Terror Island

"Yeah?" quizzed Ruff, in surprise. "A bunch of bank workers."

"Sure," acknowledged Hawkeye, with a nod. "We cut loose from Cozy after he pulled that job in Wilmington, North Carolina. It was getting too hot. That's why we was laying low."

"Go get your pals," ordered Ruff.

Hawkeye turned and hastened off, as though heading for the hold. But he changed direction as soon as he was out of sight. Running to the stern, he came upon a boat that was hanging loose from the davits.

"Cliff!" whispered Hawkeye, hoarsely. "Harry!"

The two agents popped into view. They had ducked into a companionway at the sound of Hawkeye's footsteps. Quickly, Hawkeye gave them the news.

"Duck down into the hold," he suggested. "I'll tell Hexler you're coming up."

Returning, Hawkeye found Hexler impatiently awaiting him. Ruff had gone away to confer with the captain. What he was doing was arranging for the Dalmatia to stand by until a cargo came from shore.

"Where are the other guys?" demanded Hexler.

"Coming up," replied Hawkeye. "You'll see 'em in a minute."

THE last of the boxes had come from the hold. Immediately following came Cliff and Harry, up through the open hatchway. They slouched over as Hawkeye beckoned. Hexler studied the new recruits. He had not noticed Harry and Cliff carefully before. Now he nodded, convinced that they would measure up to Ruff's requirements.

Boxes were being lowered into the boats; some into Ruff's cabin launch; others into the boat that the Dalmatia had dropped. Ruff's crew was exchanging greetings with the men in the Dalmatia's boat. These outfits had met before.

Ruff came back from his confab with the captain. He eyed Harry and Cliff, then nodded approvingly to indicate that they were satisfactory.

"We're coming out again," he told Hexler. "Bringing back the boat to the ship here and loading some stuff aboard. We'll arrange all that later. Let's go."

Cargoes were loaded. Hexler motioned to the rope ladder. Harry and Cliff descended; then Hawkeye followed. The little man got snarled in the rope. That seemed to please Ruff.

"That bird's no seaman," chuckled the mob-leader, speaking to Hexler. "You can tell it from the way he tangled. You hit a ten strike, getting these three bimboes. They're just the ones we'll need."

"More work ahead?"

"Plenty. You'll get the dope later."

Ruff leaned over and motioned Hawkeye into the Dalmatia's boat, separating him from Harry and Cliff. Hexler descended, stepped aboard Ruff's boat and shifted over into the other boat as Hawkeye had done. Ruff was the last to come down the ladder.

The two boats pushed off from the heaving side of the Dalmatia. Ruff's boat began to chug toward the island, its motor throttled low. The Dalmatia's boat followed, propelled by the strokes of brawny oarsmen.

Combined crews of crime were on their way to accomplish evil. Timour Isle was threatened with armed invasion as the first step toward a fiendish purpose. But with those invaders were coming men prepared to strive for right.

Though outnumbered by their dangerous companions, The Shadow's agents were grimly prepared to play their part when the time of conflict came.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE ATTACK

THE power boat was the first to meet the lower inlet. Passing the sand dunes, the craft veered toward a channel which Ruff, at the tiller, picked with accuracy. The boat came to a stop with its prow wedged in a muddy landing place.

Ruff ordered all ashore. Harry and Cliff followed the other members of the crew. Ruff led the way through heavy underbrush, while his men brought the boxes from the boat.

Stacking the spoils, Ruff ordered his crew toward the beach. They skirted a sand dune, then waited on a little point. Ruff swung a lantern; an answering glimmer came from the inlet. The boat from the Dalmatia was heaving toward this portion of the shore.

Hexler and his henchmen landed. Ruff ordered his own men to take the boxes that had come from this second boat. The shore crew lugged their burdens off through the darkness, toward the spot where they had left the first load.

Cliff and Harry remained with Hexler's crew. Ruff held confab with Hexler. Nods of agreement were exchanged beneath the dull moonlight. Ruff turned and took the path along which his burden carriers had gone.

HAWKEYE sidled over beside Cliff and Harry. The Shadow's three agents were again united. Yet the situation was not entirely to their liking. Though they exchanged no comments, all held the same idea.

They knew that danger was abroad. Two crews of thugs were ready to deliver an attack somewhere. If Hexler's crew should strike, The Shadow's agents would be in the proper place. But if Ruff's outfit intended trouble on its own, that mob could move unmolested.

One thought alone was saving. Ruff's outfit had a definite task; to store the boxes that had been brought from the Dalmatia. That signified that the criminal work would probably be shifted to Hexler and his outfit. As members of that band, The Shadow's agents might find opportunity to counteract trouble.

There were eight men besides Hexler. Lopey had been left in the boat, which was drawn high on the shore. Thus The Shadow's agents were outnumbered two to one. But such odds did not trouble them. Like the rest of the crew, they were armed. They felt capable of tendering a good account should the pinch arise.

"We're going up the island." Hexler growled this information as he joined his men. "Don't worry about those other fellows. This is our job. We're heading for a house at the upper inlet!"

Harry nudged Cliff. This was the kind of news they had been waiting for. It meant that Hexler, not Ruff, was scheduled to attack some place on Timour Isle.

"The house is in a clearing," continued Hexler. "When we get there, plant yourselves on the edges. Ready for a rush when I give the word."

Affirmative growls from the band. The Shadow's agents joined in the comment. Hexler was about to start the march when a thick voice called from the shore. "Lopey," a trifle unsteady, was coming to rejoin the invaders.

"Get back in the boat!" ordered Hexler, in a rasping tone. "Stay there until we get back!"

"I'm all right," growled Lopey, rubbing his forehead. "The air's got me braced. Comin' in from the ship brought me to. Say, I was groggy -"

"Join up with us then," snapped Hexler, "and keep your trap shut!"

