Crime, Insured

"The Melrues went through with the house sale just to bluff us. Afterward, they had to take to cover. By that time George had become worried. Francine took charge of everything. It is now her turn to be troubled."

Strampf nodded; he added the harsh remark:

"Because they have not heard from The Shadow. They do not know that The Shadow is dead.

Tomorrow, we can waylay them when they come to see Reddingham."

With a smile, Bradthaw shook his head.

"Too crude, Strampf," objected the crooked executive. "They might call Reddingham before they approached the office. Learning that he never received the letter, Francine would foresee danger. There is a better way to handle this."

Leaning across the desk, Bradthaw brought his fist down with a triumphant thump, as he announced:

"We shall let the Melrues hear from The Shadow!"

STRAMPF'S tiny eyes blinked before he caught the idea. Bradthaw waited; he could almost picture the workings of Strampf's mechanical mind. At last, Strampf spoke.

"It can be arranged," he stated, crisply. "A false message from WNX. One that the Melrues will accept as authentic word from The Shadow. Just what do you wish to tell them?"

"We must bring them here," declared Bradthaw. "Safely, without the slightest semblance of danger. I shall be the man whom The Shadow has appointed as custodian of the three million dollars."

Bradthaw's plan was perfect. His own reputation was undisputed. The Melrues would recognize his name, his standing as a big man in the insurance world. They would not hesitate at placing the three million dollars in his care. So Bradthaw reasoned, and Strampf agreed.

"They will tell me everything," chuckled Bradthaw. "That will enable us to cover every detail. If we learn that the Melrues have spoken to no one other than The Shadow, we can eliminate them promptly. Their disappearance will be complete.

"If they have mentioned their secret to certain friends, we can act accordingly. In that case, we shall keep the Melrues under cover until we have dealt with those other parties. Merely a precaution, Strampf."

Strampf nodded.

"A wise precaution," he agreed, "and therefore necessary. Whatever happens to the Melrues afterward, will never be blamed upon you, Mr. Bradthaw. However, I anticipate no complications. It is probable that the Melrues have spoken to no one other than The Shadow."

"And The Shadow," added Bradthaw, "would have spoken only to his agents. The Shadow is dead. As soon as the Melrues are on their way here, we shall eliminate The Shadow's agents also."

"With the exception of Burbank?"

"Burbank excepted. Until he has put that black-ray machine in operation. Afterward, death for Burbank!"

BRADTHAW had settled the question of The Shadow's agents. The verdict pleased Strampf. He would not have to keep further tabs on the prisoners. Ace Gandley's outfit would no longer be required.

Strampf had already set nine o'clock as the dead line, in case The Shadow's agents were to be eliminated. Under present circumstances, the death hour might come sooner.

At eight o'clock, the message would go from WNX. If the Melrues responded promptly, they would automatically sign the death warrant for five of the six prisoners who had once served as The Shadow's agents.

Burbank's message to The Shadow had called for aid before nine o'clock tonight. Events had shaped to produce an earlier dead line, without Burbank knowing it.

By nine tonight, rescue might prove impossible. Death was scheduled to reach the prisoners before The Shadow's arrival.

CHAPTER XIX. MESSAGE OF DOOM

EARLY evening found The Shadow's agents tense, even though they did not show it. A clock in their living room marked the approach of eight. One hour more would mark the limit that Strampf had given them.

All of the prisoners knew of Burbank's message to The Shadow. Burbank had passed the word along, by a silent eye-code that all the agents understood. Glances, with simple shifts of gaze, enabled them to spell out secret messages.

Ace Gandley's thugs were keeping close watch tonight. Each bedroom held a brace of armed men; others were watching from the main door that led into the living room. In effect, the prisoners were surrounded by a ring of captors.

They knew, too, that Ace had henchmen upstairs, with lookouts posted outside the house. Nevertheless, the prisoners felt confidence in The Shadow's ability to enter anywhere. In their mind, the future was settled.

The Shadow knew that Strampf was due at nine o'clock. The agents could picture their chief awaiting the cadaverous man's arrival, as the right time for a thrust of rescue.

As minutes ticked toward eight o'clock, an unexpected change took place. Ace Gandley came into the room.

Ace was a burly ruffian whose grin added to the natural ugliness of his face. His eyes carried a mean glint as he squinted toward the prisoners. Ace picked out Burbank.

"Come along, you! I got something to talk about."

Burbank had to comply. He did not like it, for he preferred to be with the other prisoners when Strampf arrived. Ace's order predicted unforeseen complications, especially when the ugly-faced leader added a command to the guards.

"Drag out that machine," Ace told them. "Bring it along after you've locked up the little rooms."

Ace took Burbank through the main door. They followed a narrow passage to a room that served as Ace's headquarters. A tough-faced rowdy was seated at a radio.

Burbank noted a telephone in the corner; also a long, flat box with a padlock. He saw a large master-switch on the wall - one that apparently controlled all the lights in the building.

