Was this a genuine call, or had someone observed the light that The Shadow had temporarily turned on in Methron's bedroom? Instinctively, The Shadow rejected the first answer and settled on the second; then reason compelled him to believe that the call was pure luck.

Methron's front window was too high above the street for the light to have been seen.

Moreover, fog was settling so thickly that the glow could not have been noticed from any nearby building.

That call could prove vital. The proper move was to answer it, but to do so in efficient fashion. If the caller actually wanted to talk to Methron, The Shadow would need some pretext to keep him on the wire.

It wouldn't do to take Methron's voice, for The Shadow had never heard it. During thoseseconds while he sought some other answer to the problem, The Shadow heard the buzz repeated. He knew that he couldn't wait much longer, for the person at the other end might become impatient or suspicious.

The Shadow needed a quick inspiration. It came to him as he clenched one gloved hand.

From inside the glove came a crinkle. It was the ticker tape that The Shadow had tucked there. He remembered one detail of that message - a reference to Methron's servant, who had supplied information to Ishi Soyoto.

That servant must have been a j.a.panese.

The Shadow's decision was made. He could fake a j.a.p's voice well enough to get by, because they had a mode of speech that was almost uniform, particularly among those who acted as house servants.

Despite his decision, The Shadow paused before moving over to the telephone. He had caught another sound-one that made him listen for a moment, then urged him to hurry his new-made plan. The new sound was a clang from the fire escape, somewhere near the ground level.

Soyoto's crew was here. The sooner The Shadow answered that call and finished with it, the better.

HE bounded to the telephone. Scooping up the mouthpiece, he spoke in a clippy tone: "Who speaking, please?"

For a few seconds there was no answer, although The Shadow could tell that the wire was open. Then came a voice that seemed to have a forced growl: "I want to talk to Mr. Wiggin."

"Not here at present," replied The Shadow. "He give order to take message."

The man at the other end thought that over much too long to suit The Shadow, tensed, not on the man's own account but because sounds were audible from higher on the fire escape. At last: "No message," came the growl. "I'll call him later."

In j.a.panese style, The Shadow introduced a quick suggestion: "Give number, please."

"Give what?"

"Give number, so master can call. You wait. He come back soon."

It was the term "master" that clinched the matter. The Shadow cleverly avoided reference to Methron by name, and also dodged the name of Wiggin. Evidently the caller decided that the supposed servant must be completely in Methron's confidence, for he didn't hang up. His voice lost something of its growl, as he parried: "How soon?"

"Very soon." Something was due to happen very soon, as louder sc.r.a.pes from the fire escape foretold.

Lifting his shoulder, The Shadow pressed it against the end of the receiver, to wedge the latter in place against his ear. His left hand free, he drew an automatic, to greet the invading j.a.panese.

While still in that pose, he heard the voice repeat a number; and the name of the telephone exchange located it as near the water front. Lips close to the mouthpiece, The Shadow asked: "How long you stay there?"

"Fifteen minutes," decided the speaker. "I can't wait any longer. Tell Mr. Wiggin to call as soon as he comes in."

A receiver clicked at the other end. The Shadow let his own receiver nestle on the hook.

Sounds had ceased from the fire escape; the j.a.panese were coming in by the hallway. It wouldn't take them long to unlock the easy door of the apartment, for their previous search of The Shadow's hotel room told that they were expert at such work.

There was still time, however, for The Shadow to prepare a surprise. The best location would be the bedroom. He was in there by the time a key was rattling in the outside lock, and his first move was to open the front window.

There was a narrow ledge outside it, and The Shadow peered along that shelf, to see where it would lead if needed as an emergency exit.

The moment that he raised the window, he heard a scurry from below. Someone had dashed out to talk to the doorman; the arrival was the glum-faced clerk who had been behind the lobby newsstand.

He started to gesticulate upward. Immediately, the doorman whipped off his big blue coat and flung it across a bra.s.s rail beside the outside steps. He and the clerk started a dash into the apartment house.

The doorman's haste to get rid of his coat, and the fact that he wore an ordinary suit beneath, gave the whole thing away. They weren't employees here, they were San Francisco detectives; stationed on some special duty. Their purpose was less important than the reason for their alarm.

