Stepping to the suitcase that he had brought with him from another hotel, The Shadow opened it and brought out a fresh cloak, along with a flattened slouch hat.

Placing those garments so they would appear as a topcoat resting across his arm, The Shadow paused beside the window and gazed across the lighted slopes of San Francisco, to an area where lights of many colors threw a weird glow against the foggy sky.

Again a laugh stirred from motionless lips. That mirth was The Shadow's prophecy of an adventure soon to come.

CHAPTER VI. A j.a.pANESE WELCOME.

IT is supposed that the recent j.a.panese invasion of Chinese soil began with the conquest of Manchuria. To a degree, that idea might be amended. Long before they set up the puppet state of Manchukuo, the j.a.panese were biting into Chinese territory, not in Asia but in North America.

Their sphere of action was San Francisco's Chinatown, where, by wise and timely purchases, the j.a.panese used business methods to acquire Chinese properties. Hence, strictly speaking, San Francisco no longer possesses a Chinatown. Instead, it has an Oriental quarter where natives of warring nations dwell together in comparative peace.

The lights that The Shadow viewed from his hotel window were those of Chinatown, but his thoughts concerned a j.a.panese establishment. Riding by cab to the Oriental district, he traveled along a street where j.a.panese signs stood out conspicuously among those of Chinese merchants.

From the window, The Shadow saw the very sign that he wanted. It bore the t.i.tle: ISHI SOYOTO.

Oriental Merchandise Soyoto's shop was closed. It was a small place tucked between two Chinese stores, but above were darkened windows that might be Soyoto's residence. The Shadow told the cab driver to turn the corner.

By the time the taxi had wheeled into a dark street, its pa.s.senger was no longer Lamont Cranston. His shoulders enveloped in his black cloak, his head topped by the slouch hat, The Shadow let a bill flutter into the driver's lap and made a silent and rapid exit from the cab.

The taxi man didn't speculate on where his pa.s.senger had gone. He decided that the less he bothered about it, the better. It wasn't often that money dropped into his lap, and he wasn't anxious to park too long on a back street in Chinatown. The cab scooted away as if something was after it.

From the gloom of the street below, The Shadow looked for a way to reach Soyoto's upstairs premises. The more he studied them, the greater the problem became. There was no rear door to the place, and the windows, from their look, were barred.

All that was in keeping with what The Shadow knew about Ishi Soyoto.

He had never met the j.a.panese in question, but he knew that Soyoto was something more than an ordinary merchant. There had been times when The Shadow had looked into j.a.panese affairs, and he was familiar with important messages that bore the signature of Ishi Soyoto.

As Cranston, he had visited the shop in daytime, to find it a sleepy place, quite out of keeping with j.a.panese enterprise. Nor was Soyoto ever in the place.

That fitted with The Shadow's opinion that Ishi Soyoto was an unofficial representative of certain important factions in j.a.pan, the very man who might employ a group like the acrobatic j.a.ps who had given The Shadow a battle on the bay sh.o.r.e.

Keeping close to the dingy wall, The Shadow avoided occasional pedestrians in the darkness. His course took him back toward the corner that the taxicab had turned. Just short of the lights, The Shadow stopped to observe a little shop with dimly lighted windows.

It bore a Chinese sign, and it looked like a tea shop, but through the window The Shadow could see stacks of dust-laden chests along the shelves. A sleepy-eyed Chinaman was squatting in a corner chair, apparently expecting no customers.

This place, like Soyoto's store, looked dead, so far as business was concerned. True, a Chinese merchant might be content to let business drift along with time; but he could scarcely be expected to stay open evenings, if he adhered to such philosophy.

The Chinese tea shop, as The Shadow studied it, looked like a tribute to Soyoto's craftiness. Anyone looking for a secret entrance to a j.a.panese headquarters would not expect to find a route leading through a Chinaman's store.

SCARCELY had The Shadow formed that opinion before he drew back instinctively to a s.p.a.ce away from the window. Someone had come in from the corner-a little man, who was sneaking along the narrow street. The Shadow could hear the fellow's breathing, as he stopped in front of the tea house for a cautious look about.