"Sit down," growled Ace. Then, to the man at the radio: "All right, Kelvey. Tune in on WNX."

ACE watched Burbank. The contact man remained impassive, but he sensed the ominous. Burbank could almost guess what was due next.

There was a crackle of static. WNX was on the air. Chimes registered eight o'clock. A purred voice followed, it was the tone of a new announcer. The speaker stressed certain words:

"It is unwise to leave important matters to the future. Act immediately. Insurance will meet your problems.

It is a friend at all times. Be square with yourself -"

The voice purred on, but it no longer emphasized words. The message was given, and Burbank had heard it. So had Ace. The ugly crook was grinning at the concern shown by The Shadow's agent.

Burbank could not take his eyes from the radio. His fixed gaze told that he understood.

"Leave immediately. Meet friend at Times Square."

Such was the message; and it could not be from The Shadow. Someone had placed a new announcer at WNX, to send a false message. Unquestionably, that message was for persons whom The Shadow intended to protect. Instead, it was designed to enmesh them.

Ace offered Burbank no further explanation regarding the message itself. As a matter of fact, Ace did not know the full details. Marvin Bradthaw had swung the deal. He had arranged with WNX to take over a sustaining program that usually went on at eight o'clock.

Bradthaw had managed it easily. He had previously used radio as a booster for insurance sales. WNX

had gladly accepted him as a commercial backer for a regular program. The introduction of a new announcer was an acceptable proviso.

ELSEWHERE, listeners had heard that message. In their hidden apartment, George and Francine made haste to answer the long-awaited call. They packed their three million dollars in a suitcase and hurriedly put on hats and coats.

Five minutes later they were in a taxi, riding to Times Square.

The trip was a short one. When they alighted from the cab, the Melrues decided to wait at the neatest corner, where anyone looking for them would recognize them immediately. Their wait was less than three minutes.

A man stepped from the crowd and spoke to them. They recognized Louis Caudrey.

George was not sure that Caudrey was the friend whom the message meant, until the droopy actuary motioned them into another cab. In a low tone, Caudrey informed:

"Reddingham received your letter. Right after that, he heard from some mysterious party who had made arrangements for tonight. What it's all about, I don't know; but Reddingham asked me to meet you."

Caudrey's tone was frank. It fooled George effectively. Francine's details had not included the names of criminals who sought the three million dollars. Hurden, of course, was linked; but George knew nothing of the proxy's connection with Caudrey.

It looked as though Caudrey had been deputed as a reliable person by both The Shadow and Reddingham.

"We're going to see a big insurance man named Marvin Bradthaw," explained the actuary. "Whatever your business is, Reddingham says you can show full confidence in Mr. Bradthaw."

Caudrey was watching both his companions as he spoke. If either of the Melrues had shown distrust, Caudrey would have flashed an emergency signal.

Thugs were close at hand, ready to spring to action if needed. The cab was away from the corner, in a spot where smart trigger men could board it instantly and subdue the occupants without fuss. The driver, too, was in the game.

It happened, however, that both George and Francine took Caudrey at his word. The actuary closed the cab door and gave an order to the driver. The cab started off.

Watchers slid away to put in a telephone call. The news would reach Strampf long before the Melrues reached the downtown Solidarity Tower.

Within fifteen minutes after the false message had been broadcast from WNX, the Melrues were within the meshes of the far-flung network controlled by Marvin Bradthaw.

THAT quarter hour had proven a troubled one for Burbank.

First, Ace Gandley had introduced an underworld brother named Kelvey as the fellow who had imitated Burbank's voice to fool The Shadow's agents. With a grin Kelvey put on his act for Burbank's benefit.

Kelvey's own tone was a raspy one. He used it first.

"This is Kelvey," he spoke. Then in methodical fashion, he added: "Burbank speaking."

"Pretty neat huh?" gloated Ace, to Burbank. "Maybe I ought to send Kelvey in to pull it on those other lugs. Give 'em a laugh before they croak."

Ace eyed Burbank but saw no effect. Angrily Ace added:

"You think I'm waiting until Strampf shows up at nine o'clock! You got another guess. That's been switched! All Strampf's waiting for, is word that the radio stuff worked. When he gets that, he'll call here.

We'll be set!"

Two of Ace's thugs were bringing out the black-ray machine. They had dismantled it; Burbank saw them stack the parts in the crate. The pair opened a long padlocked box. From it they produced three submachine guns.

"We're doing it right," informed Ace. "We're going to spray those pals of yours! When that's done, we pull the big switch and beat it. This whole joint will cave!

"You're lucky, Burbank. Strampf needs you to work on that machine. That's why you're going along with us. I'm telling you this so you'll have sense enough to lay off any dumb stuff."

The importance of the next few minutes loomed upon Burbank. Desperately, he sought some way to aid his fellow agents. For the first time Burbank was ready to believe that The Shadow had been eliminated, as crooks claimed. Still there was a chance that his chief was still alive.