"All right," agreed Lopey. "But listen, Hexler - it wasn't my fault, gettin' plastered that way. There was a guy on the ship -"

"Lay off the chatter," broke in the leader, "or you'll go back in the boat with a cracked konk! Get me?"

"All right," responded Lopey. "But if I get that lousy guy -"

Hexler handed the big fellow a jab in the ribs. Lopey doubled up, regained his footing and trailed in at the rear of the mob.

Hawkeye, up ahead, whispered to Cliff:

"I'm not letting Lopey lamp me. If he wises that I'm with the outfit, he may spill something to Hexler. Lopey thinks I'm with the crew on the Dalmatia."

"I get it," responded Cliff, in an undertone. "Keep ahead of us, Hawkeye. When we get to the house, pick a spot where Lopey won't see you."

OTHER members of the band were closing in. Trudging northward, the complete crew skirted the edges of the forest strip. They straggled into little groups as they marched along. This gave The Shadow's agents a chance for further comment.

"The job is ours," whispered Harry. "This shore outfit is busy storing those boxes. Maybe they'll join us later."

"We'll work quick when we get the chance," put in Cliff. "We don't know what we're going into; but if we can get the jump on Hexler and his bunch, we ought to come through clean."

"Maybe he'll spill more when we get there," added Hawkeye.

Others were overtaking the trio. They trudged along in silence, veering left as the coast line took a slight curve. All was peaceful on this isle, where the steady roar of the surf was lulling in its monotony. Men of crime seemed strangely out of place in the setting.

They were coming close to the upper inlet. Hexler, apparently, had gained complete directions from Ruff; for the leader moved forward to slow his band. He pointed out an opening between the trees. Leading, he took the path toward the house.

Dull lights glimmered from white walls as the invaders reached the clearing. Here Hexler halted the crew and delivered an order for deployment.

"Spread out all around," he instructed. "I'm going up to the house. I'll rap; they'll let me in. There'll be talk at the front door.

"Then I'll come out again. Watch for a move of my left arm. Up and down; That'll mean to close in. Do it in a hurry. But there's one point more. If I start things quick, I'll signal with a shot. That'll mean to rush the place."

A pause. The invaders were ready to spread. Hexler picked out two men from the crew. He called them by name: Jake and "Curry." He pointed toward the house.

"Sneak up there," he ordered, "you two. One on each side of the door. Well out of sight. Then when you get the signal, I'll have the two of you close by."

Jake and Curry sneaked forward across the clearing. Hexler gave a final injunction to the remainder of the band: one that was most important.

"We've got friends inside there," he informed, "so keep your rods steady. Any guy that tries quick shooting will answer to me later. Maybe we won't have to fire a single shot.

"But if there's trouble, use your noodles. Aim for the guys that aim for you. Leave the others alone. That's simple enough. Remember: hold it for the pinch. Not before."

He motioned with his right hand. The invaders spread along the edge of the clearing, Cliff and Harry moving to the right. Hawkeye sneaked past his fellow agents and took a spot on the flank.

Hexler moved cautiously forward. He beckoned to Jake and Curry. They closed in from the wall and listened while their leader whispered the same instructions that he had given to the balance of the mob.

WATCHING, the deployed invaders saw Jake and Curry resume their positions on the sides of the door. Then they watched Hexler walk boldly up to the portal. The leader had his left hand in his pocket. It was plain that he was left-handed, that his hidden fist was gripping a ready revolver.

Harry, between Hawkeye and Cliff, was tense and alert. He knew that his fellow agents were the same. This was the time for which they had been waiting long. They had reached Timour Isle, headquarters of The Shadow.

Yet they had gained no contact with their hidden chief. They knew only that word had gone to him that they were coming. Had The Shadow received that word? Was he ready, waiting, relying on his men? Or had The Shadow encountered danger here alone - had he met with some adversity that had already placed him in the hands of foemen?

The next minutes would tell. To these aids of The Shadow, the immediate future hovered in the form of Hexler's tight fist, raised to tap upon the door. For with Hexler's knock, the tide of invasion would be ready for its surge.

CHAPTER XIX. STROKE AND COUNTER-STROKE

INSIDE the house, Tully and Chunk were still keeping the semblance of weary guard duty. One man was slouching in the hall; the other was standing by a window of the living room.

Purvis Elger was lounging in a chair, smoking his pipe. Jalway was across the room, leaning against the bookcase, while Hadlow was standing at the entrance to the hall, his hands in his coat pockets.

Francine had gone to bed. The tenseness had wearied the girl. That same feeling of uneasiness had extended to the others. Elger was affable; Jalway appeared matter-of-fact; and Hadlow looked calm and unperturbed. Yet every one of the three possessed a peculiar alertness that had not previously been evident.

A knock from the door. Hadlow started, then smiled quietly. Jalway looked curiously toward Elger. The portly crook lowered his meerschaum from his lips and called to Tully.

"Was that a knock at the door?" he inquired.

"Sounded like it," returned Tully.

"Did Royne go out?" inquired Elger.

"No, sir." The reply came from Royne himself as the servant appeared from the hall. "Did you want me, Mr. Elger?"

"There was a knock at the door," - Elger paused as the rap came again - "yes, I was sure of it. Probably someone has come in from the mainland. Suppose you answer it, Royne."

As he spoke, Elger arose from his chair. He walked past Hadlow and joined Royne. Tully was standing with arms akimbo, ready to draw a gun if so commanded.

"All right, Dashler!"

These words came as a sudden order, from the lips of Seth Hadlow. The sailor, who had been at his solitaire on the window ledge, came suddenly to his feet, swinging a revolver with which he covered Chunk, by the inner window.

At the same instant, Hadlow brought his hands from his pockets. In each was a revolver. Stepping to the center of the living room, he held the guns so that they kept a sweeping level upon Elger, Royne and Tully.