The man slid into the shop. Swinging back toward the window, The Shadow caught a glimpse of the visitor. The fellow was a j.a.panese, and he pa.s.sed unchallenged by the Chinese proprietor. Opening a door beyond a stack of tea chests, the j.a.p stepped fromsight.

Five seconds later, a patch of blackness fell upon the threshold of the tea shop. It sidled through the open door, grew to a strange, grotesque shape once it was inside. A low whisper was audible among those cobwebbed walls.

The sleepy Chinaman looked up; his lips opened to drop a long pipe that was pressed between them. When he found his voice, the Celestial gulped a name: "Ying Ko!"

He had recognized The Shadow. Long had that master of mysterious methods been known among Chinese as Ying Ko. He was recognized as a foe to all who dealt in evil. Arrived with unexpected suddenness, he had every appearance of a being bent on vengeance. The effect on the lone Chinaman was exactly what The Shadow had antic.i.p.ated.

That Celestial was troubled with a guilty conscience, not because he had ever dealt in crime but because he was in the pay of Ishi Soyoto. He knew of fellow countrymen who would not be pleased to know that his store served as the back door to a j.a.panese headquarters.

He recognized that such word would reach them, should Ying Ko choose. The expression of his face showed plainly that he was ready to follow any orders that The Shadow might give.

Stepping close to the Chinaman, The Shadow toned low words in singsong language. The Chinaman nodded. He was to remember nothing of Ying Ko, should he be questioned later.

That was a plausible suggestion; after all, who could ever see Ying Ko, should Ying Ko choose otherwise?

Reasoning thus, the Chinaman wondered why The Shadow had paused at all while en route to the hidden door. The mystery was explained when The Shadow put questions in Chinese.

Those queries had the tone of commands, and the worried Chinaman oozed answers. By the time he was through, he had blabbed every detail that he knew regarding the secret route to Soyoto's upstairs rooms.

With a whispered laugh that made the Chinaman cringe uneasily, The Shadow wheeled past the tea chests and opened the door. He glided into darkness, to pick a course along a pa.s.sage. He went by a stairway, came to a door, but instead of opening it he pressed a panel shoulder high in the wall.

A door slid open; it closed as soon as The Shadow had crossed the threshold. Counting six paces forward, The Shadow turned to his right and probed another panel. A second sliding door revealed steep stairs, dimly illuminated from above. The Shadow followed that flight to the top, then stepped across the final step.

He had avoided a move that would have sounded an alarm. Everything was as the Chinaman had told him, and the best was still to come. Moving along another pa.s.sage, The Shadow stopped at a door on the right. It seemed locked, and he could have worked for hours at the keyhole without result. The trick lay in the doork.n.o.b. It worked like the dial of a safe.

Three to the left, two to the right, four to the left-the door was open. Twisting into a darkened room, The Shadow closed the door behind him and moved along beside the wall.

At the corner, he stretched his arms as a brace, moved his foot forward and tested the floor.

It gave with a slight creak.

Again, the Chinaman had revealed the truth. This room was floored by an oversizedtrapdoor, set to drop an unwary intruder into depths below.

Edging along the next wall, The Shadow reached another door. There was no trick to this one, but he employed the utmost care when he turned the k.n.o.b. As he eased the door inward, The Shadow saw a mild glow that permeated a lavishly furnished room.

On one side were windows; on the other, the usual door by which persons entered. That door, the Chinaman had told The Shadow, was always guarded by men stationed in an anteroom.

NEAR the center of the room was a large desk. Behind it, his back toward the windows, set a bespectacled j.a.panese. He was attired in a native costume, and wore a bluish jacket with a golden sash that showed above the level of the flat-topped desk. Beside him lay some open books, all printed in j.a.panese characters on thin double pages of rice paper.

In contrast, however, were other objects close by. A cradle telephone rested on the desk; just beyond was a news ticker, that began to click as The Shadow watched. The j.a.panese turned to watch the tape that came from the ticker, and his move and its noise gave The Shadow perfect opportunity to step into the room and shut the door behind him.

There was no doubt as to the ident.i.ty of the man at the desk. His wizened face, his thin hair, the large-rimmed spectacles, fitted the descriptions of Ishi Soyoto. Busy with the ticker, Soyoto could not hear The Shadow's approach. He was still turned away when his black-clad visitor had reached the desk.

