Blackness still seemed to smother her, and from its midst she could feel the grip of The Shadow's powerful hands. Somehow it all seemed very much a dream, particularly when Margo heard voices in the kitchen. She was actually in the room with her captors, being convoyed the few steps from a doorway to the cellar stairs. Surely they must notice the living blackness that was obscuring Margo!

They didn't.

Solid steps were under Margo's feet and Margo tiptoed down them. At the bottom, Margo looked back and saw complete blackness at the door above. This still might be a dream, but if it wasn't, that blackness was The Shadow, using his cloaked form to m.u.f.fle Margo's footfalls as well as mask her departure!

AT the kitchen table, Roger was laying out his plan. Over in the corner, Dorthan was tuning in a radio, keeping its tone low. Like the others present, Dorthan listened when Roger spoke.

"I'll go scouting with Wiggam," said Roger. "When the way is clear, we'll tap on the floor of the mausoleum. Bring the girl out and if there's any trouble, stick tight. We'll blind people with flashlights; we'll even fire shots if needed. Do you have a gun, Wiggam?"

Wiggam shook his head. Dorthan pulled a gun from his pocket and tossed it to the caretaker. He gestured to the radio.

"Get a load of this news report," said Dorthan. "It's got something to do with Putney."

"Where is Putney?" queried Roger, as he glanced about.

"He went up to his room," replied Wiggam. "He said he was going to count the money and bring it down here."

The radio suddenly took over.

"Flash!" announced the broadcaster. "Cleveland police have just discovered Ralph Putney, missing embezzler, bound and gagged in a hotel room. Whoever captured him overlooked the stolen money, which was found in a bag on the closet shelf -"

As Dorthan snapped off the radio, the others came to their feet. With one accord, they swung toward the cellar stairs, their full attention drawn by a sinister laugh that came from that direction. Staring in amazement, these ghost fakers saw something that really came up to the manifestations they had tried to imitate. Blackness solidified itself with a swirl, into a cloaked form with burning eyes beneath the brim of a slouch hat. Beneath those eyes loomed two cold spots, the muzzles of automatics. A huge .45 in each gloved fist, The Shadow stepped across the room, pivoting from his gun muzzles, which stayed constantly trained on the cl.u.s.tered crooks, with the exception of Dorthan, who didn't matter, since he had given his revolver to Wiggam.

Again that weird laugh, complete in its accusation. With a slight tilt of his head, The Shadow let the crooks glimpse his disguised face. He, too, was a master of make-up. His were the features of Ralph Putney.

"All right, Shadow, you win," sneered Roger. "You must have seen my letter and intercepted Putney so the coppers could take him. I knew it was you that came from the tower. You went after Crispin and now you've bagged all of us."

All the while, Roger was edging, as though to reach the front door which The Shadow blocked. His action was drawing The Shadow away from Dorthan, who gave Roger a short, quick nod.

"I should have known that Putney wouldn't come in on the train," growled Roger, edging farther. "I guess it brought you, when it stopped at Willow Glen tonight."

The Shadow's laugh was strange. It seemed to speak of the unfathomable, as though providing a solution. In fact, Roger's mention of the train was just the link The Shadow needed, toward answering a most amazing problem.

It was Dorthan's answer, too. The Shadow had gone far enough. Barehanded, Dorthan lunged for The Shadow's guns. The others, like deserting rats, turned the other direction, toward the cellar stairs, exactly where The Shadow wanted them to go, knowing that by this time Margo must have brought Clyde and an armed crew to the mausoleum that was the final outlet.

SOMETHING stopped those wheeling crooks.

It wasn't The Shadow's laugh, though that mirth broke with new crescendo.

Actually, The Shadow's tone was purely an accompaniment to the incredible thing the amazed men saw.

On the threshold stood another man with a leveled gun; behind him an old lady who cackled merrily.

The man with the gun was Donald Stanbridge!

"Yes, Roger, I've come back," announced Donald, in a crisp tone. "I came back to claim my heritage from Gustave, to learn that you were trying to usurp it in my stead. You see, Roger, I never was dead. Instead, my mind went blank.