"Stand where you are!" ordered Hadlow. "Don't answer that door!"

TRAPPED men obeyed. They were all in the hall - the three whom Hadlow covered - and the sportsman moved leisurely out in their direction. His new step cornered them between himself and the front door. Elger and his henchmen formed an astonished trio, all with their hands half raised.

Bram Jalway remained motionless, his briar pipe poised in his right hand. His position at the bookcase placed him almost in line of Dashler's gun. The sailor was not covering Jalway; but Elger, looking past the corner of the doorway, saw that the promoter was trapped.

Jalway's only part was to play innocent. It was apparent that Hadlow had not included him among the enemies whom the sportsman had so suddenly decided to control.

Elger, master at bluff, began to sputter a protest. Facing Hadlow, he met the sportsman's determined gaze and demanded an explanation.

"What - what is this?" questioned Elger. "Have you gone mad, Hadlow? Are you afraid of enemies outside this house?"

"I am concerned with those within," announced Hadlow, steadily. "You, Elger, and your associates, of whom there are too many. No one is going to answer that door - until I give the word."

He motioned with one gun. The gesture was for Elger and Tully. The two men backed into the living room, toward the corner where Chunk was standing. A louder rapping came from the front door. Hadlow ignored it.

"There has been murder on this isle," denounced Hadlow, in a steady voice. "I have seen evidence of it; and I suspect those responsible. You, Elger, have deliberately attempted to forestall justice. I have suspected you of planning new crime. I have anticipated it."

"This is preposterous!" protested Elger. "What do you say to it, Jalway?"

"It puzzles me," declared Jalway, eyeing Hadlow, who was using one gun to cover the living room, while he kept the other on Royne, at the front door. "Off hand, I would say that our friend Hadlow is deluded; and yet" - he paused to light his pipe - "there may be merit in what he tells us."

Pounding at the front door. Still Hadlow remained firm. He added one more statement to his accusation.

"You are a smug crook, Elger." Hadlow said it in a positive tone. Then, to Jalway: "I would have called upon your aid had you not gone out tonight, Jalway. The only person to whom I could appeal was Professor Marcolm. I told him that I sensed danger.

"He gave me his revolver. This second weapon which I hold. I managed to instruct Dashler to aid me. I was afraid, Jalway, that you would not return. Danger lurks on Timour Isle. But you are here; and I am counting on you to aid me in this emergency. Have you your revolver ready?"

Jalway nodded. He drew the weapon.

"Cover those men in the corner," ordered Hadlow.

JALWAY did so, an even smile upon his lips. He backed toward the front of the room and motioned Dashler to stand beside him. The sailor obeyed. At that moment, Francine came into the hall. The girl gasped as she saw Hadlow with his pointed guns.

"Step into the living room, Francine," ordered Hadlow, promptly. "Stand behind Jalway and Dashler. You will be safe there."

Mechanically the girl obeyed. She had caught only the last of Hadlow's accusations. As yet, she could not grasp the understanding that Purvis Elger was a crook. Jalway motioned Francine to the safety of a corner.

A final, emphatic pounding came from the front door. Hadlow, seeing that Jalway and Dashler held the men in the living room at bay, was ready to concentrate upon this new point. His smile tightened.

"You are the master of this isle, Elger," he commented. "Tully and Chunk are evidently members of your evil band. But there are others. Those who now crave admittance. Let them come. I am ready."

Leveling both revolvers toward Royne at the front door, Hadlow issued a stern command:

"Unbolt the door!"

Royne started to obey, half trembling as he reached for the upper bolt. The grating must have been heard from the other side, for the pounding ceased.

Framed in the door of the living room, Hadlow was concentrated on delivering a surprise to those outside the house. He was not ready for the attack that came from another quarter.

A SWIFT figure came pounding from the hall. A pair of brawny hands caught Hadlow's wrists from behind and tried to wrest the guns from the sportsman's hands. Before Hadlow could manage to twist a weapon free, two others were upon him. Then a fourth.

At the same instant, Jalway performed an unexpected move. Shooting out his left hand, the promoter caught Dashler's wrist and snapped it upward; at the same instant, he jabbed his revolver into the sailor's ribs.

Seth Hadlow had been overpowered by Ruff Turney and his crew. The mob-leader and the shore band had pulled the unexpected. They had come through the passage from the caverns where they had left the swag. Entering through Elger's study, they had been ready to cut off the retreat of any fugitives.

Creeping forward, Ruff had seen Hadlow in the front hall. He had passed the word to his underlings. Their creeping attack had culminated in a perfect finish. Hadlow, disarmed, was in their power. Ruff, rising from the floor, was ready with a revolver, to join an attack on Dashler.

That was unnecessary. Elger, Tully and Chunk had given Jalway aid. Bounding across the room, they had downed Dashler. Tully was rising with the sailor's gun; Chunk was seated on the fellow's chest.

Francine Feldworth had tried to aid Dashler. Seeing Jalway's treachery, she had grabbed at the promoter's arms. But the girl had been too late. Jalway had wrested free from her grasp. His revolver was now pointed in the girl's direction. Francine was subsiding in the corner.

Triumphant, Purvis Elger was standing in the center of the room, his glaring eyes on Seth Hadlow, who sat, dejected in the grip of Ruff Turney's men. Sarcastically, Purvis Elger leered at the helpless sportsman. Then the master crook turned toward the door, where pounding had come anew.

"Open the door, Royne," ordered Elger. "Let us see who our new guest may be."

CHAPTER XX. MEN MARKED FOR DEATH

PURVIS ELGER was back in his living room. Ranged with their chief were Tully, Chunk and Royne. Ruff and his henchmen were in the hall; with them a newcomer. Hexler had entered to take his stand beside the land lieutenant.