Someone a few floors below must have heard the j.a.panese intruders ascending the fire escape and sent word to the lobby. The d.i.c.ks were coming up to find out who the invaders were.

The j.a.panese were already in Methron's living room, creeping through with very little stealth, for they were unfamiliar with this apartment. The Shadow had an excellent chance to leave them with an empty nest. He was at the window; the ledge offered safe pa.s.sage to any apartment on the entire sixth floor.

But if he slipped away, there might be consequences of a most unfortunate sort. The j.a.ps didn't know that they had been discovered. If they stopped to puzzle over Methron's death, to look for vain clues, they would be trapped here. Driven desperate, they would try to fight their way out.

There would be casualties; whether j.a.panese or detectives, the result would prove bad. It would mean another clouded issue, with ensuing complications. The affair at the Sausalito pier had been unfortunate, because The Shadow believed Soyoto's statement that thej.a.panese had been there to hinder Felix Sergon, rather than to help him.

If j.a.panese were reported on the scene where Methron's body lay, suspicions would be increased. They might be blamed for a murder which was certainly not their work; the presence of a batch of them would indicate that they had come to carry away the body.

There was only one way to defeat the present dilemma. It required one of the greatest nerve tests that The Shadow had ever undergone. He deliberately threw away sure safety in order to accomplish it.

INSTEAD of swinging through the window, The Shadow waited until the creeping j.a.panese were actually in the room. Then, as his left hand thrust away his automatic, he reached for the lamp cord with his right.

He overcame the momentary hesitation that gripped him. Yanking the cord, he wheeled full about, raising both hands as high as he could reach.

Death was closer than when the bullet from Methron's revolver had whizzed past The Shadow's ear. As his cloaked figure turned, to become a helpless target, all four of Soyoto's men bounded to their feet, pointing their guns as they came.

The Shadow saw fingers that were actually quivering on triggers, as the j.a.ps recognized the fighter who had so recently tricked their master.

They managed, however, to withhold their fire, but kept their guns leveled. Slanty-eyed, they squinted suspiciously. Though they had expected to find The Shadow here ahead of them, they had not counted upon his prompt surrender. Their faces betrayed the conflict in their minds.

Soyoto must have instructed them to use their guns as threats; to depend upon their superior number if The Shadow fired first. For Ishi Soyoto, of all persons, was anxious to regain an understanding with The Shadow. Whatever Soyoto's real purpose, whether he dealt in truth or lies, he knew that a deed once perpetrated could not be revoked.

The Shadow took advantage of the timely indecision among the j.a.panese. His tone came sinister, strange in its utterance, for he spoke in the language of their native Nippon. He seemed to be speaking for Ishi Soyoto, reminding them of their most important duty here.

They had been sent, so said The Shadow, not to wage battle but to find Carl Methron and bring him alive to Ishi Soyoto.

That was impossible. With a sideward sweep of one gloved hand, The Shadow pointed to the figure on the floor. The j.a.panese saw Methron's body for the first time; they heard The Shadow's statement that the man had long been dead. Methron could have told The Shadow nothing; but there was something that The Shadow could tell these j.a.panese.

Hearing a chance sound, he lifted his hand again, one finger pointed as a signal for them to listen. What they heard was the rumble of an elevator coming upward. Turning his finger toward the door, The Shadow added a command.

"Go at once!" he ordered. "Go back to your master, before you are found here. Tell him all that you have seen here. Bear him the message that I have acted as his friend. He will believe you."

The Shadow's hand swung to the light cord. He tugged it before a solitary j.a.panese could make a move. His silhouette vanished from the window frame so suddenly that no eye observed the direction it had taken. That climax decided the j.a.panese. The Shadow'sadvice was wise. To ignore it might mean rebuke from Soyoto.

As final urge, they recognized that The Shadow, again in darkness, could be a formidable foe. They realized, too, that any minute might place them between two fires, for the elevator was certainly bringing newcomers to the sixth floor.

THERE was a scramble as the j.a.ps made for the hallway. Stumbling over one another, they reached the fire escape and began a mad tumble downward. From the door of Methron's apartment they heard a strange laugh-one that seemed to brook trouble for others, rather than themselves, should they be wise enough to continue their flight.

