinkling, the gangster caught the flash of revolvers. He drew his own

gun as he leaped backward. Vic Marquette boomed the first signal of the attack. Tim staggered.

The secretservice operatives sprang forward before the wounded gangster could manage to close the door.

Tim raised his gun to shoot as he tried to gain the safety of the inner door. Two shots from the raiders felled

him. Vic Marquette smashed against the inner door. The portal flew open, striking Tony Cumo, who was just

The raiders stopped just within the door. Silk Elverton, quick to see the situation, had his gun unlimbered.

Foulkrod Kendall and Conrad Guyon were drawing their weapons, as they leaped for cover. Cyrus Barbier

The secretservice men spread toward the enemy. It was their only course. The entire squad was in the room,

all men firing. Tony Cumo went down with a bullet in his body. Foulkrod Kendall aimed at Vic Marquette.

Before the millionaire could fire, a shot rang from the doorway. The millionaire collapsed. No one realized

In the heat of battle, furious men were facing one another. They did not see the figure of The Shadow, in the

Vic Marquette clipped Cyrus Barbier through an open space of the machine. Other secretservice men were

aiming at Doctor Guyon, who had reached the old counterfeiter's side. One operative fell wounded. Silk

Elverton, between the open door and a barricade of coinfilled bins, was the man who downed the

Guyon aimed to kill. He was safe, he thought, behind the machine which still pounded away, although no

silver strips were sliding into its maw. Again, The Shadow's automatic dispatched a leaden messenger. The

desperate physician fell. The Shadow had picked a narrow opening, and his bullet had found its mark.

With that shot, all gunfire ended. Vic Marquette uttered a shout of triumph. His men were falling upon the

wounded counterfeiters. Rogues at bay had been trapped in their lair! The evidence was here, in tremendous

VIC was dispatching operatives to the corridor. The Shadow's tall form disappeared from the doorway. It

glided along the corridor to a turn some distance from the outer door. There, The Shadow waited. He had

divined well tonight. His timely aid had saved the lives of men who sided with the law.

But all the men of crime had not fallen within the lair. One still remained a canny fighter who had stayed

his fire because he, alone, had observed the spurts of flame that had issued from the doorway. Silk Elverton

had realized that the way was blocked. He, alone, had scurried to a spot where The Shadow could not see

Shots had been fired in Silk's direction. The Shadow knew where the smooth crook had gone. The cessation

of fire, however, had caused The Shadow to retire. Silk Elverton, alone, could not conquer Vic Marquette's

Silk, however, realized his own incapability. He knew that his first shot would make him a target for half a

dozen marksmen. The crook was waiting for another opportunity. It came. The doorways were momentarily

Shots broke out. The crook was ahead of them. Into the corridor he leaped. There, chance favored him. A

target for The Shadow's distant aim, Silk plumped squarely into the arms of a secretservice operative. They

grappled and staggered along the corridor toward Kendall's office, past a corner which put them out of The

Safe while grasping a man whom The Shadow would not shoot, Silk gained another break. His antagonist

stumbled. Silk broke away and fled for safety. Shots pursued him. All but two of the secretservice squad

The pursuers were on his trail as he dashed from the building. Flashlights glimmered. Silk was running for a

parked car the one in which he and Doctor Guyon had come here. Harper, standing by the automobile,

An operative's shot felled Harper. The man dropped dead with a gargling cry as Silk shot the car into gear.

Before the secretservice men could get to their own cars, Silk would be far away. Vic Marquette had parked

the automobiles half a mile down a side road. A chase would be futile. The balked operatives hurried back to

SILK ELVERTON was gloating as he rode along the highway. Doctor Guyon was dead; so was Harper. He

had seen both men fall. Not one witness to his restoration from the grave now remained! Silk was sure that in

What if it was? Silk did not care. Through his mind were speeding the details of a daring game which he

could play with surety a game of perfect bluff. He knew that he had time to gain his objective a goal

In his final surmise, Silk was wrong. While the baffled operatives were back within the factory, a silent figure

was stealing from the building. A phantom shape entered a hidden car. Far behind the fleeing crook, it started

A futile effort? Not to the personage who drove that second automobile. The Shadow knew the identity of the

man who had fled. His master brain divined the place where Silk, in need of immediate funds, would go.