Three prisoners were bunched in a corner of the living room. Seth Hadlow pale and dejected, was backed against the wall. With him was Dashler, glum but stolid. The third in the group was Francine Feldworth.

The final occupant of the room was Bram Jalway. Calm and unruffled, the traitor seemed almost neutral in his attitude. He appeared to be waiting for Purvis Elger to speak. Yet he seemed to lack animus toward the prisoners.

"I have been branded as a crook," sneered Elger. "You, my friend" - he was looking straight at Hadlow - "are the one who made the denunciation. Very well. I am a crook.

"I have ruled this island unmolested - until you and your companions appeared. Your presence is a menace to my safety. Therefore, you shall be eliminated. All of you."

"You intend to murder us?" queried Hadlow, in a strained tone.

"I intend to dispose of you," corrected Elger. "This man" - he indicated Hexler - "has come ashore from a ship called the Dalmatia which is anchored off Timour Island. The captain of the Dalmatia is a useful man; but a stupid one.

"He was kind enough to unload smuggled goods tonight; and he used one of his boats to aid in bringing boxes ashore. We are sending the boat back to him. With it, a few heavy boxes that will be of no use to us. Those boxes will be dropped overboard. Miles at sea."

"Our coffins," declared Hadlow, solemnly.

"Precisely," nodded Elger. "And there will be caskets, too, for the corpses that now lie in the construction house out back."

A PAUSE. Elger chuckled, then puffed at his pipe.

"You are a fiend," said Hadlow, slowly. "A murderous fiend. There is no use to cry to you for pity. Dashler and I are willing to receive the death that you offer.

"But you can have no purpose in slaying Francine Feldworth. Let the girl go free. She has not harmed you."

"I can provide for that, Hadlow," put in Jalway. "Tonight, I made a deal with Elger. Francine will be allowed to live. At my request."

"At the request of a traitor?" demanded Francine. The girl's face was scornful. She turned to Hadlow. "Why ask for any mercy from men like these? I would sooner die with you, Seth."

"That would be foolish, Francine," said Hadlow, placing his arm on the girl's shoulder. "I could stand death if I knew that you were safe. I can't believe that Jalway is a traitor. I believe that he was forced into this."

A smile showed on Jalway's lips. Hadlow was aiding his cause. Smugly, Jalway took up the suggestion.

"I had no other alternative, Francine," he declared. "I can assure you of safety. Elger has promised me your life. With one condition only; that you never tell of the events that have occurred here."

"What!" exclaimed Francine. "You expect me to live, carrying such a secret? Knowing that you were a party to the murder of the man" - she looked toward Hadlow - "of the man I loved?"

Hadlow tried to soothe the girl. It was useless. Her denunciation begun, Francine persisted.

"I do not want the life you promise," she told Jalway. "As long as I live - if I should live - I shall seek vengeance for the crimes in which you have had a part. If you let me live, I shall try to denounce you, whenever opportunity comes. I shall have no part in your schemes."

"It is useless, Jalway," remarked Elger, in a tone of feigned sorrow. "The girl will make trouble for us. She must die. With the others."

Jalway looked perturbed. His keen eyes met Francine's in an almost hypnotic stare. But the girl remained steady.

"I can save you, Francine," began Jalway, slowly. "Remember, I can save -"

"Only if you save the others also," broke in the girl. "If Seth Hadlow dies, you will be his murderer."

Jalway remained staring for a moment. Then he turned away. He looked toward Elger and shook his head.

"You are right," he admitted coldly. "It is useless. The girl must die. Call on the executioner."

ELGER turned to Hexler. The brawny man from the boat was merciless in expression. He seemed to have no qualms concerning the slaughter of innocent victims.

"We will bind and gag them here," stated Elger; "then you and your crew can carry them to the lower inlet. Riddle them with bullets among the sand dunes. Make the execution a prompt one.

"Ruff and his men will go back by the route they used to come here. They will bring empty boxes, weighted. Also the bodies from the construction house. Ruff has the key.

"Load the new corpses with the old. Place two competent men aboard the Dalmatia, to see that the boxes are dropped when the ship is well out to sea. We do not want anyone aboard the tramp steamer to learn what the boxes contain."

Elger turned, to deliver an order to Royne. The tall servant departed. His purpose: to get ropes and strips of cloth. Elger had a reason for wanting the victims bound and gagged. He feared that pleas for mercy particularly from Francine - might cause a weakening among Hexler's crew.

The man from the Dalmatia grasped that thought. His lips formed an ugly leer. He nudged his thumb toward the open front door.

"Don't worry about those huskies of mine," he growled. "They'd massacre a whole town if they were paid for it. Ruff tells me you'll want them later."

"I shall," Elger chuckled. He spoke clearly that Francine and the other prisoners might hear. "We have located the yacht Maldah. It is aground in an inlet, twenty miles north.

"Kingdon Feldworth has hidden treasure aboard. New swag, as attractive as that which we have already gained. We are turning pirates, Hexler. Long enough to sink the yacht, after we have gained new spoils."

A cry from Francine. The girl spoke pleading, incoherent words. She was thinking of her uncle's safety. Begging, she manage to gasp to Jalway.

"I shall keep quiet," the girl promised, "even - even if you do slay Seth! If only - if only my uncle can be spared!"

"Our plans are made," declared Elger, coldly, speaking for Jalway. "Your uncle will die like the rest. No one who was aboard the Maldah will survive!"

"Which reminds me of the professor," added Jalway, apparently deaf to Francine's pleas. "He is fond of sleep. By foregoing his coffee, he has managed to slumber through this commotion. Perhaps, Elger, it would be best to eliminate him while he is still in repose. Turn a short sleep into a long one -"

As he spoke, Jalway stepped toward the door. He was almost to the hall when Elger stopped him. Royne had returned with the gags and ropes.

