The visit, however, proved a very brief one.

The tingling of the telephone bell was answered by Allard. He heard a query for Weston and turned the phone over to the commissioner. Weston showed excitement at the news he received.

"An attempted robbery at Henshew's apartment!" exclaimed Weston. "Inspector Cardona had just arrived there. I must go at once! Sorry to leave you, Allard. Perhaps Burke will stay -"

"Burke is a newspaper man," smiled Allard. "He would probably prefer to accompany you, commissioner."

Clyde gave a nod of thanks for Allard's suggestion. He departed with Weston. Kent Allard remained alone in his chair by the window, staring out over the city. His eyes could note the reflection of the darkened pane. He saw the Xincas retire to their quarters, knowing that their master preferred to remain alone.

The whispered tone that came from Allard's lips was one that the Indians had never heard him utter in the jungle. It was like an echo of a strident mirth those same lips had delivered tonight.

The subdued sound was the laugh of The Shadow.

CHAPTER XIX. FACTS FOR THE LAW

THROUGH his penetrative knowledge of Madden Henshew's methods, The Shadow had put a bad crimp in the crime-leader's game. Moreover, The Shadow had gained insight into the plans of Michael Chanbury, the only other person who had been keen enough to suspect Henshew as the man behind robberies and murders.

Tonight, Henshew had received a sheer jolt, through the loss of the gems that had been his chief stock in trade. By lurking at Henshew's until the crook returned, The Shadow had impressed his identity on both Henshew and Shark Meglo.

There could be no doubt in their minds regarding the removal of the jewels. They would figure that those gems, in the possession of The Shadow, were beyond reclaim.

All that Henshew had gained was a temporary breathing spell. By posing as an intended victim who had luckily escaped death, Henshew would be firmly established with the law. Later, under pretext of an extended business trip, Henshew could decamp entirely from New York. In such event, Shark would join him elsewhere.

There remained one opportunity, however, that Henshew would never let pass. The Shadow had left Henshew the chance to launch Shark Meglo into one more crime; a stroke that would lift the total of their secret wealth to a level higher than ever before.

Henshew would go after Chanbury's uncut diamonds.

The move could not come tonight. Henshew was tied up with the law, giving details of the havoc at his apartment. Shark was dodging the police, shaking off trailers while he sought a new hide-out. Crime seemed settled for tonight.

Tomorrow, with full reports at his disposal, The Shadow could prepare against Henshew's last campaign.

Until then, he preferred to play the quiet part of Kent Allard.

Freakish chance sometimes disturbed a waiting game. On this occasion The Shadow could foresee no likely combination of circumstances that would cause trouble before tomorrow. Every one who might figure in later events was present in their proper place. Whatever their purposes, all should stay fixed.

It happened, however, that criss-crossed events were due to produce new tragedy; one wherein The Shadow would not intervene.

AT eleven o'clock, Michael Chanbury was aroused from bed by a servant's raps upon his door. There was a visitor very anxious to see him. The caller was Jim Tyrune.

Chanbury told the servant to take the detective to the portrait room. Donning a dressing gown and slippers, Chanbury joined Tyrune there.

"Why have you come so late?" queried Chanbury. "If you wanted to see me, you should have called earlier. I have been home all evening, with not a thing to do. After I have gone to bed, you arrive."

"I've got big news, Mr. Chanbury," explained Tyrune, breathlessly. "It couldn't wait! There was a robbery at Henshew's apartment - at least, an attempted one!"

"What!" Chanbury came to his feet, behind the desk. "When did that happen, Tyrune?"

"At nine o'clock - just after Henshew got back from Philadelphia. And who do you think pulled the job?

Shark Meglo!"

Chanbury looked incredulous. Tyrune shook his head.

"That ruins our theory," said the dick. "Henshew is on the level. I was down there, after I heard about it.

The place was a wreck! Shark and his outfit just about ruined it. Joe Cardona was there getting the details -"

"Tell me something," inserted Chanbury. "Does Henshew know you came here?"

"I don't think so. I was going to call you on the telephone, but I changed my mind. Too many people there. I thought I'd better run out and see you."

Chanbury seated himself at his desk. He pressed a buzzer to summon a servant. He asked if Miss Merwood had retired; the servant replied that she was reading in the library. Chanbury requested her presence in the portrait room.

While they were waiting, Chanbury told Tyrune that he intended to dictate a statement, and that he wanted careful check on every detail. Tyrune nodded wisely, although he wondered just what new theory Chanbury might have to offer.

Eleanor arrived. She seemed surprised to find Chanbury and Tyrune in conference:

"I didn't know that you would need me this evening, Mr. Chanbury," said the girl. "You weren't here when I came back from town. I only stayed in for dinner. I could have worked tonight."

Chanbury explained that he had not intended to do any work, and had, therefore, retired early. Tyrune's late visit had called for this special session. Noting a calendar on the desk, he began a statement that Eleanor transcribed in shorthand.

"ON the evening of the sixth," declared Chanbury, "James Tyrune entered the apartment of Madden Henshew, in search of evidence regarding the Silsam robbery. He effected entry with a special pass-key, copied from one that he previously examined in the janitor's office. The special key is in our possession, as Exhibit A."

Chanbury raised his hand for a pause. He turned to Tyrune, with the question:

"Is that satisfactory?"

"The facts are," replied Tyrune, "only I don't just know whether I had the right to go there."

"Add this, Eleanor," ordered Chanbury. "Tyrune's action was done at the order of Michael Chanbury."

Eleanor transcribed the statement; Tyrune looked relieved. Chanbury opened a desk drawer, to bring out the labeled pass-key. While he fished for it, he continued:

"Tyrune uncovered settings in the drawer of Henshew's writing desk. He did not, however, find the secret hiding place where Henshew kept his gems."

