CHAPTER I

THE SHADOW LISTENS

A WEIRD, mellow light pervaded the somber, black-walled room. The glow had a purplish tinge, and its strange rays centered themselves in a single corner, where they reflected the shining surface of a polished tabletop.

All was silent in that room. It bore the semblance of a chamber of death; and most mysterious of all was the spectral figure that sat before the table. Clothed in a cloak of jet-black hue, with visage obscured by the broad brim of a black slouch hat, this personage possessed the eerie quality of an apparition.

The Shadow was in his sanctum!

A ghostly being, shrouded by darkness, he awaited a message from some outside source. The very walls of the room in which The Shadow dwelt seemed to melt away into nothingness.

Somewhere in New York — in this amazing spot that was known to himself alone — The Shadow was formulating a plan to thwart the plots of evildoers.

A light glowed across the table. Its sudden appearance brought a strange response from the being garbed in black. A creepy sound shuddered through that secret room — a sound that formed itself into a mocking laugh, uttered by unseen lips.

The laugh died away; but its echoes responded from the hidden walls. Those echoes were convulsive reverberations that might have been the cry of a host of ghoulish demons, so unreal was their tone!

A white hand stretched forth from the black robe. Its appearance was uncanny, for it moved like a detached creature as it crept across the surface of the table. The hand stopped upon a switch that was attached to a black box on the wall.

On the third finger of the hand shone a shimmering gem, a rare fire opal that glimmered with ever-changing shades.

From deep maroon, the jewel changed to a purplish hue that blended with the pervading light. Then its rays were a light blue; again they became a firelike red, shining from uncalculable depths.

That stone was The Shadow’s girasol — a priceless gem, unmatched in all the world — the solitary symbol of The Shadow!

The switch clicked softly. A whispered voice spoke through the purplish gloom.

“Report.”

A quiet voice answered from the wall.

“Burbank speaking. Contact arranged with Seaview City. Vincent has opened interior wire connection. Ready for direct communication by radio.”

“Proceed.”

Silence followed the whispered order. Then came a slight clicking from the wall. After that, a confused murmur gradually developed itself into the distinct voices of men, speaking.

The hand pressed a button at the side of the table. The purplish light faded. Thus, immersed in total darkness, The Shadow had become an unseen member of a group of unsuspecting men miles away from New York City!

Through his amazing genius and the cooperation of his trusted operatives, this mysterious presence had invoked mechanical aid to place himself where he could hear without being seen.

The serious counsel of certain men was being brought directly to The Shadow’s consideration. From the hidden depths of his sanctum, he could both consider and advise.

MASTER of the unknown, The Shadow had a purpose in this self-appointed task. His identity a secret, his strange habitation undiscovered, The Shadow, more than any other person, was equipped to battle crime.

That, alone, was the clew to The Shadow’s presence in this sanctum, and his actions tonight. When The Shadow prepared, it could be for one purpose only. The thwarting of master plotters was The Shadow’s work.

A voice was speaking from the invisible box upon the wall. Its tones were deliberate and precise. It was the voice of a man who had authority.

Other voices responded. One was friendly — another was gruff — a third was wheedling. A friendly laugh of greeting broke into the conversation.

A sudden lull followed. Then, amid subdued murmurs, came the rapping of a solid object upon a table. A meeting was in order. The buzzing died away.

A clock began to chime. Its slow strokes sounded nine. A few snatches of low conversation were interrupted by another warning series of raps.

With complete silence gained, the important-sounding voice began to speak. No one interrupted. Quiet listeners were intent.

Among those listeners was The Shadow!

CHAPTER II

THE SHADOW’S WARNING

“IT is nine o’clock. Let us attend to business.”

The speaker was Rufus Cruikshank, newly elected mayor of Seaview City. Firm-faced, immaculate in attire, important in bearing, he commanded the respect of those about him.

Cruikshank was seated at a large table in the Green Room of the new Hotel Pavilion. Congregated about him were the most important citizens of Seaview City. These men constituted the Public Safety Committee of the prosperous shore resort.

“Our new administration,” declared Cruikshank, in his dignified tone, “faces a most important task. Seaview City, gentlemen, has grown to remarkable proportions. It is our task to govern it with wisdom and discretion.

“We have at our disposal a capable police force, headed by an excellent officer. I believe that we all have confidence in our police chief, George Yates. He is here tonight to cooperate with us in our conference.”

Cruikshank ceased speaking to turn to the end of the table, where a stalwart, red-faced man in uniform was sitting in an uncomfortable pose. The chief’s beefy countenance reddened even more as he saw all eyes turned in his direction. Yates uttered a gruff acknowledgment of the mayor’s introduction.

“We can rely upon Chief Yates,” resumed Cruikshank. “He has orders to report directly to me in every matter. It is my duty to take up all his important findings with this committee. Therefore, gentlemen, I think that it would be wise for us to hear what the chief has to say.”