"We'll save the shooting for outside," decided Elger. "Put away your revolver, Jalway" - he motioned toward the gun that the promoter had drawn - "and leave the job to Hexler.

"Ruff - you and one of your men get the professor from his room. Drag him out, and tap that white head of his if he starts to jabber. Make it quick. There is no more time for delay. We must capture the Maldah before dawn."

RUFF nodded. He stepped from the room, with a man behind him. Royne pointed out the professor's door. Jestingly, Ruff tapped. A crackly voice responded.

"Come out a minute, professor," called Ruff, in a disguised tone. "Mr. Elger wants to speak to you."

Ruff stepped back with a grin, holding his revolver at his side. His companion made the same move. Elger, puffing at his meerschaum, was standing in the doorway of the living room, smiling in anticipation of the doomed man's surprise.

The door swung open. But the professor did not appear. Ruff motioned his companion back, so the old man would not see them until he actually reached the hall. All were watching for the stoop-shouldered, white-haired figure. He did not arrive.

Instead, a whirling form swept suddenly into view. A strange, amazing shape that twisted from the room with a rapidity that was astounding. With that surprise arrival came a startling, eerie laugh - a chilling tone that rang out in strident mirth through this house of doom.

A figure in black that swung to a sudden stop. Glaring eyes that burned from beneath the brim of a felt hat. Gloved fists that projected from the folds of a black cloak, with looming automatics unlimbered for prompt action.

Professor Thaddeus Marcolm existed no longer. His guise had been discarded by the occupant of that secluded room. In the professor's place was a master fighter bent on bringing an end to crime.

The Shadow!

CHAPTER XXI. FIGHTERS OF THE NIGHT

LONG had The Shadow delayed this revelation. Well had he timed his plans for battle. Tonight, he had gone out by the window of his room; its bars were as easily removable as those in the living room.

He had seen the lights of the Dalmatia. He had watched the little boat going out to meet it. More than that, he had ventured forth again, to hear the approach of the landing party.

The Shadow had counted on the presence of his agents. Yet he was taking a chance that they were not there. Listening from the door of his room, he had learned enough to know that victims were marked for deaths. Now was the time to save them. He had waited, knowing that he would be summoned.

In his quick arrival, The Shadow gave his enemies no chance to recover from their surprise. Instant death was all that these murderers deserved. The delivery of quick punishment, moreover, was The Shadow's one hope of conquering overwhelming odds.

Automatics roared through the darkened hall. Point-blank, The Shadow downed Ruff and his henchmen as the two were raising their guns. As Purvis Elger dived for cover of the living room, The Shadow loosed another pair of bullets.

These slugs were meant for Ruff's other henchmen. They found their targets. The mobsters swayed, then toppled, losing their revolvers when they fell.

Royne was leaping for The Shadow. The advancing fighter wheeled. He stopped the servant's body as a quick bulwark; he flung the fellow forward just as Hexler fired. The sea lieutenant's bullet clipped the staggering form of Royne. The Shadow's left-hand automatic barked.

Wounded by a quick shot, Hexler went diving through the doorway, out to the safety that his band would bring. The Shadow, leaping over Royne's prostrate form, was in quick pursuit. But he stopped short at the living room.

TULLY and Chunk were driving out to get him. Revolvers barked with hasty aim. Bullets zipped past The Shadow. One shot skimmed the master fighter's shoulder. The automatic roared new fury to the echoes. Tongues of flame were pointers to the hearts of Tully and Chunk. The villains sprawled simultaneously.

Swiftly, from close range, The Shadow had burrowed straight through the startled enemies who had sought to block him. Each pair of foemen had been beaten in quick struggle. Ruff and his companion had gone first. The second brace of mobsters had been clipped while aiming guns at their formidable antagonist.

The interlude with Royne and Hexler had given Tully and Chunk their chance to enter the fray. These men from the mainland had fired. But The Shadow, more accurate than they, remained unscathed save for a trifling flesh wound, while his foemen had come to grief.

In this brief but terrific thrust, The Shadow reached a vital, strategic point; the door to the living room. He had two alternatives: one, to deal with Purvis Elger and Bram Jalway; the other, to follow Hexler. Both were essential to triumph. His problem was which to tackle first.

In his well-calculated drive, The Shadow had counted upon possible aid. Hadlow and Dashler had not yet been bound. Those two could assist in fighting Elger and Jalway.

Outside, there was the chance that agents were along with Hexler's band. The Shadow had counted upon that possibility. But it was plain that the source of greater danger might come from those outside raiders.

Nevertheless, The Shadow, here to save innocent lives, cast caution aside as he deliberately chose Elger and Jalway as his first adversaries. Those two had been sheltered by the protecting cordon of lesser henchmen - the cohorts whom The Shadow had shattered.

Jalway was covering Hadlow, Dashler and Francine, holding his fire only because he thought the struggle in the hall would be short-lived and in favor of the crooks. But Elger, who had seen The Shadow come from Professor Marcolm's room, was ready in reserve to meet that avenging foe.

As Tully and Chunk sprawled to the floor, Elger gave a maddened shout. Leaping toward the front end of the room, he cried to Jalway for aid. The two were directly in front of the amazed prisoners. Should The Shadow fire wild, his shots would strike the persons whom he had come to aid.

Jalway swung at Elger's cry. Together, they aimed for the elusive, blackened figure that came whirling from the hall. A chilling, sardonic laugh resounded through the room as The Shadow swung the muzzles of his automatics toward these two fiendish foes.

That laugh was calculated. It made Elger and Jalway forget all but The Shadow. It inspired two other men to prompt and efficient action. Hadlow and Dashler leaped from Francine's side. Hadlow took Elger; Dashler bore down on Jalway.

Gripped by formidable antagonists, the two crooks writhed. The Shadow, seeing the instant success of his ruse, wheeled toward the outer door, ready for the attack of Hexler's mob.