"Wait a minute, Mr. Chanbury," broke in Tyrune. "The gems weren't at Henshew's at all!"

Chanbury sat astonished: "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Shark didn't make a grab tonight," explained Tyrune. "He raided Henshew's apartment, and shot it all to pieces! Somebody - maybe it was The Shadow - was on his trail, to give him a battle. Half of Shark's crew was left there; but there's nothing gone."

"Who told you that?"

"Henshew. He said he couldn't understand why Shark came there, unless it was a grudge. Henshew swears that he keeps all his gems at his office!"

Chanbury was pounding the desk.

"The fox!" he exclaimed. "I see his big game. Of course, he couldn't let the police see that secret strong box behind the bookcase. It was too much like the place that the law found before."

Tyrune started to say something. Chanbury stopped him with a wave. To Eleanor, he dictated:

"On the same night, the sixth, Henshew visited Michael Chanbury, to show him a collection of gems. We have a list of those jewels, personally compiled by Chanbury. Exhibit B."

Forgetting the pass-key, Chanbury produced the list of the gems that he had copied from memory. He handed it to Eleanor, with instructions to type it later. To Tyrune, Chanbury said:

"Henshew will come here again, to inform me privately that the gems were actually stolen from his apartment. He will request me to keep the matter confidential. I shall have to agree, because Henshew could deny that he ever had such items. His word would be as acceptable as mine."

TYRUNE seemed puzzled. He was stroking his pointed chin. Eleanor had taken down Chanbury's statement to the detective; she was about to cross it out, when Chanbury told her to keep it in the record.

He requested that she type it immediately.

"It is very simple," said Chanbury to Tyrune. "Henshew believes that I found out how grossly he undervalued my uncut diamonds. Fearing future trouble, he ordered Shark to fake the apartment robbery for two purposes. First, to make the law regard Henshew as another threatened victim; second, to give me a reason for calling off the jewel sale."

Understanding showed on Tyrune's face. The dick grinned and nodded.

"I get it," he said. "Henshew sure is a fox! But how are you going to tag him, Mr. Chanbury?"

Chanbury sat, meditative. The prospect apparently baffled him; and Tyrune offered no suggestions. Both were pondering when Eleanor returned, bringing the typed statement and the copied list.

Chanbury signed the statement; Tyrune added his signature. Eleanor applied her name as witness, at Chanbury's suggestion.

"Let me think this over, Tyrune," decided Chanbury. "Of course, we must turn these facts over to the law. It would be better, though, if we had a plan before we called in Cardona."

"You're right," agreed Tyrune. "Otherwise, he'll want to know why we mooched in on the case without putting him wise. Maybe I'd better call Joe and break the news to him."

"A good idea!"

Chanbury folded the signed statement and the list. He placed them in an envelope, stating that he would add the pass-key later. Walking to the door with Tyrune, Chanbury suggested:

"Call me when you get home. I shall wait up to hear from you. By thinking it over, I may have some idea for a plan, if you have not struck upon one. We must put the whole story frankly when we give it to Cardona."

They were at the front door. To Eleanor, Chanbury said: "That will be all. And remember: this is confidential. You must not mention it to any one; particularly, not to that reporter, Burke. When the time comes for him to know these facts, he will receive them from Inspector Cardona."

RIDING home in a bouncy taxi, Jim Tyrune kept muttering to himself, as he tried to solve the problem that Chanbury had presented. There were lots of angles to that robbery at Henshew's. The sooner Cardona knew them the better.

What Tyrune was looking for was some idea of his own, to add to whatever new suggestions Chanbury might offer. Tyrune solved the riddle to his own satisfaction, while the cab was rolling smoothly across an East River bridge.

The twinkling bridge lights showed the wise, pleased grin that registered upon the private detective's face.

Yes, he had it just as he wanted it. Once home he would call Chanbury; then Cardona. Only it would be up to Joe to give Tyrune full credit when the crooks were bagged.

Jim Tyrune was headed for the greatest event that had ever occurred in his drab career; one that would splash his name in heavy headlines. Not often in a lifetime did a fellow have a chance to crash the front pages. Once he hit the headlines, Jim figured, it would be easy to repeat.

That part of Tyrune's guess was wrong. His name was destined to crash the news much sooner than he thought; but after that, never again.

CHAPTER XX. MIDNIGHT MURDER

IT was past midnight when Joe Cardona received a telephone call at headquarters. Joe thought it was a routine call reporting more unsuccessful efforts at tracking Shark Meglo.

Why detectives called up to say that they hadn't found Shark, was a mystery to Cardona. He was willing to bet that if they did find Shark, Joe wouldn't know it until he read the next day's newspapers.

A dignified voice responded to Joe's gruff hello. The ace recognized the tone of Michael Chanbury. He heard the art collector inquire:

"Has Tyrune called you?"

"Jim Tyrune?" returned Cardona. "No. I saw him tonight about ten o'clock at Henshew's apartment.

There was an attempted robbery there -"

"So Tyrune told me. He was here at eleven, and left at half past. He was to call me by midnight. Do you know where I can reach him? The only number that I have is his office."

Cardona didn't know where Tyrune lived. Jim had a habit of living at hotels when he had money; at rooming houses when his finances were low. Cardona offered to have some one dig up the information regarding Tyrune's present residence. That relieved Chanbury somewhat, but he had another request:

"Could you come out here, inspector, in the meantime?"

Cardona decided that he could. He promised to start at once. As he left the office, Joe had a distinct idea that something was up. His hunch was that it involved Shark Meglo.

Cardona made speed to Chanbury's. In the portrait room he found Chanbury in a dressing gown.

Eleanor joined them. A servant had awakened her at Chanbury's order.

Chanbury produced the statement, together with the labeled pass-key and the list of gems. Joe read the signed statement and sat dumfounded. He heard Chanbury say:

"I suspected Henshew, the night that he was here. Since he mentioned gems, I asked him to bring some.