The elevator had reached the top of the shaft. As its door slid open, The Shadow swung toward the large globe that contained the single hall light. His hand performed a juggle with a drawn automatic. Catching the gun barrel, The Shadow slashed the b.u.t.t against the ceiling light.

Men from the elevator heard the crash, saw the light disappear. They sprang for The Shadow in the darkness, were met by something that they could not see-a shape that seemed all shroud and muscle, as it spilled them right and left. A streak of blackness swept into the elevator; the door went shut.

Racing down the stairway, the detectives hoped to cut off the unknown fighter's escape. By the time they reached the second floor, they had overshot their mark. The Shadow had stopped the elevator at the third. He was out through a window to the fire escape, taking the route by which the j.a.panese had already completed their flight.

A few blocks from the Hillview Apartments, a strange shape emerged like a creation from the fog, to enter a taxi that was parked near a corner. A hand shook the sleepy driver, a calm tone gave him a destination near the water front. The cabby came to life as if impelled by a ghost.

Unfortunately, the fog delayed the trip. Half an hour later, The Shadow left the cab waiting, while he prowled a neighborhood so thick with mist that even building walls were invisible.

By this time, the man who had called by telephone would be gone, making the search fruitless, even if The Shadow found the place from which the call had been made.

Returning to the cab, The Shadow gave the driver an address near the center of the city.

Chilled both by the fog and wonderment regarding his mysterious pa.s.senger, the driver had turned on the radio to while away his shivery moments.

A news flash arrived during that return ride. A local station was broadcasting an important announcement. All persons were urged to report any sign of a man answering to the description of Commander Rodney Prew. The creator of the Z-boat Barracuda was wanted for a known crime-the murder of a man named Carl Methron, otherwise known as J. H.

Wiggin.

The repeated words of that announcement covered the low, whispered laugh that toned in strange significance from the lips of The Shadow.

CHAPTER X. ALONG THE WATER FRONT.

IT was the next night, and fog again lay over Frisco. But the misty atmosphere was not the only message that had crept in from the Pacific. At dawn that day the Barracuda had appeared again, just off the coast some fifty nautical miles south of the Golden Gate. She had popped up in the fog, to lie awash while her masked crew boarded a pa.s.sing steamer, intent upon new deeds of piracy. This time, they had not been aided by traitors on board the steamer. They had cast a hooked rope up to the rail and managed a surprise arrival, headed by their broad-shouldered leader, whose wide jaw again displayed its iron thrust.

The attack had been an easy victory for Felix Sergon, but the fruits of conquest had proven small.

The very fog that had enshrouded the Barracuda, enabling her to roam at large, had caused Sergon to mistake a tramp freighter for a coastwise liner. Instead of wealthy pa.s.sengers and a cash-filled strong room, the pirates had found only a penniless crew and a mixed cargo that contained nothing more consequential than a shipment of canned goods.

Sergon had rifled those supplies. Estimates indicated that he and his fellow pirates had carried away enough Alaska salmon and California tuna to last them for a year. Unless their act had been merely the result of crooked instinct, it meant that they expected to defy all searchers for many months to come.

It was lucky for Sergon, perhaps, that he had not found the pa.s.senger liner he wanted.

During the fog, naval vessels were staying close to such ships, acting as their convoy. The freighter had been proceeding alone, and by the time she had radioed the news, the Barracuda was well away.

Meanwhile, there had been other news in San Francisco, sensational enough to sweep the entire country.

Dead Carl Methron had been identified as the silent partner of Commander Rodney Prew.

The murdered backer was definitely recognized as the only man, outside of the Z-boat's inventor, who could have revealed important data concerning the Barracuda.

The details of the Methron case were as follows: San Francisco police had been told that a man answering the description of Commander Rodney Prew had been seen, some days before, leaving the Hillview Apartments. Whom he had visited there was not known; nor had there been much likelihood of his return.

Nevertheless, two detectives had been a.s.signed to the apartment house, one to pose as doorman, the other as newsstand clerk.

Last night, prowlers had been reported on the fire escape. The detectives had hurried to the sixth floor, intending to begin investigation from the top downward. They had encountered darkness; with it, a mad fugitive who had gone through them like a whirlwind.

Chase had proven useless; but in apartment 6B the detectives had found a dead man-first identified as J. H. Wiggin; later, from papers on the body, as Carl Methron. A forgotten envelope in a suitcase, a small address book in Methron's pocket, had connected the dead man with Commander Prew.