Despite his desire for mad action, Burbank retained his methodical manner. He looked across the room; calmly arose from his chair and started in the direction of the crate that held the ray machine.

"What's the idea?" snarled Ace roughly. He sprang across to grab at Burbank's shoulders. "Who told you to fool with this thing?"

"You said that Strampf wants me to fix it," returned Burbank. "It will be ruined, the way these men of yours packed it. Since my life depends upon it. I naturally want to keep the machine in good shape."

BURBANK started to remove portions of the apparatus from the crate. He reached the base and began to untangle its wires. A moment more and Burbank would have had them connected to send a message by the radio beam. A call for The Shadow, stating that nine o'clock would be too late.

Burbank had worked a message under Strampf's nose. He could fool Ace as easily. Unfortunately, the necessity of unpacking some of the apparatus had put another idea into Ace's head. The mobleader guessed that something was up. His conclusion, though erroneous, defeated Burbank.

"I get it," jeered Ace. "You're trying to stall things so we can't rub out your pals as soon as Kelvey gets that call from Strampf! Smart gags like that don't work with me!"

Roughly, Ace hauled Burbank from the crate and shoved him back to his chair. As Burbank sprawled, he could see the loose wires dangling from the side of the crate. He had not even managed to hook up the connection to send an unbroken beam.

Kelvey was at the telephone. Murderous men were ready with their machine guns. All that was needed was Strampf's call, plus Ace's order. One would bring the other; and both were due at any minute.

Quarter past eight. As Burbank figured it, there would be fifteen minutes more before The Shadow arrived outside to stay on watch for Strampf. If The Shadow could come and did arrive, the most that he could accomplish would be revenge upon departing crooks.

Through Burbank's brain flashed sounds of the future. He could picture the drill of machine guns; a titanic blast that would sink this prison into a ruined tomb.

Such would be the finish of The Shadow's agents.

CHAPTER XX. CHANGED DEATH

IN his hopeless picture of the future, Burbank had also visualized the outside darkness that surrounded the prison house. Silent, vacant darkness as Burbank imagined it. Gloom that covered Ace Gandley's lurking lookouts, and enshrouded no one else.

That picture was half right. The darkness was silent; but it was not vacant. Figures were creeping close to the walls, unnoticed by the thugs stationed there as pickets.

The front door of the house offered poor approach, for there was a street lamp opposite it. There was a side door, however, that could be reached by a short passage from the street. That door was well sheltered by darkness.

The back door, opening into a rear space behind the buildings on the next street, was completely darkened. Like the side door, it offered a possible route of entry.

At the side door, close against the darkened barrier, a cloaked figure was at work. Black-gloved fingers were handling a tiny probe in expert, noiseless fashion. The Shadow had arrived ahead of schedule. He had been in this vicinity since eight o'clock.

The back door was also yielding to an expert worker. The Shadow had brought along an aid to handle the second route. The man at the back was Tapper, whom The Shadow had mentioned when talking with Slade Farrow.

When it came to getting into places that served as strongholds of crime, Tapper recognized only one superior: The Shadow.

This task, however, involved more than the act of entry. As The Shadow's probing pick released the lock, there was a sound from the wall beside the door. One of Ace's lookouts was making his inspection.

The fellow had approached with stealth. As The Shadow turned, a flashlight glimmered.

For a half second, the guard saw The Shadow. Then, a gloved hand clamped over the lighted end of the flashlight. The lookout tried to spring away in the darkness, whipping out a revolver as he shifted. The Shadow's other arm was already on its way. A gloved fist sledged a heavy automatic straight to the lookout's head.

The Shadow hoisted the thug's limp body. Carrying the lookout into the house, The Shadow silently locked the door behind him.

TAPPER, meanwhile, was making progress with the rear door. His work was good, but Tapper was slower than The Shadow and, occasionally, he gave betraying clicks. Those sounds were heard.

A stealthy lookout paused near a rear corner of the house. Holding a flashlight behind him, he blinked it.

A second watcher joined him.

Together, the pair sneaked up to the rear door. Tapper did not hear them. The crooks waited until he released the lock, a matter of only a dozen seconds. One nudged the other; their flashlights came on.

Tapper swung about, to face a pair of gun muzzles.

Staring, Tapper raised his arms. He was looking at his captors; as he did, he saw a mammoth figure rise above their shoulders. Two huge hands swept inward, to take the necks of the crooks. Powerful arms did the rest. Their sweep never stopped as the hamlike hands clacked two heads hard together.

Tapper saw the two lookouts slump to the ground. Their revolvers clattered with their flashlights. One torch went out; Tapper picked up the other, to extinguish it.

The glow showed the face of Tapper's helper, it was that of a giant African, who displayed a wide, pleased grin.

The man was Jericho, whose gigantic strength had made him useful in the past. Like Tapper, Jericho was a reserve worker of The Shadow; his name had not been learned by Strampf. Together, Tapper and Jericho made a combination that could accomplish certain tasks that The Shadow performed alone.