Chief Yates arose at these words. He was tall and heavily built, and made a good figure despite his bulkiness. Once on his feet, he experienced little difficulty in talking.

“Policing this city,” he said, in a booming voice, “is a special kind of matter that is different from a lot of places. People come here to enjoy themselves. We’ve got to take that into consideration.

“There’s restrictions we’ve got to enforce, and the more sensible they are, the better. That’s what I’ve found out. It’s up to you, gentlemen, to decide what you want done, and I’m the fellow to do it. But if I can help by giving any suggestions, I’ll do it when I’m called on.”

Yates looked around him questioningly. He seemed to be awaiting interrogation. A sharp-faced man seated beside the mayor took up the opportunity immediately. This was Louis Helwig, one of the principal promoters of Seaview City.

“What about the closing hours on night clubs?” he questioned.

“There’s an ordinance says one o’clock,” responded the police chief. “It hasn’t been regularly enforced. The way it’s worded don’t make it official, unless we want to put the clamps on. Then we’ve got it to use.”

“Can you use it?”

“Yes.”

“On what basis?”

“On complaints. It don’t affect any except the ones we’ve got the complaints on.”

“That appears satisfactory.” Louis Helwig nodded as he spoke.

His nod was taken up by a man who sat beside him. This individual was a square-faced, businesslike man, Raymond Coates by name. He was the principal real-estate dealer in Seaview City.

MAYOR CRUIKSHANK alone appeared doubtful. He shook his head slowly.

“It seems to me,” he announced, “that varied interpretation of a closing ordinance can lead to both trouble and criticism. We must have an effective weapon to deal with public nuisances.

“The license suspension covers that, your honor,” prompted Chief Yates. “We can close them up tight on complaint. We’ve done it quick enough, when we’ve been told to. The only trouble” — his face became grim — “is, that we’ve been kept off too much.”

“That was during the past administration,” declared Cruikshank coldly. “I can assure you, chief — and all others present — that such circumstances shall not exist while I am in office.”

“What about hotels?”

The question came from a sallow, suave-faced man. Graham Hurley was the owner and manager of the luxurious Hotel Pavilion, in which this meeting was being held. He was frank in his question, seeming to admit that it applied to his own interests.

“We don’t bother the hotels,” responded Yates, “unless a lot of trouble breaks out. Then they generally call us in before it gets bad. They’ve got to keep their business right. That’s the way it works out.”

“Gentlemen” — Rufus Cruikshank’s cold voice was stern — “we are going to administer Seaview City so that it will become the greatest resort in this country!”

“It’s that already!” interposed one of the committeemen.

“In order to do so,” continued Cruikshank severely, “we must pursue a wise course. A resort that is tight shut may be as bad as one that is wide open, so far as progress is concerned.

“Nevertheless, I shall not hesitate to impose curbing regulations. I feel convinced that our existing ordinances are sufficient, if properly enforced. Do you agree?”

“Let me make a suggestion,” said Hurley, the hotel owner. “This establishment of mine represents a tremendous investment. I intend to make it a credit to Seaview City. Bad places hurt good places. I don’t want to see any bad places.

“The chief made a vital statement when he said that people come here to enjoy themselves. Let them do so. Be ready with strict enforcement, and begin it with the cheap, undesirable places. They cause the real trouble. Eliminate them, and you eliminate complaints.”

Murmurs of agreement followed. Rufus Cruikshank studied his companions closely, as though anxious to determine their sincerity. At last he nodded thoughtfully, and the others appeared relieved by his reluctant agreement.

“We have the matter of open crime,” he said. “My investigation shows that it is not prevalent in Seaview City. Am I correct, chief?”

“We can handle crooks,” declared Yates emphatically. “We bottle them up when they float in here. They’re all small fry that think they’re going to get easy pickings. Leave them to me. They don’t amount to much.”

“Is your force adequate?”

“Sure, the way things have been going. We don’t get organized crime here. If we did, I could shift the squads that watch the other places.”

“Seaview City has doubled in population in two years,” observed Cruikshank. “There has been no increase in the size of the police force.”

“Well, I could use more men.”

Louis Helwig was quick with an objection, and Coates sustained him.

“The area of the city has not increased,” he said. “We have ample police coverage. More officers would mean a new appropriation—”

“Which we are anxious to avoid — ” came from Coates.

“Because of the appropriations for the extending of the board walk,” added some one, “and also the fund for the completion of the municipal auditorium.”

These were persuasive arguments which Mayor Cruikshank could not ignore. He had been elected on the crest of a reform wave, but the promise of Seaview’s development had been an important plank in his political platform.

“I’ve got enough men,” interposed Chief Yates hastily. “We can always use more, but I won’t need them—”

“Then we are equipped against crime,” declared Cruikshank.

“Absolutely!” said Yates.