OUTSIDE, waiting attackers had been startled by the suddenness of the conflict in the house. Hexler's henchmen, lulled by the interval that had followed their leader's entrance, were totally bewildered by the unexpected outburst.

Shots were the emergency signal. Yet the mob had remained latent during the opening moments of the fray. It was not until Hexler came staggering from the doorway that they decided upon action.

Roaring like a wounded bull, Hexler had swung about the moment that he was in the clearing. Free from The Shadow's fire, he turned and began to pump hot lead back into the empty hall.

As he blazed with his revolver, using his good left hand, the lieutenant shouted for the charge.

Jake and Curry sprang from their positions beside the door, ready to join with their leader when he drove to the new attack. At the same instant, seven men from the edge of the clearing came leaping into view.

Shots burst from ready guns; Cliff, Harry and Hawkeye were firing toward the house. A bullet sizzed by Hexler's ear. Wheeling, the lieutenant saw Hawkeye pausing to take aim. Hexler roared a command.

Curry, too, had barely escaped a long-range shot. He swung about, with a cry to Jake. The three men coming from the other side of the clearing stopped short to aim at The Shadow's agents.

Cliff shouted to his companions. The three dropped flat upon the edge of the clearing. Cliff swung his gun across to deal with the reserves. Harry and Hawkeye did likewise. It was a well-timed move.

For Cliff knew that The Shadow would be coming from the beleaguered house. With Hexler, Jake and Curry turned about, the cloaked fighter would get the trio unaware. The danger lay from the four advancers across the clearing. Those men, if unhindered, would come up to find The Shadow as a target, should the black-garbed warrior appear.

It was a reverse of the expected. A clipping of the reserves. A dependence upon The Shadow, to which all his agents were trained. But Hexler, having fled from the formidable foe, understood the move the moment that The Shadow's agents quit their shooting toward the house.

He and the two beside him were at long range from The Shadow's agents. Counting upon that, Hexler snapped a command to Jake and Curry. With his cry, Hexler went hurtling squarely into the open house door, his two men at his heels.

"Get them!" barked Cliff, to Harry and Hawkeye.

THE SHADOW'S agents came to their feet. They forgot the men across the clearing. Two of those reserves had toppled to the ground. A third, wounded, was aiming unsteadily. The fourth, not yet clipped by The Shadow's agents, opened a wild fire. A chance shot dropped Hawkeye. The little man fell wounded, a bullet in the thigh.

Shots from within the house, The Shadow had swung from the living room at the crucial moment. His automatics loosed their thunder straight against the three men who were making a massed attack: Hexler, Jake and Curry.

Hexler uttered a hoarse cry as he sought to fire. Then the big rogue shot forward on the floor, striking squarely on head and shoulders. His revolver went clattering to The Shadow's feet. Jake and Curry stopped short, aiming.

Hexler's plunge had cleared the way. Straight came The Shadow's shots. Tongues of flame, bursting from the blackness of a shifty, wavering figure that bobbed elusively as puny revolver shots barked in return.

Jake tottered. Curry staggered back, wounded, then dived for the door, momentarily protected by Jake's wavering body. The Shadow came sweeping forward. Jake, slumping, snarled and aimed point-blank for the swift shape that was bearing down upon him.

The Shadow's left arm swung. Automatic drove hard against revolver. Jake's weapon clattered from his trigger-squeezing grasp. It cracked against the wall before the man could fire. Weaponless, the dying thug sank to the floor. The Shadow's shots had been mortal ones.

Curry was vicious as he hurtled from the house. In flight, he thought of other foes. Leaping from the door, he aimed straight for two figures that he saw beneath the clearing moonlight - those of Harry and Cliff.

Harry had swung to the left, because of Hawkeye's fall. But Cliff was aiming for the door. Shots roared through the clearing. Quick, rapid fire, accompanied by sizzling slugs that whistled from flaming gun muzzles.

Cliff and Harry were the focal point of a simultaneous attack that came from separate angles. Curry, like the man across the clearing, was aiming to kill. But these rogues were dealing with capable marksmen.

Curry toppled with a groan, as Cliff clipped him with a timely shot. An instant later - before Cliff could turn to aid - Harry delivered a perfect shot toward the crook across the clearing.

The ruffian twisted about, went rolling crazily upon the sward. Echoes rattled back from the tabby walls of the look-out house. Then came silence. The Shadow, his form grotesque in the moonlight by the front door, had arrived to see his agents triumph.

Cliff and Harry turned to Hawkeye. They raised the wounded man; as they did, Hawkeye's gun came up in his right hand. With a sharp cry, the little fighter aimed across the clearing; steadying himself against Cliff's shoulder.

One crook had been wounded over there. He was the fellow who had faltered in his aim. But now he was steady on one knee, pointing a gun straight for the door of the look-out house. He had seen The Shadow. He was aiming to kill.

SHOTS soared from three spots. From the crouching crook; from Hawkeye's spot; from the doorway where The Shadow stood. Those bursts seemed simultaneous; yet fractions of seconds separated them.

The Shadow's shot was first, straight for the gun hand of the aiming crook. It clipped the fellow's knuckle just as his finger pressed the trigger. Diverted, the crook's bullet plastered itself against the tabby wall beside The Shadow's shoulder.

The crook's altered shot was the second and Hawkeye's burst was almost with it. Seeking to save The Shadow, the wounded agent had delivered quick but perfect aim. The crouching crook toppled forward, a bullet through his heart, while his smoking gun dropped from his broken fingers.

An ominous lull came hard upon fleeting echoes. Then from within the house burst the sound of another gun. Elger and Jalway, arch-crooks of the lot, had found a chance to fight. That shot betokened trouble.