Inside the house, the pair met The Shadow. The cloaked invader chose the route he wanted.

IN the basement, Burbank was waiting glumly for the doom that he thought was due. His eyes were upon Kelvey, the key-man who was to receive the telephone call.

Ace was standing close by, but he was looking through the passage toward the room that held The Shadow's agents.

Doors were open. There, beyond the muzzles of aimed machine guns, the doomed prisoners stood in line. Once Ace spoke the word, death's withering fire would begin.

The telephone bell jangled. Ace spoke, without turning.

"Answer it, Kelvey," he ordered. "If it's Strampf -"

Burbank lunged from his chair. He hit Kelvey as the man reached for the telephone. Burbank was determined to delay death, if only for seconds.

Ace heard the clatter and wheeled about with a snarl. He saw Burbank pounding Kelvey. Ace aimed.

One bullet would settle Burbank. Strampf could get someone else to fix the ray machine. Ace's main job was murder; he wasn't going to have it delayed by a lug who thought he was too important to be killed.

That was the way Ace figured it, as he tightened his finger on the trigger.

Something stopped Ace's shot. It was a sound that rose strident above the loud ringing of the telephone bell. That token was a mocking laugh that Ace Gandley had never expected to hear again. Ace wheeled to the far door of the room.

There stood The Shadow, framed against a dimly lighted stairway.

Ace blinked as though he had seen a ghost. That, however, did not stop his move. Dead or alive, ghost or human, The Shadow was crime's greatest foe. Ace jabbed his gun muzzle toward The Shadow and yanked hard at the trigger.

Two guns spoke together. One was Ace's swinging revolver; the other, an automatic that loomed from The Shadow's fist. Muzzles spat flame; two bullets found instant lodgment; but those resting places differed.

Ace's shot was hasty. Its slug carved deep into the woodwork beside The Shadow's shoulder. The Shadow's bullet went straight to its mark - the heart of Ace Gandley.

CROOKS in the passage saw Ace fall. They turned, as they heard the challenge of The Shadow's laugh.

To others, that strident mockery was a battle-cry. From the wall of the inner room, five agents of The Shadow came forward with a surge.

They were battling for the machine guns before killers had a chance to use those weapons. Crooks whipped out revolvers; the fighting agents grappled for them. In the midst of the instant fray, The Shadow came sweeping through to aid them. Close behind The Shadow was Jericho and Tapper.

Tapper saw Burbank struggling with Kelvey. He jumped to Burbank's aid. Kelvey was trying to pull a revolver. Tapper settled that with one of his own. A neat crack to Kelvey's skull put the fellow out of commission.

Coming to his feet, Burbank grabbed for the telephone. It was his turn to provide an imitation. In raspy voice, he announced:

"This is Kelvey."

"All is ready!" The words came in the harsh voice of Strampf. "Give the order to Ace!"

Burbank had clamped his hand over the mouthpiece. He lifted it slightly, so Strampf could hear him rasp:

"Let 'em take it, Ace!"

For a few seconds more, Burbank kept the mouthpiece covered. Shots were starting in the inner room.

As the barrage increased, Burbank lifted his hand entirely. Across the wire went the sounds of intermittent gunfire, followed by the sudden drill of a machine gun.

With that came silence.

"Hear it?" questioned Burbank across the wire. "Ace gave it! We're ready to lam!"

AS Burbank hung up the receiver, a procession came through from the prison room. That parade showed how the battle had finished. There had been six thugs in the death squad. All had fared badly.

One unscathed thug came first, his hands upraised. Behind him were Harry and Cliff each poking him with a gun. Next came two thugs, unable to navigate of their own accord.

Jericho had charge of them. He had each crippled rowdy by the coat collar and was supporting them so they could stumble ahead.

Clyde Burke came out between Rutledge Mann and Moe Shrevnitz. Clyde was grinning while he clutched a wounded shoulder. He was the only one of The Shadow's followers who had taken a chance bullet while killers were being disarmed.

After that group came Hawkeye.

Last was The Shadow. No others followed. Three of Ace's murderous mob were lying dead in the prison room.

To Burbank, The Shadow gave a single-worded order:

"Report!"

Methodically Burbank told how he had handled Strampf's telephone call. He pointed out the switch that controlled the lights. Burbank suspected that it had a double purpose. The Shadow agreed.

The cloaked victor sent his agents ahead with the prisoners, including Kelvey who had recovered from Tapper's slug on the head. The Shadow retained Hawkeye so that he and Burbank could carry the crate that held the portable black-ray machine.

When they had gone, The Shadow waited in the room that had once been Ace Gandley's headquarters.

When all had gained time to reach the outside doors, The Shadow pulled the switch. Blackness followed; using a flashlight, The Shadow went up the stairs. Through the back door, he chose the path to the rear street. He arrived there, to find the others waiting. The Shadow paused.