“It is agreed, then,” questioned Cruikshank deliberately, “that we shall retain the present maximum of our police force?”

Affirmative expressions came from all.

“Are there any other comments?” asked Cruikshank.

COMPLETE silence followed the question. The ornate clock in the corner chimed the half hour. Men began to rise from the table.

Then came a sudden, chilling moment that ended all motion. The members of the committee were aghast as they heard an awe-inspiring sound.

Through the room crept the weird mockery of a whispered laugh. Rising to an eerie crescendo, it broke like a huge breaker in the surf. Its myriad echoes murmured a dying response.

Into this room — seemingly from nowhere — had come the laugh of The Shadow!

No one stirred. Every man realized that the laugh would be the precursor of some more startling event. Seconds ticked by as they waited breathlessly.

Their faces were startled; even the police chief’s bluff countenance paled. Only Rufus Cruikshank, stern and dignified, retained his composure.

Now a voice swept through the room. A sardonic, whispered voice, it carried the same penetrating tones that had characterized the dreadful laugh.

“Prepare for crime!” declared the voice. “It will strike soon. Be ready! That is my warning.”

A pause, while the men stared, wondering, scarcely believing that this sinister voice could be that of a living man.

“While you are departing” — the voice was ominous — “others are gathering. They plot crime. They are close by you at this very moment. Prepare to meet them. Heed my warning!”

Men were clawing at their faces. Others were slumped in their chairs. Some, half standing, were trembling. Of the dozen present, not one was unperturbed. Only Rufus Cruikshank upheld his dignity; yet his fingers were tapping nervously upon the table.

Again came the fear-stirring laugh. Its tremolo ended with a gruesome dwindling that seemed to repeat itself upon the ears that heard it. The silence that followed was incredible. Roused imaginations still fancied that they sensed the token of some weird presence.

“Who — who — what is it?”

The stammered question came from Louis Helwig. He turned from man to man, as though seeking an explanation. At last his gaze rested upon Graham Hurley, the hotel proprietor.

Hurley shook his head slowly. He, too, was seeking an explanation, but saw only blankness when he looked toward Police Chief Yates. He was met with a cold, inquiring stare when he encountered Mayor Cruikshank. At last, realizing that this strange event had taken place in his own hotel, Hurley knew that the answer rested with him.

AMID the intense silence that followed the final ripples of the awesome laugh, Hurley had a sudden inspiration. His eye lighted upon a switch on the wall, where a plug was jammed into a socket. Going to that spot, Hurley removed the connection and slumped into a chair beside the wall.

“It must have been the radio,” he said, in a trembling voice.

“The radio!” The words were echoed by Raymond Coates. “I’ve heard that voice over the air! It’s the voice of The Shadow! But these words were no part of a radio program!”

“Gentlemen,” announced Mayor Rufus Cruikshank, in a self-possessed voice, “we may be the victims of a hoax. I consider this to be some prank which our defeated opponents have arranged to worry us.”

Tense silence followed. Every one expected to hear again the shuddering tones of The Shadow’s voice. But no word came.

Graham Hurley, examining the radio socket, turned to the others, and announced that this must have been the cause of the uncanny sounds.

“Can you trace the connection?” questioned Rufus Cruikshank.

“No,” said Hurley, shaking his head. “Some one has evidently tapped the wiring from somewhere in the wall. It would mean a great deal of trouble, and probably no result.”

“Then we shall forget it,” declared Cruikshank firmly.

“I’m not so sure it is a hoax.” Chief Yates was speaking. “It sounded like a warning to me. It sounded like whoever spoke knows something.”

Yates nodded emphatically as he made this statement. The others were momentarily impressed by his words. Then opinion changed as Rufus Cruikshank spoke quietly.

“Gentlemen,” said the mayor, “I shall abide by your decision. You represent the Public Safety Committee. We have made our plans. Now, from an unknown source comes a voice of warning. Shall we heed it, by appropriating special funds for the prevention of unmentioned crime — or shall we choose to regard it as a useless, freakish utterance that shall have no bearing upon our course of action?”

“There are other appropriations necessary—”

“We rely on your good judgment, mayor—”

“We’re well equipped for crime, anyway—”

These were the stumbling responses that followed the mention of a special appropriation. Now that the warning voice was no longer present, the apprehensive men were changing their opinions. Mayor Cruikshank rapped upon the table.

“The meeting is adjourned,” he declared.

The men filed from the room. The lights were turned out. The officials of Seaview City had made their decision. They had failed to accept the warning of The Shadow!

A SHORT while afterward, a young man entered the obscure Green Room of the Hotel Pavilion. He found his way through the dark until he reached the switch by the wall. He plugged in the loose cord.

“Vincent speaking,” he said, in a low voice. “In the Green Room. The others have gone.”

“Remove connections.” It was Burbank’s quiet voice that replied. “Detach dictograph. Remove equipment from your room. Pack, and return to New York.”