The Shadow drew an automatic, leveled it across the desk so that its muzzle would loom before Soyoto's eyes the moment that the bespectacled man turned about. Indeed, The Shadow found himself gripped by a rare emotion: that of impatience. He was anxious to see Soyoto's reaction when he faced the gun.

It would be the first object that Soyoto would see, for the room was lighted solely by a desk lamp that threw its glare directly upon the big .45 projecting from The Shadow's gloved hand.

The ticker ceased its clickings. Soyoto tore away the tape, dropped it upon the desk along with other paper strips. He swung his swivel chair around, coming face to face with the gun muzzle. He eyed it with interest, so fascinated that he did not look upward to meet the gaze of The Shadow.

In a troubled manner, Soyoto made clacking noises with his tongue. They indicated distress at the realization of an invader, but that note was well-feigned.

Before The Shadow could catch the real significance, men were upon him. They rose from hidden spots behind the desk and big chairs that sided it. There were four of them; they came with a simultaneous leap, wiry fellows who caught The Shadow before he could wrench away. He was dragged back from the desk; his gun tilted upward, away from Soyoto.

Too late to offset the tactics of those jujitsu specialists, The Shadow could have resisted only with gunfire. His finger was on the trigger, his deft wrist whisked from gripping hands soon enough for him to aim as he pleased. In that one maneuver, The Shadow had counteracted the j.a.panese attack, and it was sufficient for him to gain a real advantage of his own.

But The Shadow did not fire. He let the gun pivot in his hand as proof that he could use it; helowered the weapon toward the floor. Ishi Soyoto saw the gesture and gave a pleased grin.

Again, he made the clack-clack that he used as signal to his followers.

Hands released The Shadow. The jujitsu crew stepped back. Soyoto arose from his swivel chair, made a polite gesture toward another chair near the desk.

"Your visit is a welcome one," said Soyoto in short-clipped English. "Pray be seated, so we can discuss matters-Mr. Cranston!"

The Shadow let his gun slide beneath his cloak. Peeling away his gloves, he held them in one hand, while he removed his hat with the other. He was indicating that need for subterfuge had pa.s.sed, and again Soyoto looked pleased.

Dropping the gloves in the hat, The Shadow placed the latter on the desk. His face came into the light; scrutinizing the firm features of Cranston, Soyoto delivered a nod of recognition. He watched The Shadow take the opposite chair. Speaking in j.a.panese, Soyoto ordered his servitors to retire.

They filed away in solemn procession through the door that led to the anteroom. Alone with The Shadow, Ishi Soyoto politely proffered a pack of cigarettes. The Shadow took one, Soyoto another. Both lighted them from the match that the thin-haired j.a.panese supplied.

Leaning back in his swivel chair, Ishi Soyoto indulged in another of his wide-mouthed grins.

Then, his face becoming more solemn, Soyoto began to speak. His tone was serious, his expression sincere.

For with all his cunningness, Ishi Soyoto had recognized that his neat trap might have failed him had The Shadow chosen battle instead of conference.

CHAPTER VII. SOYOTO'S MESSAGE.

"I HAVE awaited you, Mr. Cranston," declared Soyoto, in his choppy English, "because I know much about you. One who is so clever as to be The Shadow, should surely learn of those who have learned of him."

While propounding that logic, Soyoto kept his eyes fixed upon the calm face of Cranston.

Through his thick spectacles, the j.a.panese was trying to scrutinize beyond the impenetrable mask that formed The Shadow's features. Gaining nothing, Soyoto puffed his cigarette, blew a slow coil of smoke from between his lips.

"Of course," he said, politely, "we know that you are not Lament Cranston. The face that you wear is a disguise-like your cloak, like this hat"-he gestured toward the desk-"that you have obliged me by laying aside.

"But since you choose to appear as Cranston, we respect your wishes. To me, for the present at least, you are Lamont Cranston. Is that to our mutual like?"

"Quite," replied The Shadow. "It intrigues me, Mr. Soyoto, to meet some one who has guessed the ident.i.ty that I occasionally use."