It was a good opportunity to have Tyrune search Henshew's apartment!"

"That's all right," assured Cardona. "But what can we prove against Henshew? It's a cinch he shoved the gems to Shark."

"There must be a hiding place in the apartment. It might be behind the bookcase like the one you found elsewhere."

"Henshew would call that a coincidence. It's too bad he got scared; we could only have seen the gems when he brought them here!"

Chanbury added his regret over the lost opportunity. He told Cardona that the side spaces of the room hid a pair of old alcoves that were walled over.

"They would be ideal to watch from," declared Chanbury. "But Henshew will never bring those jewels here again. I can tell you exactly why."

CHANBURY produced the uncut diamonds in their chamois bag. He opened the top, let Joe see the contents.

"Henshew valued these at half," explained Chanbury. "He wanted to take them for the gems. Today I called him, offering cash instead. He must have decided that I suspected he was crooked."

"He must have been plenty scared," remarked Cardona. "You were giving him a chance to pick up cash, with the diamonds besides."

"That's so!" exclaimed Chanbury. "Henshew should prefer cash. When Shark came, as at Silsam's, he could take jewels and diamonds both. It never occurred to me, Cardona. Wait!"

Chanbury weighed the bag of gems. His blunt face showed a tight smile. His keen eyes narrowed. Slowly deliberately Chanbury stated:

"Henshew will come here to tell me that his gems were really stolen. He thinks that I shall be completely bluffed when I read of Shark's fake raid. Henshew will have a purpose in his visit. One that will bring Shark Meglo, also."

Holding his left palm upward, Chanbury poured the uncut diamonds with his right hand. Like shimmering nuggets, the rough stones formed a pile that supported Chanbury's theory.

"Henshew wants these," affirmed Chanbury. "He will risk nothing, being here when Shark attacks. Shark, having attacked Henshew once - so far as the law supposes - would be likely to trail wherever Henshew goes."

Cardona looked grimly at the side walls. He saw how this room could be turned into a perfect snare to bag both Henshew and Shark. With an approving look at Chanbury, Joe decided:

"We can spring it. You have the nerve that's needed, Mr. Chanbury. If you handle Henshew right, he'll talk too much, thinking you're here alone. Wait while I call Commissioner Weston."

Before Cardona could pick up the telephone, its bell rang. Chanbury answered, remarking to Joe:

"Tyrune probably." Instead, the call was one from headquarters. Joe took it. His face was serious when he replaced the telephone.

"They've found out where Tyrune lives," informed Cardona, "but he isn't there. You don't think he'd have been fool enough to go to Henshew's?"

"I don't know." Chanbury's tone was doubtful. He turned about. "What would you say, Eleanor?"

"If he had intended to go there," replied the girl, "he would have asked for the pass-key."

The argument was a sound one. It brought an admiring look from Cardona. He decided to have Eleanor here with Chanbury, when Henshew came tomorrow night. The girl had sense; and her presence would lull the crook. For the present, though, Tyrune was the question.

"We'd better run over to Jim's," said Cardona. "He'll be there by the time we are. We'll take him down to the commissioner's."

CARDONA pocketed the statement and the exhibits. Chanbury went upstairs to dress. He met Cardona at the front door; Joe said that he had called Weston's, but the commissioner was out. Cardona had left word where they would be.

They rode into Manhattan in one of Chanbury's large cars, with a chauffeur at the wheel. They found Tyrune's boarding house on an obscure street. It look a long while to arouse the irate landlady. Her indignation only increased when she saw Cardona's badge.

"Why should the likes of you be rousing up innocent people?" she inquired. "First, it's the telephone. Then you come here, disbelieving me when I tell you Mr. Tyrune ain't come home. Go up to his room and see for yourselves!"

Tyrune's door was locked. Cardona handled it with a skeleton key. The room was empty; the bed made up.

"Hasn't been here," said Cardona to Chanbury. Then, to the landlady: "Where's the telephone?"

"In the back hall, downstairs. A pay phone."

Cardona found the telephone in back of the stairs. In the dark, he missed the slot and his nickel fell to the floor. While Chanbury was out in the light, looking for change, Joe used a flashlight to find the coin. He was in a hurry to make a call to headquarters, on the chance that Tyrune had telephoned there.

Joe saw something dark at the edge of a closet door. It was too large for a coin. He fixed the flashlight on the spot. The stain was wet and ruddy. Cardona grabbed Chanbury's arm:

"Look!"

Chanbury saw the spot. His coins jingled as he dropped them mechanically in his pocket. Cardona pulled open the closed door. Out tumbled a body that seemed to uncoil as it sprawled face upward in the light.

"Jim Tyrune! Dead!"

Cardona was right. The dick was shot through the temple; and the gun that had killed him lay beside the body.

Telling Chanbury to stay where he was and ward off the landlady, Cardona went back through the dark hall. He found a flimsy back door; it was locked, but it had no key. That door could be opened easily with a skeleton.

THIRTY minutes later, a conference was under way in Tyrune's bedroom. Commissioner Weston had arrived; he was talking things over with Cardona and Chanbury. On a table lay one more clue to go with the gun that had lain beside Tyrune's body. The new evidence was a slitted bandanna handkerchief.

"Shark Meglo always wore one of these," declared Cardona, lifting the bandanna. "He must have used it when he sneaked in here to lay for Tyrune. Henshew saw Jim down at the apartment, and was leery of the way he slid out so soon. The fox shot word to Shark."

Joe picked up the gun.

"No prints," he said. "Shark wiped them off with the bandanna. He's a killer, but he's clumsy. He wanted to make it look like suicide, but he was dumb enough to stow that bandanna in the ash can, out back."

Weston shook his head.

"I guess this spoils our surprise for Henshew," declared the commissioner. "Henshew will back out, when he reads how boldly Shark murdered Tyrune."