Whirling, The Shadow disappeared into the blackness of the hall. Victor against hordes of crime, the master fighter was heading in to deal with the most dangerous of the lot.

CHAPTER XXII. THE LAST STROKE

THE shot that The Shadow had heard had been a random one. It had come from the revolver gripped by Bram Jalway as the crook still writhed in Dashler's grasp. Gun pointed upward, Jalway had found no other target than the ceiling. Yet his shot turned an overwhelming tide.

Seth Hadlow had already subdued Purvis Elger and was holding the portly crook against the wall. But at the sound of Jalway's shot, Hadlow turned instinctively. Elger wrestled free and dived to the floor.

His gun was lying there, where he had dropped it in the struggle. Regaining the weapon, Elger twisted away from Hadlow and made an upward stroke. His gun muzzle delivered a glancing blow to Hadlow's chin. The sportsman went down with a thump.

Dashler, seeing this, made a valiant effort to grab Jalway's gun. It was a mistaken attempt. Jalway, copying Elger's motion in reverse, drove his weapon downward. Dashler's gripping arm partially absorbed the shock; but a glancing stroke struck his skull. The sailor sagged.

Hadlow and Dashler were prey for the crooks. But a spontaneous cry from Francine gave warning to both Elger and Jalway. Staring hopelessly toward the door, the girl had seen a new figure arrive. The Shadow had returned for battle.

Entering, The Shadow had dropped his brace of automatics. He had emptied those weapons in his previous fray. His gloved hands were whipping a new pair of weapons from beneath his cloak.

With Elger and Jalway taking time to fire at the senseless forms of Hadlow and Dashler, The Shadow would have had perfect opportunity to clip the crooks. But Francine's cry had placed him at a disadvantage.

ELGER and Jalway wheeled toward the door as one. Separated by a dozen feet, they offered a dual problem to The Shadow as he yanked his guns to view. Marvelous marksman though he was, the position placed him so that he would have to pick one foe an instant before the other.

Both men were desperate. Both were killers. It might have been an equal choice to an ordinary fighter. But The Shadow, instantaneous in his decision, took immediate preference. His eyes swung to the left, where Elger stood alone. His left-hand automatic flashed its flame.

Elger staggered. He tried to hold his gun; but he failed. The portly crook lost the weapon and went sagging to the floor, clutching his chest, coughing from the mortal wound.

The Shadow's quick gaze had shifted toward Jalway, who had stepped in front of Francine. It was Jalway's position that had made The Shadow allow him the momentary chance to aim. For The Shadow had counted on a break. It came.

Francine, by her cry of gladness, had brought grim menace to The Shadow. But it was that very reaction of the girl that had caused The Shadow to fire first at Elger. He was relying upon Francine's spontaneous promptness. The Shadow had decided well.

As Jalway's finger pressed the trigger for a death shot, Francine was already leaping forward. The girl's frail hands caught at the man's wrist. The effort was sufficient; it diverted Jalway's aim.

A bullet boomed from the crook's gun. The shot went wide by half a dozen inches. It missed the turning form of The Shadow. But Jalway, with a furious oath, leaped to another measure.

Twisting, he grabbed the girl's body with his left arm and swung Francine as a barrier against The Shadow's shot. His revolver leveled, he tried to turn it toward the evasive foe at the doorway.

The Shadow swept into the room, ahead of Jalway's swing. Jalway fired one shot - another - but his turning aim, handicapped by Francine's struggle, was too late on both occasions.

Then, suddenly, The Shadow stopped short. He fired one shot as Jalway, swinging his arm wide, gave him a momentary target. The bullet burned Jalway's forearm. With a cry, the crook let Francine fall away. Still holding his gun, he tried to press the trigger. His shot was never fired.

The room roared with a mingled burst that sounded like an artillery barrage. Cliff and Harry had dashed into the house. They fired simultaneously with The Shadow. Three bullets spun Jalway to the floor. The crook was motionless before the echoes ended.

Purvis Elger, crumpled by the bookcase, was staring with glassy eyes. The arch-crook could not reach his gun. He tried to fume incoherent words; his strength ebbed with the gasps.

Half rising with a final effort, Elger buckled and sprawled dead. His hand clutched at the bookcase as he fell; loosened volumes tumbled and thudded the floor beside the master crook's prone form.

COMPANIONS in crime had received just doom. Bram Jalway, whom The Shadow had suspected of criminal intent aboard the Maldah; Purvis Elger, whom The Shadow had identified as an evil rogue, even before he had met the master of Timour Isle. Above the mantel over the fireplace, burnished bronze reflected the room's light. That gryphon shield would no longer be the symbol of a supercriminal.

From beneath his cloak, The Shadow brought forth a sheet of paper; he let it flutter to the floor, where it fell beside Elger's body. The side that came upward showed the same symbol as the bronze above the fireplace.

The Shadow had returned the piece of evidence that he had acquired on the night when George Dalavan had murdered James Tolwig. That scrap of paper had come from Purvis Elger; The Shadow had given it back to its dead owner.

Seth Hadlow was reviving, with Francine beside him. Dashler, after a momentary sway, was regaining his senses. The Shadow turned to his agents. He gave a hissed order. Cliff and Harry turned about and headed for the front door.

The Shadow glided toward the hallway. For a moment he stood there, barely discernible, blackness against a gloomy background. Then he whirled. The crimson lining of his sable cloak swished momentarily in the glow from the living room.

Then The Shadow, too, was gone, the only token of his parting a hissed, sardonic laugh that left strange, ghoulish echoes quivering through this room where men of crime had died.

CHAPTER XXIII. NEW DAWN

THE pink light of a new day was breaking along the Georgia coast. The stretched expanse of rose-tinted ocean was heaving with long, restless swells. The power of the waves had ended. These heavy rises and falls were but a reminder of the storm that had spent its fury.