Investigation proved that Methron had backed various commercial projects, with varying success. He made a specialty of aiding obscure inventors in the development of new devices, with a share of the profits as his return. There was every reason to suppose that Methron had put money into Prew's building of the Z-boat.

Examination of the body proved that Methron had been dead approximately twenty-four hours. That tied in with the sudden disappearance of Commander Prew, and produced atheory so ironclad that it was accepted as fact.

THE first a.s.sumption was that Commander Prew had personally ordered the theft of his own ship. Previously, the only motive attributed to Prew was a desire to sell the Barracuda to some higher bidder than the United States government.

Now, there was a second motive, upon which the first depended. Whatever Prew's underhand scheme, he would have had to keep it from his silent partner, Methron.

Obviously, he had decided to wait until the Barracuda was safely away before discussing the matter with Methron. He could have hoped to broach the subject cleverly, winning Methron over to the circ.u.mstance, provided all had gone well. But there had been trouble at the Sausalito pier. Not only had the Z-boat's departure been rapidly discovered; j.a.panese trouble makers had been seen on the grounds.

Prew's first knowledge of those circ.u.mstances had come when he had heard the radio news flash at his club. Prew had left there promptly, and at last the law knew the reason why. He could only have gone to see Methron, hoping to reach the promoter before the latter knew the facts.

Possibly Methron had already caught the news, for there was a radio set in his apartment. It was easy, in any event, to picture him listening to Prew's arguments and remaining unswayed. The one detail that Prew could not possibly have explained away was the presence of j.a.panese at the pier.

Finding Methron's patriotism too stanch, Prew had only one way to hush the man. That was by cold murder.

The fact that drove home the clincher to this theory was Prew's knowledge of Methron's whereabouts. For reasons of his own, perhaps fear of conniving enemies, Methron had adopted the name of J. H. Wiggin and had rented his apartment under that alias. It was the one place where he could slip to safety in time of stress, and the only person definitely known to be acquainted with the matter was Commander Rodney Prew.

The little address book with Prew's name in it did not prove the fact. That was probably why Prew had left it in Methron's pocket, for he could later deny any knowledge of Methron's alias or residence.

But the envelope, overlooked in Methron's suitcase, was addressed to J. H. Wiggin, with Prew's return address, and it was written in the missing commander's own hand!

From The Shadow's viewpoint, these facts had value. He was particularly pleased, however, because he had not been identified as the intruder who had crashed his way out through the sixth-floor hall.

Popular opinion held that the man who engineered that flight must have been Rodney Prew, secretly returned to the scene of his crime by way of the fire escape.

More than one man had been reported on the fire escape, hence it was supposed that Prew had followers. There, again, was a case of suppressed ident.i.ty, much to The Shadow's liking. Not a single person had guessed that the men on the fire escape had been j.a.panese.

The Shadow was weighing that lucky factor as he stalked the fog-laden darkness of the San Francisco water front. He had just made a call to his hotel, using the tone of Cranston, to learn that another person was also pleased because of the persuasive arguments that TheShadow had used with those j.a.panese who met him in Methron's apartment.

A valuable collection of ancient j.a.panese paintings had arrived at the hotel, addressed to Mr. Lamont Cranston. They had come from I. Soyoto Co., with a bill for thirty-five hundred dollars stamped "paid."

Just a token of Soyoto's appreciation, because The Shadow had helped his men out of a bad mess in which they did not belong. Nevertheless, the gift applied to that incident alone. It did not change The Shadow's a.n.a.lysis of Ishi Soyoto and his methods, where other matters were concerned.

Nor did it help The Shadow's present quest.

All day, he had been along the water front, loitering in the rough attire of a stevedore. He had located the telephone from which last night's call had been made. It was in the back room of a water-front dive, and could be reached by an alley exit without pa.s.sing through the main section of the grogshop.

Who was the man who had telephoned Methron, and why had he made the call?

There were several possible answers. One was strongest in The Shadow's mind, but it needed more facts to bolster it. All day, The Shadow had sought further evidence; when night came, he had donned cloak and hat to speed his work.

The Shadow's process was a constant patrol of the water front, on the chance that the man who had telephoned was located somewhere near.