From the front street came the muffled thunder of a deep-placed explosion. It was followed by a prolonged clatter, as the old house tumbled into ruins. Burbank was right; that light switch was set to touch off a timed explosion.

Crooks had intended that blast to cover up new evidence of death. The explosion had served its purpose. Bullet-riddled bodies lay beneath the ruins; but they were not the ones that Bradthaw and Strampf had planned should be there.

Ace Gandley and three of his thuggish crew had gone to the grave intended for The Shadow's agents.

CHAPTER XXI. CROOKS CLAIM WEALTH

THE explosion at the old house was the final touch of The Shadow's strategy. News of that blast traveled far and rapidly. It came to Marvin Bradthaw, in his fortieth-story office.

There, the insurance magnate was seated at his desk, while Strampf handled the dials of a big radio set.

They were listening to police calls. Within three minutes after the explosion, the plotters heard the orders that went to the radio patrol.

Bradthaw gave a nod. Strampf turned off the radio and came to the desk. He listened to Bradthaw's comment.

"Kelvey answered your telephone call," chuckled the criminal executive. "You heard the machine gun over the wire. The news of the explosion was all we needed. We are ready to deal with the Melrues when they arrive."

"That should he very soon," concurred Strampf. "Caudrey is well on his way."

With only a few minutes to wait, Bradthaw indulged in further comments.

"They will suspect nothing," he declared. "Nor will anyone else. I dismissed the office staff before eight o'clock. I stayed here presumably to hear the WNX broadcast and judge its commercial merits."

Strampf was nodding when Bradthaw paused. After a short silence Bradthaw added:

"It is unnecessary to have watchers outside this building. That was why I told you to bring none. Of course, we require the fake elevator man that you provided. He will obligingly forget that the Melrue heirs came up here but never returned below."

"That means," remarked Strampf, "that we shall take them down in the service elevator ourselves."

"Certainly. It will make them trust us all the more."

"Until they are put into the truck that is waiting for them -"

"After that, Strampf, nothing will matter."

The conversation ended. From somewhere outside the office came the muffled thump of an elevator door. It meant that Caudrey had arrived with the Melrues aboard the passenger elevator.

"Remember one thing," cautioned Bradthaw, leaning toward Strampf. "We must learn all that these people know before we show our hand."

Strampf nodded. He ended the motion abruptly when the door opened.

Bradthaw came to his feet to greet Caudrey. He smiled when the actuary introduced George and Francine.

BRADTHAW'S smile appeared to be one of welcome. Its real inspiration was his sight of the suitcase that George placed carefully beside the big desk.

After shaking hands with the visitors, Bradthaw explained matters in his convincing basso. His story was direct.

As Bradthaw put it, he had heard from The Shadow. He was to assume custody of the three million dollars, giving the heirs a receipt for the amount.

"In a sense," purred Bradthaw, "the funds will be insured. We shall take care of them and shall also arrange for your departure."

To Strampf and Caudrey, that smug statement had a double meaning. The funds were insured; but Caudrey was the person who held the claim. As for the departure of the Melrues, that was to have a rapid sequel. Bradthaw intended prompt doom for the swindled dupes.

"There is just one point," remarked Bradthaw. "In undertaking custody of these funds, I must be sure that you have mentioned the money to no one."

He looked from George to Francine as he spoke. It was the girl who answered:

"We have spoken to no one but The Shadow."

"Only Francine talked to him," added George. "Since you are working with him, Mr. Bradthaw we are quite willing to entrust you with our wealth."

George picked up the suitcase to hand it to Bradthaw. Francine stopped him.

"Wait!" Francine's tone was firm. "We trust you, Mr. Bradthaw, but there is one thing that puzzles us. We expected to meet The Shadow here."

George started to disagree with his sister. Bradthaw smilingly stopped George's objection.

"Of course," agreed the master-crook. "It simply happens that The Shadow was detained."

"By whom?" insisted Francine

"By other business," replied Bradthaw. "That is why he left the matter entirely in my hands. I know what is in your mind, Miss Melrue. You fear that some impostor represented himself as The Shadow, in order to deceive me. Am I correct?"

"Yes," said Francine, firmly. "I feel that we should have sufficient proof of your connection with The Shadow."

OBLIGINGLY, Bradthaw arose from his desk. He ushered the others out through the door that led to the short stairway. With George carrying the bag, they went up to the tower room.

There, Bradthaw pressed a switch that controlled the ceiling light. Francine and George stared at the black-walled sanctum.

"The Shadow's own headquarters," expressed Bradthaw in a hushed tone. "Something that he allows few persons to see. I felt that you - like Caudrey and Strampf - were among the privileged."

Gawking, George Melrue asked:

"You mean that this Shadow chap actually works from here, Mr. Bradthaw?"

"Of course!" replied the smooth-toned crook. "That is how he happened to become interested in your case. It began with the attempted theft of Miss Melrue's gems. You see" - Bradthaw turned to Francine -

"The Shadow foresaw that your gems might be stolen."