Weston was rising. Chanbury stopped him. The grizzled art collector showed a look of inspiration.

"Why not call it suicide?" questioned Chanbury. "Shark was smart enough to think he managed to deceive us. Henshew will believe that Shark actually did handle it cleverly."

"Great!" approved Cardona. "The best idea yet! What do you say, commissioner?"

"Very, very good," approved Weston. He thrust out his hand. "Congratulations Chanbury! Your foresight assures me that tomorrow's plan will work to perfection. Just one thing" - Weston turned to Cardona:

"You must see to it that Burke does not learn about it. He is downstairs."

CLYDE was in the lower hall, when Weston and Chanbury went through. Before Clyde could follow, Cardona stopped him. Joe led the reporter back to the rear hall, where Tyrune's body still lay. Joe gave a thumb jerk as he shook his head.

"A suicide," said Cardona, sorrowfully. "Too bad! Poor Jim was a good guy. Just thought he was a failure because he flopped on that jewel robbery investigation."

"What about the note he left?" queried Clyde. "I suppose you found one up in his room?"

"No. There wasn't any note. Jim just said he felt like ending it all. He told it to Mr. Chanbury."

"Can I use Chanbury's name in the story?"

"Sure! Go ahead."

Cardona smiled as he turned away.

That was a neat touch - getting Chanbury mentioned. It would be just the sort of stuff for Henshew to read in the newspapers. Strolling out the door, Cardona was highly pleased with the way he had handled Clyde.

Joe was sure that Clyde had not seen the smile; and in that, Cardona was right. What Clyde did see was the corner of a blue bandanna handkerchief poking out of Cardona's coat pocket.

When Clyde called Burbank, he mentioned that detail. But he did not include it in the story that he wrote for the Classic. The fact that Cardona had gone in for blue bandannas was an exclusive piece of information, intended only for The Shadow.

CHAPTER XXI. MOVES AT DUSK

THE thwarted robbery at Henshew's made big news the next morning, for it involved Shark Meglo, Manhattan's chief public enemy. The newspapers had it all wrong, thanks to the excitement of the persons who had hunted Shark.

It was Shark who had staged the running fight through the apartment house; that, at least, was the opinion of those present. The proof lay in the fact that after the roving battler had disappeared on the second floor, Shark made his break through the lobby. He was credited with doubling his trail, to make a bold escape.

Henshew had prompted that theory, by giving the coolest testimony of any. He swore that he had seen Shark shoving a man ahead of him, to make a pretense of surrender; that both had entered the fray afterward.

Henshew's shout, as he described it, was: "Get the man in back!" and the story was so good that other witnesses supported it.

Evening newspapers played second fiddle to the morning sheets by reporting the tragic aftermath of Shark's raid. They had a good human-interest story in the suicide of Jim Tyrune.

The private dick, it seemed, had taken the man hunt as his own crusade, ever since Shark's murder of Silsam. Jim's failure to anticipate Shark's latest raid had caused the private detective to consider life no longer worth while.

Henshew digested that chunk of news along with his lunch. He was most pleased to learn that Tyrune had visited Chanbury, to voice his morbid sentiments. Henshew remembered Jim at the apartment; the fellow had certainly looked gloomy.

At the office, Henshew found that Chanbury had telephoned. He called the art collector, and heard Chanbury's sad comments on the Tyrune tragedy. Changing the subject, Chanbury asked if Henshew could call at nine that evening. The jewel broker agreed.

Chanbury mentioned that he was dining with the police commissioner, to give a word-for-word statement of Tyrune's glum talk; but he would be home by nine.

Hanging up, Henshew had a definite hunch that Shark had bumped Jim Tyrune. Shark had picked the right man at the right time and place.

Deciding not to return to his apartment after work, Henshew used the privacy of his office to engrave a microscopic message on a coin to Shark. It read:

Chanbury. Side door. 9:30 unless -

Shark would know what "unless" meant.

LATER that afternoon, Clyde Burke called Chanbury's. Eleanor answered; since Chanbury was present, she said very little, except to inform the reporter that Chanbury was dining with Weston at the Cobalt Club and intended to be there by five o'clock. She added - at her employer's suggestion - that the dinner was to be private.

When Clyde called the house at five, he learned that Chanbury had left for town and had taken his secretary with him. That apparently blocked Clyde's chance for a talk with Eleanor. Clyde, however, was to have his opportunity later, under the best of auspices.

At quarter of six, Chanbury told Eleanor that she could go back to the Long Island mansion, and have her dinner there. He instructed his chauffeur, Klander to take Miss Merwood straight to the house; and added that no one was to know she had returned. Servants were still to answer calls.

The big car hadn't gone two blocks before a rear tire flattened. As Klander stepped out to look over the tire, a taxi wheeled up. The driver pointed out a convenient garage and suggested that the chauffeur have the mechanics change the tire. He also suggested that the lady travel by cab.

Since Eleanor was due on Long Island, Klander agreed.

Clouded skies had brought an early dusk; Eleanor could scarcely see the interior of the cab when she entered it. She was amazed, almost terrified, when the cab swung a corner; for a light showed that she was not alone.

On each side of her were solemn-faced passengers who looked like grotesque statues. The taxi driver must have heard Eleanor's gasp, for he thrust his head into view and spoke:

"It's all right, lady! Just a couple of Indians. A friend of yours sent 'em for a gag."

The cab was Moe's; its occupants, the Xincas who had come from Guatemala with Kent Allard. The presence of the stolid, silent Indians evoked Eleanor's wonderment and seemed to make objection impossible. Eleanor might have insisted on leaving the cab, had she not been in awe of those stony-faced sentinels.