The glow from the horizon revealed a small power boat chugging northward, past islands where stretches of sand ended in strips of towering, blackened trees. This was the little cabin boat that Ruff Turney had kept hidden in the swamp below Timour Isle.

Dashler was at the tiller; as the sailor nonchalantly guided the boat, two others talked of events that were past. Seth Hadlow was seated beside Francine Feldworth, while they discussed the episode on Timour Isle.

"The professor gets the credit," acknowledged Hadlow, in a solemn tone. "If it hadn't been for him, we'd be boxed up deep beneath the ocean."

"The captain of that tramp steamer was a dupe," said Francine. "He thought that Purvis Elger intended to get rid of useless curios by dropping them at sea."

"But he didn't stay around to wait," added Hadlow. "He must have hauled up anchor and sailed hours ago. Probably he was afraid that coast guard cutters might be off the shore."

A PAUSE followed. Francine, nestling close to Hadlow, sighed pleasantly as she looked toward the brightening sky. This day was dawning with perfection.

"The professor didn't miss a trick," commented Hadlow. "That case in his room - with the tiara, the fifty thousand dollars and the stenographic evidence. It showed that fellow Dalavan for a crook as bad as the others."

"And the note we found," said Francine. "The one that told us to follow the passage to the caverns; then on to the old slave quarters and the spot where this boat was run ashore. It gave us all we needed."

"Full proof of Elger's crimes; and Jalway was working with the rogue."

"It will enable us to inform the law. Those treasures will be reclaimed intact."

"To go back to their true owners."

Another brief pause; then Hadlow spoke speculatively.

"Who was Professor Marcolm?" he inquired. "Where did your uncle meet him?"

"In New York," replied Francine. "The professor had heard that uncle was going on a cruise. He wanted to come along; to check on charts of the Atlantic coast."

"Those were the things he brought ashore? His maps? I wondered what he had with him?"

"He took his belongings after he saved us from death. He must have had his black attire with them, also those huge guns that he carried."

Hadlow recalled another matter after Francine had spoken. He expressed his recollection.

"The night we landed on Timour Isle," he said, slowly, "I fired blindly with my rifle; and I am sure that Jalway did the same. We were confused; yet we seemed to get results. The reason was that the professor fired also. I remember that his three shots punched in between ours with peculiar precision."

"Do you mean," questioned Francine, "that the professor - or whoever he was - saved us that night?"

"I do," affirmed Hadlow, soberly. "His shots were timed to perfection. He dropped the thug who attacked Dashler. He smashed the bull's-eye lantern. He clipped another enemy, by the fellow's gunfire, which served as a target. In addition, he saved some cartridges while we wasted all of ours."

The power boat was turning. Looking from the side, Hadlow and Francine saw that Dashler was guiding the craft into an inlet. The sailor pointed.

"There's the Maldah," informed Dashler. "Dead ahead. It looks like they're maneuvering her off the bar. We'll be aboard soon."

Coming to their feet, Hadlow and Francine looked over the little cabin. They saw the yacht, white smoke pouring from its funnel.

"There's your uncle on the deck," declared Hadlow. "He has seen us."

"He looks happy," laughed Francine. "And he'll be happier when he learns how fortunate we have been."

"And finds out what he was saved from," added Hadlow. "Those villains on Timour Isle would have made short work of the Maldah."

"But they never got their start," chimed in Dashler, from the stern.

The cabin boat pulled up beside the yacht. Soon the castaways were pouring out their story to Kingdon Feldworth and the captain. The owner turned to the skipper.

"The radio working?" he inquired.

"Just repaired," informed the captain. "And we'll be off this bar in half an hour."

"Send word to the coast guards," ordered Feldworth. "When we're clear, head for Timour Isle. We'll meet the cutters there."

WHILE the reunion and its aftermath were taking place aboard the Maldah, another group of voyagers was faring north from Timour Isle. Their vessel was the small motor boat in which Tully and Chunk had come from the mainland. But their course was not outside the string of islands that fringed the Georgia coast.

The little boat was chugging through an inner channel. Clear of the marshes, it was traveling beneath the shelter of an inner shore. The tiny craft was almost shrouded in a setting that dawn had not yet reached.

Gliding beneath huge overhanging boughs that streamed with beards of Spanish moss, the voyagers were nearing the end of their trip to the mainland. In the center of the boat were Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland; between them, Hawkeye, chipper despite his wound.

Shrouded at the rear of the boat sat a black-cloaked figure, a silent pilot who guided the craft with unerring skill. Picking channels that he did not know, The Shadow had weaved a remarkable course in from Timour Isle.

Far from that isolated spot where he had waged war against crime, The Shadow was bringing his agents to security. From the mainland they could transfer Hawkeye and take him north by train.

The boat had entered the channel of a sluggish creek. Moss hung almost to the surface of the water as The Shadow swung the tiller. The prow dug deep into thick soil. The shrouded pilot had found a landing place.

The motor ceased its throbs. Solemn silence hovered as strange aftermath to the events that had gone before. The howl of the hurricane; the thunder of avenging guns - those sounds seemed part of a far, distant past.

Yet as the boat lingered, with its occupants motionless, there came a manifestation that woke echoes of the past. It was the first utterance from that weird pilot at the stern; the first sound that The Shadow had given since the departure from Timour Isle.

A laugh that quivered from hidden lips. A burst of mockery that rose through the thick air of the sylvan glade. A haunting cry that rose to a fierce crescendo, then broke into a shuddering tone that faded with uncanny suddenness.

Chilling echoes answered The Shadow's triumphant laugh. Phantom tongues gave weird but mirthless reply; then they, too, dwindled into nothingness.

Silence, strange and unfathomable, again clung to this lonely landing place upon the Georgia shore. Crime had been conquered by The Shadow and his aids. New day had led them forth on further quests.

THE END