From beneath a corner rug, the young man detached an instrument that was connected with an unused lamp cord. He went back to the wall, and placed his hand upon the plug.

As he hesitated, he heard the low, whispered sound of an echoed laugh, which ended abruptly. The young man removed the plug. No longer could The Shadow hear what was said in this room. No longer could The Shadow speak to those who might be present.

Then Harry Vincent, operative for The Shadow, was gone. The room was empty and still. The Shadow’s mission was ended.

The Shadow knew. The Shadow had heard. The Shadow had spoken. He had warned men against crime, and his words had passed unheeded.

What menace threatened Seaview City?

Only The Shadow knew!

CHAPTER III

FOUR KINGS AND AN ACE

THE SHADOW had spoken facts!

While Rufus Cruikshank, mayor of Seaview City, was still talking to his companions in the palatial lobby of the Hotel Pavilion, master minds of crime were gathering beneath that very roof!

Two men were seated in the living room of a suite de luxe in an upper story of the great hotel. One was a huge bulk of a man, past middle age. He still carried a youthful air and smiling face; yet his heavy, bluff countenance had a hard-set look, that belied the friendly twinkle in his eyes.

Many persons in other parts of the country would have recognized this man, but he was a newcomer to Seaview City, and virtually unknown there. He was “Big Tom” Bagshawe, proprietor of a chain of palatial gambling houses, located in many parts of the United States. His most famous establishment was in Florida, where Big Tom was usually seen.

Where money was, Bagshawe was also. His presence in Seaview City denoted that he expected to accumulate wealth from this prosperous resort.

The other man was of a totally different type from Big Tom Bagshawe. Short, pasty-faced and possessed of shifty, cunning eyes, this individual had none of the friendly expression which characterized his big companion.

He was a fiend of the underworld, whose operations were so cunningly conducted that police had never managed to place their hands upon him. “Shifter” Reeves he was called, and his connection with questionable enterprises had always been a matter of speculation on the part of investigators.

These men were conversing in low tones. Both of them were cautious in their statements. Evidently this meeting had served as their first introduction. Big Tom was eyeing Shifter with a curious expression, and the pasty-faced man constantly turned quick glances in the direction of his companion.

Three soft raps sounded on the door. Shifter Reeves darted another sharp glance toward Bagshawe. With a slow, indifferent attitude, Big Tom arose to answer the knock.

“Three raps,” he said. “That’s Number 3.”

When Big Tom opened the door, a stocky man entered. He was well dressed, and carried himself with a challenging air. He closed the door behind him, and studied both of his companions. Satisfied they were the men he expected, he introduced himself.

“I guess you’ve heard of me?” he announced. “They call me Hooks Borglund. You’re Big Tom Bagshawe” — he glanced at the gambler as he spoke — “and I suppose you’re Shifter Reeves. Where’s the other fellow?”

“He’ll be here next,” answered Big Tom. “He’s Number 4. After him comes—”

“Hooks” Borglund nodded as though he understood. He sat down and lighted a cigarette nervously. All conversation ended; the three men were waiting.

THE silence did not last for long. Four raps sounded at the door. Big Tom answered the demand for admittance.

The man who entered was tall and well built. He had the manner of a gentleman. While the others looked prosperous, even wealthy — yet common — this man formed a contrast, because of his aristocratic bearing.

He was attired in a perfectly fitting dress suit, which he wore with the easy air of a man of the world. His clean-shaven face was handsome. Even the three who awaited him were impressed by his guise.

This man had an air of superiority that was not an affectation. He did not introduce himself as Hooks Borglund had done. He seemed to take all for granted as he sat in the chair, paying little attention to those about him.

Big Tom, seeing that the newcomer intended to make no statement, decided to supply the introduction himself. He did it in the form of a question.

“You’re Herbert Carpenter?” he asked.

The newcomer nodded.

“My name’s Bagshawe,” declared Big Tom. “This is Shifter Reeves, and this is Hooks Borglund. We’re the three that you were supposed to meet.”

“Glad to know you,” answered Carpenter.

Before any one could add further comment, there were five slow raps at the door of the suite. Big Tom cast an anxious eye about him to make sure all the others were properly seated.

“It’s him,” he whispered. “That means lights out, understand?”

The others nodded. Bagshawe extinguished the lights. He slowly opened the door, and a man walked in. Only his outlined form could be seen against the dim light of the outer passage. This quick flash ended as the man closed the door behind him. As Big Tom sidled back to his chair, the new visitor found a seat for himself.

A match flickered, but it did not show the fifth man’s face. His head was turned down as he lighted a cigar. Then all that denoted his presence was a small moving glow of fire that traveled up and down as the man intermittently raised and lowered his cigar.

“All here?” came the low question from the man with the cigar.

“All here,” answered Bagshawe.