"He mentioned that," admitted Francine, "but I did not know exactly why he was interested."

"Because you had insured the jewels," smiled Bradthaw. "I shall divulge a secret. The Shadow is in the employ of the Solidarity Insurance Company."

"But my gems were insured by another company -"

"Which we control. That explains everything Miss Melrue. Here is my receipt for three million dollars. Let us have the suitcase."

George handed over the bag when Francine took the receipt. Bradthaw told Strampf and Caudrey to stack the funds on The Shadow's table. They counted the amount. It came to more than three million.

"That calls for a correction on the receipt," remarked Bradthaw. "Let me have the paper, Miss Melrue."

Francine opened her purse and looked for the paper. She had trouble finding it. Bradthaw looked on indulgently. He had no suspicion of what was due. Francine's hand popped suddenly into view.

Instead of the receipt, the girl produced a gun. She pointed the small caliber revolver straight for Bradthaw. In quick tones Francine ordered:

"Raise your hands, Mr. Bradthaw! Don't make a move! That applies to your fellow criminals. One move from them, I shall shoot you dead!"

FRANCINE'S threat carried real weight. Bradthaw knew how valiantly the girl had battled crooks at her apartment. His hands came upward.

The moment that they rose, Strampf and Caudrey were left powerless. They depended entirely upon Bradthaw. Neither dared make a move while their chief was in danger.

Despite his startlement, Bradthaw was crafty. He actually smiled as he faced the muzzle of Francine's gun.

"You are making a terrible mistake!" reasoned the criminal insurance official as convincing as ever. "It is dangerous to draw a gun without provocation. You are nervous, Miss Melrue. If your finger should tighten on that trigger, you might kill me!"

"Which is what you deserve," Francine told him. "Stand where you are! You are more than a thief. You are a murderer!"

Bradthaw's cold eyes became stern.

"The crime of murder will be yours," he declared. "This is a grave mistake, Miss Melrue. I advise you to put away that gun. I am sorry that I am not close enough to take it from you. If only I had the opportunity

-"

As he spoke Bradthaw looked toward George Melrue. The young man caught the significance of the statement that failed to impress Francine. George was close enough; with a quick grab, he seized his sister's gun.

Francine gave a startled gasp. She tried to shout a warning; but Bradthaw was upon her, silencing her cry with a firm-pressed hand.

Before George could understand, Strampf and Caudrey reached him. Strampf snatched Francine's gun from George's fist. Caudrey produced a revolver of his own.

Five seconds later, the heirs were helpless. Strampf had Francine covered. George was facing the muzzle of Caudrey's revolver. Standing back, Bradthaw surveyed the prisoners. His expression was no longer genial, nor was his tone friendly.

Eyes glinting, Bradthaw rasped:

"You have guessed too much! So I shall tell you more. I am the man who sought your wealth, because I insured it for Caudrey! It goes to him; not to you! I have saved myself a payment of three million dollars; and, in return, I acquire a premium of three hundred thousand!"

With that statement, Bradthaw's lips took on an insidious smile. To emphasize his declaration, he added:

"As for The Shadow, he is dead! He died before you ever went to the hiding place that he provided for you. Death will be yours as well! You shall die, because The Shadow is dead!"

Evil triumph marked the finish of Bradthaw's sentence. Black-curtained walls carried the echo of those words:

"The Shadow is dead!"

Marvin Bradthaw liked that echo. He took it as an excellent omen to accompany his decree of doom.

CHAPTER XXII. THE LAW LEARNS

DESPITE the menace that confronted her, Francine Melrue showed no terror. Bravely, the girl met Bradthaw's evil gaze; her chin showed its old determination. Turning away, Francine saw George, hopeless and bewildered.

"Don't worry, George," pleaded the girl. "It was my fault. I was too hasty, that was all."

"If you had only told me more, sis," interjected George, "perhaps I would have understood. I thought that The Shadow -"

George hesitated. But in his words, Francine caught the very inference she wanted. For once, George was showing spunk where it was needed.

"Tell Mr. Bradthaw what you thought, George."

Francine's statement caught Bradthaw's attention. He looked to George for the answer. Francine smiled as she heard her brother say:

"I thought The Shadow was still alive. Perhaps that's something that might hit you, Bradthaw. Maybe you'd make terms, on that basis."

Bradthaw's laugh was raucous.

"You think that you can trick me!" he scoffed. "You tell me that The Shadow still lives -"

"Because he does!"

Francine gave that utterance. It stopped Bradthaw short. Deliberately, Francine continued her statement.

"I saw The Shadow shortly before my last visit to Reddingham's office," declared the girl. "That is why I went there alone to complete the sale. George knew that there was danger, because I had told him. That is why I had George stay away. He might have shown that he was worried."

Strampf suddenly injected himself into the conversation. He eyed Francine over the top of his revolver; then spoke to Bradthaw.