Moe drove to Allard's hotel. He opened the cab door and Eleanor alighted with the two Xincas. She went into the hotel between them and they entered an elevator. The adventure was so uncanny that the girl decided to see its finish, particularly since no one in the hotel seemed surprised to see the Indians.

They reached Allard's apartment; there, Eleanor gave a happy exclamation when she saw Clyde awaiting here.

"So it was you!" she exclaimed. "But I'm not supposed to see you, Mr. Burke!"

"You're not seeing me," inserted Clyde. "You're meeting Kent Allard, the famous explorer! A friend of mine."

CLYDE introduced Eleanor to Allard and the girl was immediately impressed by the famous personage.

What Clyde did not explain was that he had arranged this visit at The Shadow's order.

Clyde had told Allard that he wanted to see Eleanor and had asked if the meeting could be here. The explorer had agreed; and had suggested sending the Xincas in a cab. Clyde thought that a grand idea, for Moe's cab was outside.

In a way, The Shadow had tried the plan as a test. He wanted to note if Clyde connected him, in any way, with The Shadow. Such a link had obviously not occurred to the reporter. Nor was it to strike Clyde later, despite the amazing thing that occurred.

Speaking for Clyde, Allard remarked that the reporter wanted some facts on the Tyrune suicide, which Clyde had mentioned. Before Clyde realized it, Eleanor's reluctance had gone. She was telling Allard everything she knew. Meeting the compelling gaze of these clear, steady eyes, the girl felt that she was talking to a friend.

Clyde listened, dumfounded, drinking in the whole story of tonight's plan. When Eleanor had finished, Allard asked questions; the girl answered.

She told how Chanbury had retired early, to be awakened by Tyrune's arrival. She repeated the signed statement, word for word; and described the detailed list that she had copied, to the exact number of jewels mentioned.

She told of the pass-key that Cardona had received along with the statement and the list. She added details of the discussion concerning a probable hiding place behind Henshew's bookcase.

Her final sentences concerned the plans for tonight.

"Henshew will arrive at nine," declared the girl. "I am to be there with Mr. Chanbury. The police will be waiting in the alcoves, looking through the side portraits."

"How large are the spaces?"

"Large enough to hold three persons each, so Mr. Chanbury says."

"You have never seen them?"

"No. They were permanently closed; but the servants are fitting hinges on them this afternoon."

"When will the detectives arrive?"

"Before eight o'clock. With Inspector Cardona in charge. They will stay in the portrait room."

Allard had a few more questions. When he had finished, he smiled. Glancing at his watch, he remarked to Clyde:

"Miss Merwood has been here twelve minutes. Perhaps she should be leaving for Long Island."

TWELVE minutes! In that time, Eleanor had related details that should ordinarily have taken half an hour.

Clyde was half dazed as he rode down in the elevator to see Eleanor off in Moe's cab. He remembered one important detail, and stopped in the lobby to mention it.

"You may meet someone tonight," said Clyde, in an undertone, "who will help matters a great deal. I can't tell you any more, except that he is a remarkable person -"

"More remarkable than Mr. Allard?"

"Yes." Clyde spoke without hesitation. "That may be a tall order, but it's so. He's called The Shadow, and I have an idea that he is in this case. Whatever he says, do it."

Eleanor smiled. She could not doubt that she would follow any orders that came from a person so unusual as Kent Allard. What she did doubt was that she could possibly meet any one else so remarkable.

Her disbelief ended five minutes after she was in Moe's cab.

A voice spoke from the darkness beside her. Eleanor turned to meet the gaze of piercing eyes. They burned, those eyes, like living coals; but Eleanor felt no fear. She heard the sibilant whisper of a voice that carried weird authority. The final words held conclusive importance:

"Be ready at half past seven! Signal at the side door when the way to the portrait room is clear!"

What was the identity of this stranger, who - as Clyde had said - was more remarkable than Allard?

Allard's eyes, thought Eleanor, were the sort that brought a sense of trust and friendship. But these burning eyes, the only token of an otherwise invisible being, carried even more.

They made her trust the stranger, as she had trusted Allard; but she could sense that those eyes would prove terrible to any person who defied this unseen being.

The ride to Long Island was finished in a breath-taking period, for the cab driver had the speed of a jehu.

As they wheeled into the lights of the portico that covered Chanbury's driveway, Eleanor settled back, glad that the trip was over. She had hardly gathered her breath before she thought of the stranger beside her.

She looked. He was gone!

COMPLETE darkness shrouded that Long Island mansion, during the next hour. Cloaked by the blackness, The Shadow moved about the outside walls. His tiny flashlight showed him the extensions that had once been the alcoves of Chanbury's low-set portrait room.

He moved from one side of the house to the other, past a sloping roof at the back. His inspection completed, The Shadow reached the side door.

He was there at half past seven. Five minutes passed before Eleanor stopped in the inner hallway, to indicate that the way was clear. The Shadow entered; thanks to the swift silence of his glide, he was at the marble stairs before one of Chanbury's servants came along. The hired help was keeping close vigil inside the house, until the detectives arrived.

Eleanor was in the portrait room. She had gone there because she could not linger in the hallway. The girl was about to leave, when she saw the door move inward. Fascinated, she watched a streak of blackness form a silhouette along the floor.

A moment later, a cloaked figure had entered. For the first time, Eleanor saw the full outline of The Shadow. The slouch hat hid his face; but the darkness that it cast was like a background for the burning eyes that Eleanor had viewed before.

The Shadow approached. His lips spoke in their steady whisper. The words that Eleanor heard held her breathless. The Shadow had expected to find her in this room, he had reserved final statements until this meeting. What Eleanor heard left her in total amazement. Only the touch of cold steel in her hand awakened her.

The Shadow had given Eleanor a loaded automatic of small caliber. His words told that the gun would be needed.

"You have heard -"

Eleanor nodded at that final statement. Firmly, the girl said:

"I understand. I believe you. I shall be ready."