There was a short silence, during which the fifth man seemed to be forming a plan of speech. In the darkened room there was a tenseness as though this newcomer was sizing up the men whom he could not see. The others waited for him to speak, a positive indication that he was the one most vitally concerned with this meeting.

“YOU know who I am” — the voice came in a harsh emphatic tone, as the obscured man made his first remark. “My name is Bryant. That’s enough. Never mind my first moniker; there’s lots of other guys have the same. They call me Wheels Bryant. That’s the name they give to big shots.”

Despite the fact the other four men constituted a group of self-confident individuals, there was no challenging response to the boastful claim which had been advanced. The other four unquestionably acknowledged “Wheels” Bryant as their leader.

“This is my lay,” resumed Wheels. “I’m working it my own way. I got everything fixed, and I’m giving all of you a cut-in. Whatever I say goes.

“Each of you is a specialist, and I am the one to pick the spots. I don’t want any complaining if one guy gets a lot to do and another has it soft. That’s all part of my game.

“I’m working from under cover. I can find out what’s going on in this burg. That makes it easy for the rest of you. I’ll handle it so that the bulls won’t bother you, and if you get in any jams, I’ll get you out.

“There’s the terms; I’ve put them up to you separate, now you’re hearing them together. If you’re set, we’re ready. If any one of you has a squawk, make it now.”

The silence that prevailed showed they were all satisfied. These men had evidently received individual communications from Wheels Bryant, and all knew what they were to expect.

“We’re going to ride this town,” declared Wheels Bryant gruffly, “and we’re going to begin by working the gambling end first. Big Tom likes to make soft money. We’re going to let him do it, and the profits come into headquarters.

“For a while it’s going to look like Big Tom is furnishing the gravy, but that won’t last long. His pickings will be small change when we get riding high.”

Grunts of approval sounded among the listeners. Wheels Bryant ignored the sounds. His cigar light cut a fiery arc as it shot through the air and disappeared out the open window.

“You’ve got your lay, Reeves,” declared Wheels. “That old display building, out on the end of Seaview Pier, is your place. You go in there to-morrow, and hire it for storage of boat equipment. The building has been condemned until next year, and they will be glad to rent it to you. Understand?”

An affirmative response came from Shifter Reeves.

“Shifter is handling dope,” announced Wheels. “That’s for all of you to know. He’s going to make a big clean-up. That house on the end of the pier is fixed up just the way he wants it. They used it for submarine observations last summer, and it’s fixed right for bringing in the hop. Shifter has got his men, and outside of them, we’re the only ones who are going to know about it.

“As for you, Borglund — I’m holding you for a while. When your chance comes along, it will be the grand clean-up. We’re not going to run any chances by running any kidnappings until we’re ready. Every good racket lasts just so long, and we’re going to spill yours in a big way, when the time comes. Get me?”

“All right with me,” affirmed Hooks Borglund.

“But in the meantime,” added Wheels Bryant, “you’re going to be busy, Carpenter. I hear you’re a pretty foxy bird. Like to work alone, and all that. Give you the right pickings, and you’ll knock them off.

“Well, Seaview City is just the spot to find a lot of rich playboys, all set for a blackmail job. It’s up to you to get them. When Big Tom opens that swell joint of his, you’ll find it a handy hang-out. Right?”

“Excellent,” remarked Herbert Carpenter.

“Sounds good, Wheels,” observed Big Tom Bagshawe. “The only thing is, how wide-open can I run? There’s a reform administration working in this town. Do you think they’ll be likely to close me up?”

“That’s my lookout,” responded Wheels, in a testy tone. “Seaview City is a resort. They aren’t going to bother any place that looks good from the front. Keep the rowdies out of your swell night club, and be careful who you let into the gambling joint, upstairs. Lay low when you get the word from me, and open up wide otherwise.”

There were no further comments. Every man seemed to understand his part. Wheels waited until he was convinced that all understood and were satisfied. Then he laughed gruffly, as he stepped across the room.

A tiny shaded light appeared above a telephone table as Wheels Bryant pressed the button. The leader of the five was barely visible behind the light. His face could not be seen. He reached forward and laid five playing cards upon the table. The cards were face downward.

“I want you boys to know how you stand,” he declared tersely. “I’m going to show you how I figure it. Just a little souvenir for you to keep until we hold the next meeting, up in Big Tom’s joint.”

WHEELS BRYANT turned the first card upward. It was the king of diamonds. He held the card in the light and extended his hand.

“That’s for you, Big Tom,” declared Wheels with a gruff laugh. “You’re a king — the come-on king — take it.”

Big Tom appeared in the light and took the card with his flabby hand. As the gambler walked away, Wheels Bryant turned up a second card. It was the king of hearts.

“That yours, Carpenter,” he said. “You’re the king that handles the take-off. Pocket it.”

The third card flipped up on the table as Carpenter walked away with his trophy. This was the king of clubs.