"The girl lies!" announced Strampf. "The Shadow is dead. She is trying to bluff us."

Strampf's mania for accuracy made it impossible for him to reject any supposition that he had once accepted as a fact. The man's brain worked along grooves. Bradthaw's thoughts were different. The master-crook was impressed by the firmness of Francine's statement.

"I shall handle this, Strampf," returned Bradthaw. Then to Francine: "Since The Shadow still lives, why did he fail you?"

There was a ring of irony in Bradthaw's tone. It did not faze Francine. The girl's reply was crisp.

"The Shadow never failed us," declared Francine. "He remained on constant guard near our hiding place.

I saw him on several occasions; the last time was early this morning. Before I wrote the letter to Mr.

Reddingham."

THIS time Bradthaw saw more than the intensive expression that Francine wore. The supercrook observed George's face and the surprised look that came over it.

George was remembering his morning glimpse into the courtyard where a blackened shape had so mysteriously blotted itself from view.

For the first time, George realized that he - like Francine - had seen The Shadow!

Francine's lips took on a smile. The girl was more confident than ever. Bradthaw suddenly understood the reason. His fists clenched; for the first time he showed excitement. Savagely, he expressed himself to Strampf and Caudrey.

"The Shadow dictated that letter!" exclaimed Bradthaw. "He ordered Francine to send it to Reddingham to trick us! Don't you see his game? He wanted us concentrated here while he went to rescue his agents!

He failed in that as we know; but The Shadow may still be alive!

"The Shadow gave us bait - that idea of a message from WNX. So we would bring these people here" -

Bradthaw gestured toward Francine and George - "and lay our cards on the table. We thought The Shadow dead: he kept up the pretense, to deceive us. The Shadow may arrive here at any moment!"

The words jolted Strampf and Caudrey. They saw the smile that Francine still retained. They heard the girl's calm words spoken in full confidence.

"The Shadow is already here," declared Francine. "He told me the interval that he would require. I assured him that I could delay events that long. The Shadow is waiting" - Francine turned to point to the entrance - "outside that very door!"

INSTINCTIVELY, Strampf and Caudrey aimed their weapons in the direction that Francine pointed.

Bradthaw looked toward the door; suddenly he wheeled full about, reaching for a gun of his own. He had caught a sudden inkling of Francine's trick.

It was lucky for Bradthaw that he swung at that instant. A weird laugh filled the sanctum, a mocking tone that belonged within those shrouding walls. Black curtains hollowed the mirth; made its exact location a mystery.

To Strampf and Caudrey, the taunt seemed all about them. It left them bewildered, staring at the outer door.

Only Bradthaw saw The Shadow.

The cloaked invader had entered his captured sanctum through the window that he had used before.

Francine's demand for proof regarding The Shadow was a ruse that had worked, exactly as The Shadow wanted it. Keenly, The Shadow had foreseen that Bradthaw would take his conference upstairs to the sanctum.

That had left the insurance magnate's office clear for The Shadow to enter. From Bradthaw's window the cloaked avenger had scaled to the tower room. Behind his own curtains, The Shadow had witnessed the finish of the scene.

Francine had displayed all the skill that The Shadow expected, even to the ruse of diverting attention to the outer door. Strampf and Caudrey were totally off guard, no longer covering the prisoners.

Even Bradthaw's quick recovery did not give him an advantage against The Shadow. Bradthaw was faced by the muzzle of an automatic. To aim with his own gun would mean death. Nevertheless, Bradthaw raised the weapon; and the move brought him his unexpected luck.

While Francine was making a quick dash for a secure corner of the room, George made the worst move possible. Stampeded by sudden fear for The Shadow's safety, he hurled himself upon Bradthaw, hoping to stop a shot that the crook could never have made.

It was the very break that Bradthaw wanted. The gray-haired crook whipped George in front of him as a buffer. Behind that human shield, Bradthaw took aim at The Shadow.

Strampf and Caudrey heard their chief's triumphant shout and wheeled around to aid. The Shadow opened fire not toward Bradthaw, but to cripple the other pair.

Strampf stumbled as a bullet clipped his shoulder. Caudrey flung away his gun and went scrambling toward the wall.

Along with The Shadow's shots came jabs from Bradthaw's gun. The shots were wild for George was struggling hard to prevent them. Three bullets were all that Bradthaw wasted. Seeing their futility, he adopted other tactics.

Keeping George squarely in front of him Bradthaw pressed straight for The Shadow. Half off balance, George could not resist the drive. He was harrying Bradthaw's gun arm; that was all. The service would be useless once Bradthaw came within six feet of The Shadow.

Again The Shadow laughed. His eerie tone rose with a sardonic shiver that brought a scowl from Strampf, a quake from Caudrey. Bradthaw's steely eyes riveted upon the weaving figure in black. The supercrook caught the meaning of that louder gibe.

It was The Shadow's call for more invaders.

The Shadow had rescued his agents!