"Gustave knew the family symptoms. It was the first step to a trance condition. When that struck, Gustave was quick to have me p.r.o.nounced dead, and summon specialists later. He had a corpse ready for burial in my stead. He shipped me away to an asylum under another name."

As Donald paused, Jennifer spoke across his shoulder.

"Through these years," she croaked, "Gustave has been living in mortal fear that Donald would regain his mind and come back. All the while something told me that Donald was not really dead. Tonight, Donald did return, and I knew the truth the moment that I saw him. When Gustave tried to kill him, he fled to my room. I found him there and kept him. We went to the mausoleum later."

Again, The Shadow laughed. He had a.n.a.lyzed Gustave's ways far furtherthan had Jennifer. Tonight, the dispute between Roger and Dorthan had made it plain that another man must have figured Roger's mention of the stopping train linked with the story of Donald's real return.

Roger wheeled at The Shadow's laugh, to see the cloaked fighter holding Dorthan in a pretzel twist. The Shadow had been ready all along for that bare-handed lunge. Yet Dorthan, with his back-twisted arms, was forcing The Shadow's guns far out of aim. Roger shot a quick look at Crispin and Freer.

"Get The Shadow!" snapped Roger. "Wiggam and I will handle Donald."

With a fling, The Shadow sent Dorthan clear across the room, carrying the kitchen table with him. Hitting head-on, Dorthan landed senseless. So did Crispin and Freer, before they had their guns half drawn. The Shadow met them with hard, cold strokes from his heavy automatics.

This wasn't helping Donald. Slow with a gun, the eldest brother was falling away from Roger's charge. With a swing that avoided Donald's aim, Roger drove in from one side, with Wiggam from the other. There was a murderous gloat in Roger's eyes as he brought his gun to bear.

Another gun spoke first. Jolting, Roger twisted toward the wall, to see Wiggam facing him, with smoke curling from the gun that Dorthan had loaned him.

As Roger sagged, Wiggam spoke slowly, sadly.

"I killed Mr. Gustave, there in the dining room," said Wiggam. "I, too, recognized Mr. Donald and I could not allow him to be harmed any more than I could now. You are no longer my master, Mr. Roger, now that your brother has returned. I aided your wrong deeds only because I acknowledged you as the real head of the Stanbridge family. But I was wrong -"

Roger's hand interrupted with a convulsive upward thrust which carried to its trigger finger. Neither The Shadow, free of his adversaries, nor Donald, springing from the other side, could reach Roger in time to stop the gun stab.

With the effort, Roger slumped dead, while Wiggam, straight in the path of the gun's last aim, went to one knee, his hands clutching his side.

It was a mortal wound, as Wiggam's wince declared. Nevertheless, the caretaker forced his lips into a smile. As Donald reached him with supporting hands, Wiggam looked up and said: "Do you remember my nephew, Mr. Donald? He's a true Wiggam... like the rest of us. He'll serve you... the way I did... the way all Wiggams serve the master of Stanbridge Manor -"

Men were coming from the cellar stairs, with Clyde Burke in the lead. Dr.

Torrance suddenly pushed past, to reach Wiggam. Seeing the coroner, Wiggam spoke again, repeating the confession he had made before, and adding that he had slain Roger in addition to Gustave.

It was only then that Torrance saw Donald and stared in profound amazement, until through his mind came recollections of Gustave's comments that very afternoon. As Torrance recalled them, they were veiled admissions that Donald was still alive.

Torrance's men were rounding up the stupefied embezzlers. They stopped and stared at one another as they caught the tone of a strange, departing laugh.

Arrived at the top of the cellar steps, Margo looked beyond the group and saw that Wiggam's front door was open. It was from that outer darkness that the strange laugh came.

It was repeated, that triumphant mirth, in a car that coasted down thesunken road. Across his shoulder, The Shadow looked back at the gaunt, ancient building known as Stanbridge Manor, with its open tower pointing to the scudding clouds that fleeced the moonlight.

Stanbridge Manor had regained its rightful master, thanks to The Shadow's conquest over ghostly crime!

THE END.