Leaving the portrait room, Eleanor put the gun in a pocket of her dress. She did not return to that lower room until eight o'clock, when Cardona arrived with the headquarters men. Eleanor was a bit qualmish, for the servants had been on constant duty. No one could have left the portrait room.

Yet the room was empty; so were the side alcoves when Cardona and his men inspected them. The Shadow was gone. Where he had gone and how, Eleanor could not imagine. She knew, though, that The Shadow would return after Henshew and Shark had both arrived.

The scene was set for trapping men of crime.

CHAPTER XXII. THE TRAP SPRINGS

NINE o'clock found Chanbury and Eleanor in the portrait room, seated placidly among the painted faces that stared from every wall. A servant arrived to announce Henshew. Chanbury took advantage of the last minute to reassure Eleanor.

"Remember," he said, in a tone of highest compliment, "I am relying on your bravery to help snare Henshew. I shall keep you here as long as possible to make the fellow show his hand.

"If it proves impossible, you can leave. In that case, go directly to the second floor, where all the servants are. They will look out for you, Eleanor."

The girl was busy at the typewriter when Henshew arrived. The machine was a noiseless one but the jewel broker noticed Eleanor. For a moment, he appeared annoyed; then his expression became a smiling one.

Henshew liked the set-up. Only one servant was on duty, a sleepy fellow who had come from the second floor to answer the doorbell. With Eleanor present, it seemed certain that Chanbury could expect no trouble.

"Too bad about Tyrune," expressed Henshew. "The chap looked bad when I saw him last night. He stopped at my apartment, you know, right after Meglo attempted his robbery."

"Tell me about the attack," suggested Chanbury. "Didn't you lose anything of value?"

"A few items." Henshew's tone had a significance that Chanbury could take any way he liked. "Nothing, though, that I felt necessary to mention to the police."

"Then the jewels -"

Henshew gave a warning shrug; looked toward Eleanor, who was still busy at the typewriter. Chanbury smiled and nodded.

"I forgot," remarked Chanbury. "You told me that you keep all valuable gems at your office."

"Yes." Henshew reached into his pocket. "I brought along a few special items that may interest you."

THE jewels that Henshew displayed upon the desk were new ones; a topaz setting that he pronounced as something of rare value, some amethysts that were fine specimens, but not uncommon.

Examining the gems, Chanbury guessed that Henshew was stalling for time. He tested the jeweler.

"I have never seen these before," said Chanbury.

"Quite naturally," returned Henshew, smoothly. "You have never been to my office to inspect my gems. I do not make a practice of taking stones elsewhere. Except in a few instances; then I never carry many."

The present case supported Henshew's statement. The gems that he had with him were worth a few thousand dollars at best.

"I expect a call from the office," added Henshew, eyeing Chanbury cannily. "They will keep open late, if I say the word. Perhaps you would like to go there tonight."

"Tomorrow would be better -"

The telephone interrupted Chanbury. He reached for it; heard a high voice inquire for Mr. Henshew.

Chanbury passed over the telephone. Henshew spoke his name; the voice inquired:

"Are you coming back to the office, Mr. Henshew?"

"Back to the office?" repeated Henshew. "No, not tonight. If you want me again, I shall be here for a while."

That call was from Shark, another fact that Chanbury had guessed. The art collector listened indulgently while Henshew discussed the merits of the topaz settings. Each passing minute showed a tightness of Henshew's tone, until the visitor noted that Chanbury's desk clock had reached half past nine.

Leaning across the desk, Henshew stated in a tone loud enough for Eleanor to hear:

"Regarding those uncut diamonds, Chanbury. I should like to see them again. I feel that I may have underpriced them."

Chanbury produced the chamois bag. Henshew examined the diamonds as he spread them on the desk.

"Worth much more," he declared. "I might be prepared to pay you four hundred thousand dollars for them."

"But what about your gems?" queried Chanbury. "I still want to buy them."

Henshew made no further attempt to stall.

"Those jewels were stolen," he declared. "It is all right for you to know it, Chanbury, but it would ruin my business if people learned that I had been foolish enough to keep them in my apartment. They are gone!"

"All of them?" Chanbury whipped out his penciled list. "All these that I jotted down from memory?"

Henshew's eyes stared at the list. For a few seconds his lips showed an ugliness that he usually concealed. Changing his manner, Henshew passed back the list and acknowledged:

"They were stolen, all of them. By Shark Meglo."

"I thought so!" Chanbury came to his feet. "Henshew, that is just what I wanted to hear you say. I have a witness - Miss Merwood - who has heard everything you stated. You have told so much that you can afford to tell more. I know, at last, that those jewels were the ones that belonged to Hugo Silsam!"

HENSHEW had risen also. He was stepping toward the door; but he was not disconcerted. Instead, he delivered a harsh laugh which ended with the chortled comment:

"I have a witness, also! One who can speak for himself. Shark Meglo!"

Henshew hauled the door open. On the threshold stood Shark, a trio of trigger-men behind him. Those three men were the only thugs that Shark had been able to muster; but Shark's contemptuous look showed that he thought he had all the men he needed.

Entering, Shark covered Chanbury with a big revolver, and nudged to a follower, who swung a gun toward Eleanor.

"Take it easy, Shark," suggested Henshew. "The way it's going, I might as well leave first. I can talk to the servant when I go out. Hold the fireworks until I've gained a head start."

"Sure!" agreed Shark. "Go build your alibi. We'll fix the flunky afterwards. There was nobody around when we came through, so why leave anybody that might squawk?"

With a narrow look at Chanbury, Shark stepped closer to the desk and picked up the uncut diamonds, to pass them to Henshew.