Bryant indicated this to Shifter Reeves.

“You’re the king that has the dope,” laughed Wheels in his ugly tone. “Take it; it’s yours — and hang on to it.”

The fourth card was the king of spades. Hooks Borglund accepted it.

“The fourth king,” was Bryant’s comment, “the king of spades, Borglund. When you dig, you’ll dig deep.”

Wheels Bryant fingered the last card, then he flipped it, face upward upon the table. It was the ace of spades.

“That’s the hole card,” declared the leader. “My card — the ace in the hole. That’s where it stays — out of sight — like me.”

“But remember” — his tone was calloused, mercenary — “the ace is higher than any king!”

Wheels Bryant snapped off the light. He strode through the darkness, opened the door, and left the place. As the door closed behind Wheels, Big Tom Bagshawe turned on the light. The four men looked at each other.

None commented on their interview with Wheels Bryant. They knew him for what he was, the biggest of big shots, a man who went after money relentlessly, and who had never failed to escape the toils of the law. He had declared them kings — each in his own right. Crime would soon be rampant in Seaview City.

One by one the men left the room. Without definite prearrangement, they departed in the same way they had come. The last of the four was Herbert Carpenter.

Standing alone, the well-groomed man glanced at the king of hearts, which he still held in his hand.

“Four kings and an ace,” he said. “Nevertheless” — his air was thoughtful — “there may be other cards in this deck.”

Then Carpenter, too, was gone. This room, like the Green Room below, was empty. Forces of the law and masters of crime had met in the same hotel.

There was prophecy in the words Herbert Carpenter had idly uttered. The game was on; the deck was stacked in favor of crime. Yet there were other cards which could be held, and some unknown man might hold them.

The solons of Seaview City might ignore the fact that crime was in their midst, and that this meeting had been held, but there was one who would be alert.

That one was The Shadow!

CHAPTER IV

CRIME BREAKS LOOSE

ONE month had passed since the first meeting of the Public Safety Committee of Seaview City. The season was in full blast. The resort was enjoying the greatest year of its history.

Yet pessimism governed the little group of men who were again assembled in the Green Room of the huge Hotel Pavilion. These men — the same ones who had met before — wore serious faces as they listened to the report of Police Chief George Yates.

The bulky, red-faced official was addressing his remarks to Mayor Rufus Cruikshank, who sat solemnly at the head of the conference table.

“They’re running away from us,” admitted Yates, in a reluctant tone. “There’s no use dodging the facts. Who the crooks are is beyond me. We’ve railroaded a lot of small-fry gunmen, and we’ve tried to break up the game, but it won’t work!”

“Be specific,” ordered Cruikshank, in a dignified voice. “You have talked of crime at each of our meetings, chief, and we have given you orders. Nevertheless, despite our cooperation, matters seem to have become worse. Give us a resume of recent events.”

“Dope, for one thing,” said Yates, shifting uneasily. “Seaview is loaded with it! The whole town is hounded by cokers. It seems like this is headquarters for all the hop shooters.”

“You have made arrests—”

“Yes, but all we seem to get is the addicts. We’ve had Federal men down here, but they can’t seem to get at the source of supply. We’ve watched the roads; we’ve watched the trains; we’ve put on a guard up at the harbor. No luck at all!”

“The airport?”

“Watching there, too. Fact is, your honor, I’ve made the force shorthanded, detailing so many men on that one line of work.”

“Where are the dope sales being made?” questioned Louis Helwig, the promoter.

“Everywhere,” retorted Yates. “Right here in this hotel, for one place.”

He looked toward Graham Hurley as he spoke, and the hotel proprietor seemed to imbibe some of the police chief’s uneasiness. Rufus Cruikshank became stern.

“What about it, Hurley?” he asked.

“I guess the chief is right,” answered Hurley. “I don’t like it, but what can I do to help it? If the dope peddlers weren’t in town, there wouldn’t be sales anywhere.”

“Correct,” agreed Cruikshank, looking toward Yates. “What have you done toward cleaning up the undesirable spots during the past week?”

“Plenty,” replied Yates. “But I’ve been taking them one by one. Have to, you know, because my force is scattered. But it seems like every time we shut up half a dozen, a flock of new joints bob up. It’s a big job, your honor!”

“Do you believe that your force is inadequate?”

“Yes! It wasn’t before” — the chief’s gaze hardened — “but now nearly a dozen of my men are out. About eight of them are in the hospital — battles have put them there. But there’s three — well—”

Cruikshank’s eyebrows arched questioningly as Chief Yates hesitated.

“Well?” queried the mayor.

“Well,” said Yates, “they’re unaccounted for — that’s all! Just gone out of the picture. Failed to report at the station house. No traces of them. What’s happened is something I can’t figure.”

“Who were they?”