The Shadow was on the trail of Silk Elverton the murderer who had come from the dead to plot new deeds

CLAYTON LANDOW was seated in his office. This was an important night at the Kendall Theater. The

general manager of the theater circuit was making entries in his large book when he looked up in surprise to

Clayton's expression of astonishment changed to a gasp of incredulity. It was not the fact that the visitor held

a revolver; it was the face of the man before him that was so amazing. Clayton Landow was looking at Silk

Young Landow remembered Elverton from that night at Foulkrod Kendall's home. He seldom forgot a face.

The governor's son was at a loss. He could not imagine what course should be followed, even when he saw

Silk Elverton pocket his revolver. Silk, noting Clayton's expression, supplied answer.

"There is nothing you can do, Landow," he said. "I have paid the penalty. I am dead. If a thousand people

recognize me, It means nothing. I can declare myself as some one else. I am talking to you because you are

alone. Your testimony can mean nothing. I can shout from the housetops that I am Ronald Elverton. It does

"You will not get it!" retorted Clayton. "If you threaten me with a gun, you can be arrested, under your new

"I need no gun," returned Silk, with a knowing smile. "I have put my revolver away. You will give me the

With a strange familiarity, Silk walked to the desk and dug up an old record book from one of the chain

theaters. He opened it, found a page, and laid the volume in front of Clayton Landow.

Wondering, the governor's son obeyed. He noted, to his surprise, that the figures totaled more than the

"Where is the balance?" questioned Silk, with a laugh. "In your pocket, Landow that, at least, is what the

"I forged these records," resumed Silk calmly. "As Ronald Elverton, you understand. Now, as a new identity,

"They will believe the books. They would not believe Elverton but Elverton is dead."

"You know what this will mean," he said. "It will mean the end of your father's political career. Clayton

CLAYTON LANDOW was dazed. He realized he was the victim of a plot so insidious that there could be no

"I made the totals look phony," remarked Silk, as a last reminder of the hopeless situation, "so that you could

Clayton Landow saw. His own records depended upon these books. The upper figures appeared legitimate

they were the ones which Silk had raised. The totals, actually genuine, now appeared false. They were short.

To destroy these books now would be a confession of guilt. Foulkrod Kendall had ordered Clayton to keep

"How much money is there in the box office?" questioned Silk, while Clayton Landow pondered.

"Chicken feed," growled Silk, "but I want it. Come down with me. Go to the box office. Get the three

"Easily enough. Say that I am a new manager of a house in another town. Raise the three thousand yourself,

Clayton Landow nodded. This was the best way out. Silk Elverton was above the law. He wanted money to

go away. He would not return. Those falsified books probably they would never be opened by any one. The

In a daze, Clayton Landow arose. He left the office with Silk Elverton. They reached the street. They went to

"Three thousand dollars," ordered young Landow. "I want it for Mr. Saunders here. One of our new managers

The cashier counted out the money. He saw Clayton Landow pass the cash to Silk Elverton. The doorman

Chatting, the two men walked toward the street. Silk shook hands with Clayton Landow at the curb. He thrust

the money in his pockets. His hand encountered the butt of the revolver. Silk, as he listened to Clayton

A feeling of hatred surged through Silk's evil brain. He noted that the car was clear. A coupe had pulled in

back of it; nothing was ahead. Silk looked at Clayton Landow. He realized that this man's father was the

governor whose pardon had failed to save Silk from the terrible ordeal of the electric chair.

Clayton Landow complied. Silk placed one foot on the step. He gripped his revolver. He spoke suave words.