"You handle these," suggested the killer. "Nobody will know the dif. Keep 'em in your safe-deposit vault, along with the dough. I'll lam tonight; you can ship me my cut later -"

In turning toward Henshew, Shark let his gun swing slightly away from Chanbury. The thug who was covering Eleanor was telling a pal that the girl was a swell-looking dame, but that he didn't mind croaking a moll. No time could be better for the law's thrust. It came.

Side panels hoisted wide. Guns roared as Cardona and his men played a set policy of no quarter to the known murderer, Shark Meglo. Before Shark could even squeeze his trigger, he was loaded with lead from four guns.

Two other police revolvers took care of the rogue who covered Eleanor. Shark and the thug hit the floor together.

Motioning his hands downward, Chanbury dropped behind the desk. Eleanor was behind the typewriter table before Chanbury waved. Shark's last pair of gunners had their revolvers up, to shoot it out with the law.

They didn't have a chance. Quick bullets sprawled them; detectives snatched up the dropped guns before the wounded crooks could squirm to regain them.

Cardona had Henshew by the neck. The gem schemer was groping for his pocket, but his hands went limp as Joe choked him. Self-confessed brain in the jewel-murder game, Henshew was a prize that Cardona wanted to take alive. Henshew subsided; from a master-crook, he had become a cowering prisoner.

Clamping bracelets on him, Joe flung Henshew into a chair so hard that the handcuffs rattled.

"That cleans things up," announced Cardona, as detectives looked to the wounded men. "Shark did his last dirty job, when he murdered Tyrune. A good guy - Jim! He helped us, even after he was gone. But you staged the real show-down, Mr. Chanbury."

As Joe gripped Chanbury's hand, the grizzled man smiled and said:

"Don't forget Miss Merwood."

"I won't." Joe shook hands with Eleanor. "You were game, Miss Merwood. I'll bet if the same thing happened again, you'd be just as cool as ever -"

CARDONA'S praise was halted by a peal of muffled mirth, that presaged the very event of which Joe spoke. The chilling laugh loudened, as a clatter occurred at the back of the room. Past Chanbury, Cardona saw an appearing shape in black.

The Shadow was stepping from a third alcove, in the very center of the rear wall - one that had a swinging panel, on concealed hinges. Henshew, gaping from his chair, quailed at sight of the ominous avenger. Chanbury, wheeling, stared frozen.

Of all who saw The Shadow, one alone expected his arrival. That was Eleanor Merwood. Her happy gasp told that, to her, The Shadow's return was the needed climax in the exposure of hidden crime.

CHAPTER XXIII. DEAD FACES

THE SHADOW stood with folded arms as he faced the group before him. He had left past work to others; he could rely upon new cooperation when he required it. In whispered tone, he reminded Joe Cardona:

"You have forgotten something most important. The stolen jewels!"

It dawned on Joe that Shark had spoken of the uncut diamonds and cash in Henshew's possession, but no word of the gems that had been used in the round of murders. Cardona supposed that they would be found in Shark's hide-out; but there was one person present who held a different opinion.

As The Shadow faced the center of the room, his burning eyes had an effect like those of certain portraits on the walls. They seemed to bore toward every one who viewed them. Henshew felt that the stare was meant for him. Hoarsely, the captured crook exclaimed:

"You have them! You took them from my apartment! That was why you waited there -"

The Shadow's words cut Henshew short. In steady monotone, the cloaked avenger, disputed Henshew's belief.

"I waited," declared The Shadow, "because the gems were gone. Some one had rifled that hiding place, to take the jewels elsewhere."

The Shadow stepped aside. Within the space where he had been, others saw the door of a built-in vault, set deep. Eleanor gazed, amazed. She had never known that Chanbury possessed that secret strong room, behind a locked panel.

Eleanor had never studied the outside wall as The Shadow had done tonight. He had found a projection in addition to those that housed the side alcoves.

The sweep of The Shadow's hand indicated the closed safe. The gesture made words unnecessary.

Henshew understood.

"Chanbury took the gems!" exclaimed the jewel broker. "He knew that I had them! He was the only one

-"

Henshew stopped. Chanbury was not the only one who had known. Henshew could not forget The Shadow. The words, however, had given Cardona an idea. Joe voiced it, straight to Chanbury.

"So that's why you had Tyrune snoop at Henshew's. Open that safe, Chanbury! We'll have a look!"

"He must have planted them there!"

CHANBURY was pointing to The Shadow. The grizzled man's voice became hollow as he heard a whispered laugh. The Shadow's tone, like the look of the heavy-locked vault, belied Chanbury's accusation. Perhaps The Shadow was reputed to have amazing skill at opening vaults, but there was no one to testify to it.

If Henshew's gems were found in Chanbury's vault, the law would believe that Chanbury had placed them there. It would be odd, indeed, to find anyone - even The Shadow - bestowing a quarter million dollars' worth of wealth upon some one who had no claim to it.

"What if I do have the gems?" challenged Chanbury. "I've laid everything else in the open! I intended to do the same with the jewels I took from Henshew's! I couldn't let it out too soon."

"You never intended to!" cried Henshew. "You took the swag to scare me off. You thought maybe I'd quit and let you have the jewels. But if I came here - like I was fool enough to do tonight - I'd find the law here waiting. Maybe you'd like to know what I'd have done, if I'd known you had them gems. I'll tell you. I would have quit!"

Henshew's admission was small comfort to Chanbury. The Shadow had played crook against crook.

Henshew vengeful toward Chanbury, was using his own keen brain to supply facts that The Shadow could have stated.

When Henshew finished, Chanbury indulged in a dry smile. He felt that he could still square himself with the law; and he had good reason to so believe. Shark Meglo lay dead upon the floor. Chanbury's eyes glistened when he viewed the body. Others were watching him; so Chanbury was prompt to declare:

"There lies a murderer! Henshew is the man who backed the killer! All that I did was to save innocent lives."

"Except one!"