“Two detectives, one patrolman. Both of the detectives were on duty at the Seaview Pier. Easy assignment, that. Make a check-up late at night, out to the end of the pier and back. They just haven’t turned up, since. The policeman was on regular patrol duty. He never came back.”

“You have investigated the pier?”

“Yes, sir. Sent down a detective sergeant. Nothing wrong with the place. He even looked into the old building on the end. It’s being used as a storehouse for boating supplies. Still has the tank that they used for submarine tests, but that’s no longer being used.”

“What else, chief?” questioned Cruikshank brusquely.

“Suicides,” asserted Yates. “Too many of them.”

“We had suicides here before,” put in Raymond Coates, the real-estate man.

“The rate is three to one, now,” responded Yates. “I had an idea people came to Seaview City to have a good time — not to jump off the ends of piers and out of hotel windows.”

GRAHAM HURLEY avoided the chief’s gaze. The others looked serious. It was a known fact that four persons had plunged from the upper stories of the Hotel Pavilion within the past twelve days.

“To what do you attribute these deaths?” asked Cruikshank.

“Dope — liquor — gambling — ” Yates detailed his statements “- and other things, perhaps, that we haven’t located. I’m telling you, gentlemen, matters are in a bad way here. I’m up against crime that’s so big it has me guessing!”

“Dope,” remarked Cruikshank. “You have covered that, Yates. Continue your present action. It will probably bring results. What about liquor?”

“That’s the one bright spot,” responded Yates. “It’s set me to thinking. We always have a lot of bootleggers, and we know how to handle them. There’s been less booze than before. That’s why I figure some big shots are playing the other games, and leaving liquor to the small fry.”

“Gambling?”

“Heavy. The biggest gambler in the country is located right here in Seaview City. Big Tom Bagshawe — the fellow that runs the Club Catalina.”

“The Club Catalina is being run respectably,” objected Raymond Coates. “I and other members of the Public Safety Committee have gone there frequently. It is a bright spot in Seaview City — an excellent attraction on the board walk. I feel that it should not be molested.”

“The club’s all right,” admitted Yates, “but I’m thinking about that gambling joint that is over it. Swell-looking place and all that — but it’s equipped for roulette and faro in a big way.”

“You have raided it?” asked Cruikshank.

“No,” returned Yates. “I’ve been watching it. Seems to be all right when I’ve got my eye on it, but at other times I’m doubtful.”

A laugh of disdain came from Coates. The mayor turned toward the real-estate man and spoke severely.

“Chief Yates is an efficient man,” he declared. “I shall tolerate no criticism of his work. I have faith and confidence in him. If necessary, I shall advise an increase of the force.”

“I’m not criticizing the chief,” protested Coates hastily. “I just don’t see why he should be worrying about places that he can’t find wrong. There’s too much real trouble in Seaview.”

“We discussed the matter of an increased force,” interposed Louis Helwig. “I don’t think that we should bring up that matter again — for the present at least. I think that when Chief Yates locates the real sources of evil, he will be able to cope with them. If he needs men then, let him have them.”

Nods of approval were the response of the other members. Rufus Cruikshank summed up the opinion by giving an approving nod, and announced that the meeting was adjourned.

AS Mayor Cruikshank walked from the Green Room, Police Chief Yates accompanied him. The mayor received his silk hat and donned it. He was the personification of dignity as he strolled toward the board walk, carrying his gold-headed cane.

Cruikshank noted that Yates was about to head in the other direction. He stopped the chief with a gesture. Yates followed him down an incline, and they stopped by the mayor’s parked limousine.

“Come with me,” suggested Cruikshank in a low voice.

Yates entered the car, and the two were driven to the mayor’s residence. Here they entered a small office. Cruikshank invited the chief to sit down, and offered him a cigar.

“Yates,” said Rufus Cruikshank sternly, “there is something on your mind. Tell me about it.”

“You’re right, your honor,” declared Yates, in a relieved tone. “I’m glad to get alone with you. I’m tired of these committee meetings.”

“You may come to me any time that you need advice.”

“I’ll do it in the future. I didn’t want to show lack of confidence in the committee, but—”

“But what?”

“They’ve got the strings on me,” responded Yates. “That’s what’s the matter. I saw it tonight. When I talked about suicides, Hurley squawked. Worried about his hotel. When I knocked the Club Catalina, Coates put up a holler. That’s because he owns the place, and leases it to Big Tom Bagshawe.”

“I understand all that,” said Cruikshank. “We must make allowance for enterprise in Seaview City. These men are only human, you know.”

“Yes” — Yates spoke in a slow and reluctant tone — “but that’s just where the trouble may be. They’re human — perhaps they’re too human!”

“How?”

“Well, I don’t want to make any accusations,” declared Yates, “but I can’t help thinking certain things. You know how I’m handicapped. All this battle against dope and gambling — it’s all discussed in the committee meetings before I make a move. Now, let’s suppose—”

Cruikshank’s gaze was severe as the police chief paused. Yates caught the mayor’s glance and moved uneasily.