AS that thought drove home to him, Bradthaw pictured men already on the stairs. He knew that at any moment the door might he ripped open. George Melrue could not serve as a shield against fire from two directions. Bradthaw saw need for other tactics.

The master-crook acted with surprising speed. He gave a twist that carried him away from George to an angle that was clear of The Shadow's aim. With a terrific spring, Bradthaw lunged upon the fighter in black, aiming as he came.

The Shadow took a backward step through the curtains. An instant later, Bradthaw was driving through, blazing with his gun.

The Shadow had whipped aside behind the curtain, intending to flank Bradthaw with a sledged attack, the moment that he arrived. The Shadow wanted the crooked official alive, like Strampf and Caudrey.

In that, The Shadow was scheduled for disappointment. Perhaps Bradthaw himself, would have preferred surrender to death; but he never gained the choice.

The mad impetus of Bradthaw's surge could not be stopped. It had forced The Shadow to a quick side twist to avoid the shots. Wheeling in upon Bradthaw, The Shadow started a back-hand gun stroke as the crook came through. The Shadow's gun muzzle whipped the curtains; that brush delayed the swing long enough to produce an unexpected sequel.

Every ounce of strength was behind Bradthaw's drive, for the murderous villain expected to grip The Shadow. Instead, Bradthaw found vacancy in the space behind the curtains.

As he escaped the slowed gun slash, Bradthaw plunged headlong against the loosely closed window shutters that he thought were solid wall.

Those barriers gave outward. Bradthaw's knees hit the low sill. He took a long head-first pitch out through the window. Even The Shadow's quick swoop was too late to halt that dive. Bradthaw's feet delivered a jerky upward kick that broke The Shadow's last instant grasp.

A screech trailed upward as Bradthaw's body fell. From the window, The Shadow saw the twisting form diminishing in its long drop to the street. Bradthaw glanced from projecting cornices as he fell; each jolt threw him farther outward. His course was like a series of increasing trounces down a mammoth flight of steps.

Near the bottom Bradthaw, spread-eagled downward, so far below that his size seemed toylike. That last long sprawl carried him to the center of the street, where he flattened, a pitiful blob upon the paving.

Bradthaw was dead before he took that final smash. No human frame could have stood the buffeting that the master-crook received along his forty-story bounce.

TINY cars were stopping in the street. Like beetles, people were approaching Bradthaw's body. They knew that something must have happened up above. The law would arrive soon.

The Shadow stepped back into his sanctum. Others were there, for Bradthaw had been right when he took The Shadow's later laugh to be a signal.

Harry and Cliff had charge of Strampf and Caudrey. Other agents were in the background: Hawkeye, Tapper and Jericho.

The Shadow spoke to Francine. She beckoned to George, who came crawling from a corner beside The Shadow's filing cabinet. The two went down the stairs.

Holding two guns, The Shadow pressed their muzzles against Strampf and Caudrey. In sinister whisper, he ordered the prisoners to follow.

The agents remained above.

In Bradthaw's office, The Shadow stood in silent judgment while Strampf and Caudrey coughed confessions. Bradthaw's death had broken Strampf. Caudrey's shrewdness was tinged with a yellow streak that displayed itself when the rogue was cornered.

All the while, there were hurried sounds from the tower stairs, along with muffled clangs at the door of the freight elevator. Later came silence; at last, a sound from an outer office. The law had arrived.

The Shadow waited no longer. With a whispered laugh, he turned and took the doorway toward the freight elevator.

Strampf started to show defiance; he halted as he saw The Shadow's gun muzzle poke back into view.

Strampf subsided. An instant later The Shadow was gone.

The front door of the office yanked open. In strode Joe Cardona, followed by a squad.

THE story that Cardona heard was the most amazing one that had ever reached his ears. Strampf and Caudrey repeated their confessions, prompted by Francine who checked every detail that they had given The Shadow.

With those confessions lay proof. Caudrey's insurance policy was on the desk; he had put it there at The Shadow's order. Strampf's latest report sheets were also waiting for the law.

Already incriminated, the cadaverous crook showed the hiding place of Bradthaw's papers that dealt with crime insurance. The entire racket, with all its profits, lay exposed.

In the hallway beside the freight elevator, Cardona found the three million dollars, stacked in the suitcase.

He turned over the wealth to Francine and George. With a grim smile, Cardona looked toward the tower stairs.

Testimony had included mention of The Shadow's sanctum. Cardona wanted to see that black-walled room for himself. He went up the steps two at a time. At the top, Joe stared through the opened doorway.

The tower room was bare. Every vestige of its stolen furnishings had been removed by The Shadow's agents. In the ground-floor garage, they had overpowered waiting thugs. The Shadow's belongings had gone aboard the truck that Strampf had provided to take away the Melrues.

The truck was gone, with its cargo. The Shadow had followed the same route as his agents. He would choose a new spot for his hidden headquarters. The Shadow, like his sanctum had vanished.

THE END