Soyoto listened intently to The Shadow's tone. It was not a sinister whisper; it was a calm, even form of speech, almost a leisurely drawl. It was a voice that suited Cranston, and Soyoto admired the thoroughness with which The Shadow clung to his present role.

"This meeting is most fortunate," resumed Soyoto. "It is an honor to speak with one so wise.

I am glad to greet The Shadow as a friend. It may be that we can exchange muchknowledge."

It was evident that Soyoto was fishing for facts, and his statement indicated that he might supply some of his own. There was a flicker of interest on the maskish face of Cranston.

Whether genuine, or merely an expression to encourage further statements from Soyoto, was something that baffled the j.a.panese.

"Perhaps you would like me to speak first," suggested Soyoto. "Very good, Mr. Cranston. It all has been a very bad mistake. We-myself and others-have no interest in the ship called the Barracuda, except to prove that we did not steal it."

He picked up strips of tape from the desk, smoothed them and pa.s.sed them across to The Shadow. They were typed in j.a.panese characters, and Soyoto nodded knowingly when he saw The Shadow read them. Most of them were confidential reports from Washington, further denials on the part of j.a.panese regarding the Barracuda matter.

Soyoto reserved one strip for himself, stroking it between his fingers while he kept the printed side away from The Shadow's view.

"The facts are these," declared Soyoto. "Commander Prew invented a new ship. What he intended to do with it, we do not know. It is said he did not wish to give it to his government, though he had promised to do so. Whether that is true or false, I cannot say. But it is certain that Commander Prew did not offer his ship to my government in Tokyo."

There was a slight smile forming on Cranston's lips. Soyoto seemed to understand it, for he leaned forward and added wisely: "Commander Prew did not steal his own ship. That was done by another. One who has not yet been named. Perhaps you can tell me, Mr. Cranston, just who that person might be."

Soyoto was fingering the tape, referring to it with a glance down his spectacles. That was why The Shadow quietly replied: "The man's name is Felix Sergon."

There was a bow from Soyoto. He placed the tape in The Shadow's hands. It was a report, in j.a.panese, naming Sergon as the man who had taken the Barracuda.

"You understand in full," declared Soyoto. "I am free to tell you why my men were present last night. They were seeking Sergon-not to aid him, but to learn his schemes. Felix Sergon is a very dangerous man. We do not trust him in j.a.pan."

Soyoto's choppy statement had the ring of sincerity, but he was not sure that he had convinced The Shadow.

"You think, perhaps," continued Soyoto, "that we might trust Sergon if he brought the Barracuda to us. Not so, Mr. Cranston. But we are very anxious to have Sergon believe that we would buy the ship. That would give us opportunity to trap him."

"Consider these things, Mr. Cranston." Soyoto was leaning back in his chair, smiling wisely.

"My government seeks friendship with America. That is why I am in San Francisco. My purpose is not to spy, but to create good will. Unfortunately, that policy has been misunderstood.

"Our only course is to aid your government to regain the missing Z-boat. To do so, we must entice Felix Sergon. We must make him believe that he will be welcome in j.a.pan. That iswhy we have not stated his name to your government."

Soyoto waited for The Shadow's reaction. He thought he caught a slight nod from Cranston.

Soyoto's logic was twofold: first, there was sense to the situation as he had stated it; again, there was the chance that if the j.a.panese openly declared the name of the man who had taken the Z-boat, they might be subject to further misunderstanding.

Ever clever, Soyoto was letting The Shadow form that second conclusion of his own accord.

Once sure that The Shadow had considered it, Soyoto leaned forward with a new suggestion.

"You wonder, perhaps," he began, "why I have mentioned Felix Sergon to you. It is only because you first admitted that you knew who he was. From that, Mr. Cranston, I understand that you have kept all information to yourself. Since that is your policy, we are both in accord.

"Therefore, we can work together. There are facts that each of us should know. Facts, perhaps"-Soyoto was stroking his smooth chin- "that we do know, separately. It would be wise for us to exchange them."

"For what purpose?"

Soyoto evidently expected The Shadow's cool-toned question. He had an answer for it.

"That we may find Commander Rodney Prew," declared the j.a.panese, "and begin our search for Felix Sergon."