“Go ahead, Yates,” said Cruikshank firmly.

“Suppose,” resumed Yates slowly, “that some one in that committee outfit is giving a tip-off. Watch here — watch there — lay low — and what not. It would help the crooks, wouldn’t it?”

RUFUS CRUIKSHANK nodded as he drummed upon the table. He seemed to be giving weighty consideration to the police chief’s words. Yates felt more and more uneasy. He realized that he had made indirect charges against certain men whom Cruikshank held in high esteem.

For a few moments, Yates felt that his job was hanging in the balance. Then he gained relief as Cruikshank replied.

“You may be right, Yates,” said the mayor. “Yes, you may be right. Tell me” — his tone became thoughtful — “is there any one whom you suspect?”

“No,” admitted Yates. “No one definite. But” — his tone became blunt — “there are some who might find it nice to have a finger in the pie.”

“Who are they?”

“Helwig, Coates, and Hurley, and maybe a few others who have pulled a lot of money into Seaview City.”

“All the more reason why they should desire to protect it.”

“I admit that; but at the same time one of them may be out for a clean-up — trying to get from under.”

“Your suggestion is a dangerous one,” declared Cruikshank. “Be careful about repeating it. It might cause you trouble—”

“I’ve only said it to you,” interrupted Yates hastily. “I thought I ought to tell you, your honor—”

“It was wise for you to do so. Chief, I am going to keep what you have said constantly in mind. If there is treachery in our midst, we must prepare for it. Have you any suggestions?”

“Yes,” replied Yates frankly. “I’d like to work with you, away from the committee, your honor. Let them know what we’ve done — not what we’re going to do.”

“Very good,” responded the mayor, nodding. “Very, very good, Yates. Suppose we start that plan tonight. Closer contact between you and myself, and less dependence upon the committee.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, your honor,” Yates said. “You saw how Coates flared up when I talked about the gambling hall over the Club Catalina. That club may be his pet — just the same, I figure that Big Tom Bagshawe isn’t here just for his health.”

“That is probably true, Yates, if the man is the big gambling figure that you say. Why don’t you watch the place more closely?”

“I’ve got men down there, but they’re known. Tonight” — Yates had a flash of inspiration — “I’ll stop in there and look things over myself! Sort of a surprise visit. How about it?”

“A very good idea.”

“And after that, I’ll do a round of the dives. See if my men have landed any hop sellers.”

Mayor Cruikshank arose and shook hands warmly with Police Chief Yates. The bulky officer left the residence and started back toward the board walk. Cruikshank stood watching him from the door, nodding in approval.

The room which the two had left was empty. Only a long shadow rested upon the floor — a strange streak of black that came from the direction of the open window. Now, that shadow moved. It glided toward the window and disappeared.

Some one had been listening!

On the street in front of the house, the same shadowy shape reappeared, yet there was no sign of the personage whose presence it betokened.

Moving swiftly along the sidewalk, the shape of black followed the direction which the chief of police had taken. Half a block from Mayor Cruikshank’s home, it overtook the striding officer.

Chief Yates did not see the mysterious shadow. Neither did Mayor Cruikshank, standing at his door. Yet that shape followed on, accompanying the police chief in the direction of the Club Catalina.

That weird splotch of darkness meant the presence of a living personage. Some unknown being was taking a serious interest in the affairs of Seaview City.

Only one figure could move so silently and invisibly through the dark. That was the same one whose warning against crime had passed unheeded. The Shadow was here, in Seaview City!

CHAPTER V

BEHIND THE DOOR

THE Club Catalina was traveling full blast when Police Chief Yates entered the popular night club. Located on the first floor of a large building, the club was the logical place for board-walk amusement-seekers.

Chief Yates paused and looked over the large room, with its broad dance floor. It was a gorgeously furnished cabaret, with hundreds of tables about the sides. The single vaulted room was fitted with three imposing pillars set in the center of the floor to support the high ceiling.

His brief inspection ended, Yates turned toward a stairway at one end of the room. His thoughts were working slowly, and his usual alert eye did not notice the shadowy shape that moved up the stairs ahead of him. Treading the thick carpet, Yates was speculative.

Carpeted stairs meant that visitors were expected up here. Yet there was no influx of customers. Yates was doubtful. He knew the signs of a hideout, from the ground floor up.

At the head of the turning stairs, Yates encountered a closed door. He turned the knob. The door opened, and the police chief strode into a small room with a door on the other side. The second door also yielded to his touch.

The room which Yates now entered was rather large and square. It had two doors in adjacent sides. These were open, betraying the plan of the floor — four rooms, each part of a large square.

The first of these rooms — the one in which Yates now stood — was peopled with a dozen persons, who were playing bridge at card tables. There were others standing about the room. Yates recognized one man as a detective stationed on the premises.