The Shadow's tone was sinister. Chanbury glared as he met the burning eyes. Turning to Eleanor, The Shadow spoke a question. Oddly his voice had changed its tone, so slightly that it was apparent only to the girl. Yet Eleanor, strained for the test to come, did not realize that she was again speaking to Kent Allard. She heard the quiet question:

"When did you reach this house last night?"

"At quarter of eight," replied the girl. Without waiting for another question, she added: "Mr. Chanbury said that he had retired early; but it couldn't have been as early as that. I thought that Mr. Chanbury was not here at quarter of eight."

"He did not expect you so early?"

"No. He gave me the evening off. But Tyrune seemed to think that Mr. Chanbury had been here, or should have been. I'm not quite sure -"

The Shadow's voice interrupted. Again, with exceeding calmness, he asked:

"About the pass-key marked Exhibit A. Did Chanbury show it to Tyrune when he mentioned it?"

"No," replied Eleanor. "He started to look for it in the desk drawer but did not find it. I never saw the key until after Inspector Cardona came here, much later."

"And in mentioning Henshew's apartment," prompted The Shadow, "did Chanbury merely suspect there was a hiding place behind the bookcase?"

"He said there was one," returned Eleanor. "But he said that before Tyrune told him that Henshew said nothing had been stolen from the apartment."

HENSHEW was out of his chair, shaking his handcuffed wrists toward Chanbury as he shrilled:

"That tells it! Tyrune guessed what had happened. He knew you'd sneaked out of here to grab my gems.

You forgot to put back the pass-key, didn't you? Left it in your coat upstairs. And you topped it by mentioning the place behind the bookcase. That drove it through Tyrune's thick skull -"

"Silence him, Cardona!" snapped Chanbury. "I have the gems. I have admitted the possession of them.

That proves -"

"That you murdered Jim Tyrune!" cackled Henshew, in insane enjoyment. "He was honest. He was through with you. He was going to call Cardona when he got home. That's what he was starting to do at the telephone."

Henshew settled back into his chair maddened by his own choking laughter. Above the crook's high-pitched chuckles came a more ominous mockery: the mirth of The Shadow.

Chanbury's fists were on the desk, his arms straining to support his body. He steadied; his knee raised slightly to nudge the buzzer below the desk top. Only The Shadow saw the motion. Rallied, Chanbury coughed his denial.

"You found Shark's mask," he voiced to Cardona. "That was proof against the killer -"

"A funny thing, that mask" inserted Cardona grimly. "Come to think of it, it was the first one Shark ever dumped. You know, Chanbury, they sell lots of bandannas, in every five and ten. It's easy to cut slits in them too. Any one could do it."

It was Joe's turn to talk and he was doing it. He stopped only to learn if Chanbury had something to say.

Defensively, Chanbury demanded:

"Why should I turn criminal? Look at this mansion - my art treasures -"

Chanbury stopped; he had seen The Shadow turn away. The Shadow was noting portraits on the wall.

As his eyes fixed upon one, The Shadow spoke:

"Faces from the past. I remember this one. Its owner thought the portrait was genuine; it was later declared a clever fraud. Perhaps he bought the original, but received the imitation -"

"Like my father did!" exclaimed Eleanor. "His paintings were proven false! He couldn't believe it. That is why he committed suicide."

"As Tyrune did!"

WITH those words, The Shadow's eyes met Eleanor's. His gaze called for action that The Shadow had told her would be needed. His back toward Chanbury, The Shadow was playing his master stroke. He was giving Chanbury an opening to betray himself without further proof.

Chanbury took it. Springing back from the desk, he yanked a gun from his pocket and aimed straight for The Shadow. The cloaked form faded; but its shift was unnecessary. Eleanor had acted at The Shadow's signal. She had the automatic from her pocket; she pressed the trigger before Chanbury could fire.

The crook staggered, a bullet in his elbow. Cardona and the detectives were surging for him. Their revolvers withered him as he tried to prop his right hand with his left. The grizzled crook rolled forward on the desk; toppled sideways and fell to the floor.

There was a clatter in the hall. Chanbury had counted on his servants; they were here, but too late to rescue him, thanks to the crippling shot that Eleanor had supplied. Crooks to the core, the armed invaders were willing to riddle Cardona's squad; but their chance never came.

Blackness blocked the door in front of them. Big automatics sprawled the foremost of the band. Others flung their guns aside; they cowered, arms raised in surrender. The Shadow's laugh echoed along the gallery. The lips of stolen portraits seemed to quiver in reply.

The mocking tone faded. Into the room came Chanbury's followers, herded by The Shadow. Detectives clapped handcuffs on them. Cardona drew Henshew from his chair. The prisoners began their slow march outward. Cardona ushered Eleanor from the room of death.

The girl gave one glance as she left. Faces from the past reflected her gaze: those wall portraits, to which Eleanor had become accustomed. But there were other faces here tonight, as stilled as painted ones.

They stared from the floor. Shark Meglo's, the face of a murderer; beyond that, the face of Michael Chanbury. Frozen in death, Chanbury's visage had lost its mask of pretense. Its hardened lines showed the murderous character of the man.

Madden Henshew, clever man of crime, had been trapped through the genius of a crook greater than himself.

The Shadow had allowed that outcome, that he might bring a similar disaster upon Henshew's crooked trapper, Michael Chanbury.

No longer did The Shadow linger in the mansion. His triumph finished, he had departed, while the law was rounding up the last prisoners that he had given them. Only Cardona was with Eleanor when she walked through the long gallery toward the marble stairs.

Yet a presence still lingered - one that had dominated from the start. Every move by men of crime had been under The Shadow's surveillance until the conquest of evil stood complete. Only The Shadow could have produced such absolute victory.

The lines of portraits seemed to smile from the walls of the long gallery, as if they knew that they alone had witnessed the departure of The Shadow.

THE END

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