"I was a murderer," he said. "Now I am above the law. Perhaps it would be well to be a murderer again. I

The governor's son saw the look of venom on Silk's face. He started to move away. Silk gripped him by the

Silk drew his revolver. He stared at Clayton Landow, then let his eyes turn quickly to see that no one was

In that brief instant, Silk saw another pair of eyes. Burning orbs were gazing steadily from the open window

Silk looked at Landow. Yes, he would murder Landow; but this other enemy for so he felt the owner of

those eyes to be would die first! Again Silk met that burning gaze. His revolver was out of sight of those

Then, in a flash, Silk realized that he was facing some being of darkness. The unexplainable was explained.

The factors that had ruined the progress of the silver scourge were plain. All Silk's recollections of weird

He was the being who had battled crime in New Avalon! His power had sent Silk Elverton to the electric

Staring squarely toward those eyes, Silk Elverton edged his gun up beside Clayton Landow's body so cleverly

With a sudden yank of his left hand, Silk pulled Clayton Landow squarely in front of him. At the same

instant, the crook raised his right arm over Clayton's shoulder and aimed pointblank toward the eyes that

A terrific rear broke through the night air. It came from the open window of the parked car. The muzzle of

The Shadow's .45, one inch below the sill of the car window, had come up to the edge before Silk Elverton

The bullet clipped the crook's shoulder a glancing wound upon a difficult target. Silk staggered back, still

under partial cover; then, snarling disdainfully, he raised his gun again, totally oblivious of his wound.

Clayton Landow dropped away from the crook's grasp. Silk Elverton thought no more of the governor's son.

Landow later The Shadow now. Quick as he had been that night when he had slain Duffy Bagland

prompt as he had been when he had murdered Donald Cady Silk Elverton was every bit as rapid now. His

Once again, The Shadow intervened. The automatic had recoiled; it had come up again, with new and perfect

aim. It roared its message through the night. Its target, this time, was Silk Elverton's heart.

The crook sprawled headlong on the pavement. His forehead crashed with a terrific smash, which Silk

Elverton never felt. The man was dead before his body had reached the end of its twisting fall.

CLAYTON LANDOW stared at the crumpled form. He seized the revolver that had clattered to the sidewalk.

Witnesses were staring their eyes went to the coupe its interior was a mass of blackness.

A man moved forward cautiously and hesitated at the door of the car. Clayton Landow saw him. The

"It's all right," he said. "This man" he pointed to Elverton's body "was the crook. See who it was that got

The witness yanked open the door of the coupe. The light from the theater marquee showed the single seat.

Clayton Landow and the witness stared at each other in amazement. They looked across the street they saw

no one. It seemed as though the echoes of the automatic were still reverberating; actually, long seconds had

intervened since the shots were fired. In those lingering moments, The Shadow had departed!

A crowd gathered about Silk Elverton's body; policemen were in charge. A car shot up to the curb. Out

jumped Vic Marquette. Racing into the city, he had seen this throng. He flashed his badge an officer

"This was one of them," asserted Vic. "The last of Foulkrod Kendall's gang. We got them all. Kendall is

Amazed exclamations sounded in the crowd. Clayton Landow gained strange realization. He knew why Silk

Elverton had falsified the books. He realized dully that he was safe from unjust accusations.

FROM the blackened window of an upstairs room in the New Avalon Hotel, two burning eyes were staring

toward the scene below. They were the eyes which Silk Elverton had seen the blazing optics which had

The silver scourge was ended. Evil plotters were dead, their gigantic scheme for tainted wealth was

Yet the final triumph had been still greater. Working upon an intuitive clew, The Shadow had trailed Silk

Elverton, in time to end the crook's career before the murderer could strike down a new victim.

A creepy laugh floated from the window. Its strident mockery came to the ears of those below. Men stared at

one another; shivering at the sardonic tones of that mirth which seemed to come from an invisible source.

The laugh of The Shadow! It stood for the triumph of justice over wrong. It was the aftermath of The

Shadow's final stroke against the villains who had planned the silver scourge the mammoth crime that The

There was one who did not hear the echoes of that taunting laugh. The body of Silk Elverton lay silent by the

curb. The man who had come from the dead had returned to those with whom he belonged. The man who had

boasted that he stood above the law the man who legally was free would never again plot crime.

The law of The Shadow had pronounced him dead! The hand of The Shadow had fulfilled the judgment of