Meanwhile The Shadow was moving deeper, knowing that his more skillful footfalls would be drowned by Roger's. Hearing the door creak after Roger's exit, The Shadow focused his flashlight on the important inner corner. Finding a loose piece in the tiled wall, The Shadow tested it, with no result.

Apparently the sliding floor had locked automatically. To operate, it would first have to be released from below. Probably Wiggam took care of that detail whenever visitors were expected, a good point for future reference. Turning, The Shadow moved from the mausoleum.

Roger wasn't very far ahead. The combined result of darkness, tombstones and applejack was making his course a stumbly one. The ghostly face that blinked from the back of Jennifer's cloak kept dipping and sidling in a rather ludicrous fashion.

There was no special point in following Roger further. From his direction The Shadow knew that he was going to a spot along the eaved wall of the mansion, just short of Margo's room. Last night, The Shadow had suspected that wallwhen Roger and Wiggam kept blazing their flashlights away from it. At that time they had been loading in their ghosts and wanted to blind any prowlers who might be on hand.

Later, The Shadow had seen the ghosts return, while everyone else was out front. He had watched the three men hurry to the mausoleum and file inside it.

It would be useless to trap Roger in the course of a prowl unless his three stooges were along.

Nevertheless, The Shadow was keeping fairly close to Roger when two chance circ.u.mstances combined to produce some startling results. Just as the dull moonlight gained an increase through the open walls of the old watchtower, a wayward wind rattled a cl.u.s.ter of thick gra.s.s.

The ghost face vanished.

Worried by the moonlight, startled by the rustle, Roger had turned around.

The ground was too dark to reveal The Shadow, even if Roger had been less befogged, but in turning, Roger swung the back of the ghostly deathhead toward the house. Unwittingly he was revealing his location to an observer other than The Shadow.

A WINDOW flew open on the middle of the second floor. At the sound, Roger wheeled and ran for the corner of the mansion. His mere act of turning caused another vanish of the luminous ghost mark that Roger unwittingly carried. To the man at the window, the effect was uncanny.

The Shadow made one guess regarding the man at the window and sprang for the shelter of the nearest tombstone, grabbing it as he had done before.

Having been left squarely in the path that the ghost face indicated, The Shadow had good reason to take cover.

A shotgun blasted, not once, but twice, its loads spreading wide enough to include the tombstone. Gustave was giving both barrels from a new shotgun, aiming at the spot where the glowing face had disappeared.

No damage was done.

Roger was away in time and The Shadow was ensconced behind the tombstone, which was tilting backward in the usual style. Yet The Shadow did not release his weight, for he knew the stone would stop, which it did. Clinging to it, The Shadow waited to learn if Gustave intended to unload more firearms from his a.r.s.enal, but the shooting was over, for the window clattered shut.

In her room, Margo heard the double roar and hurried to the door. She saw old Jennifer poke her head in sight as Clyde hurried past. Farther footsteps proclaimed Hector's arrival as the servant appeared from the far turn in the pa.s.sage.

The arrivals were met by Gustave, who stepped from the door of the Colonial Room, shaking so badly that he could scarcely hold his shotgun.

"I just saw a ghost!" Gustave might have been referring to himself, his face was so pale. "I fired at it twice and I think I wounded it!"

"Donald's ghost, of course," returned Jennifer. "But you can't harm Donald.

He belongs to the dead."

"I wouldn't hurt Donald," protested Gustave. "Really, if he came back, I'd welcome him!"

"The dead do return," reminded Jennifer. "Perhaps that is the reason foryour fear, Gustave."

Tightening his grip on the shot-gun, Gustave steadied.

"I meant if Donald returned to the living," he said. "But that would be too much to hope. Only I'm worried -"

"About the ghost?" sneered Jennifer. "Come with me, Gustave and we shall view your victim. I am not afraid to visit the graves where our loved ones sleep."

Gustave looked appealingly to Clyde who nodded for Hector to come along.

Margo decided to sit this one out, preferring her window to a trip to the weird cemetery. However, she had scarcely reached the window before she regretted her choice. From the pa.s.sage that the others had just left, came footsteps that to Margo's overstrained imagination were very, very ghostly!

Huddled by the window, Margo hoped that the creeping sound would go another direction. Briefly, they seemed to approach; then Margo heard them turn. As they started down the stairs, they suddenly become louder, making a very human clatter.

Her courage restored, Margo hurried to the door to see a figure turn the bottom of the stairway. Looking past the lamp in the little upstairs hall, Margo saw Jennifer's cape back on its hook.

Roger had returned!

FORTUNATELY for Roger's game, Jennifer had forgotten to look for her cloak because of her desire to reach the cemetery. So Roger was playing it still further by becoming himself again and chasing after the others to pretend that he had been slower in responding to the excitement that the shotgun caused.

The thing that troubled Margo was how Roger had returned. The Shadow had spoken of an exit on the second floor, but he hadn't mentioned where it was.

Back at her window, Margo saw Roger overtake the rest behind the house.

Then the moonlight became too blurred to distinguish their further progress.

Relaxing, Margo decided to let Clyde bring her further details.

The group reached the tilted tombstone.

Fixing her eyes downward, Jennifer murmured: "Poor Donald!"

Gripping his sister's arm, Gustave demanded excitedly: "What do you mean! I don't see Donald! Where -"

Jennifer was pointing to the tombstone. On it was carved the name of Donald Stanbridge with the dates of his birth and death.

"This is Donald's grave," reminded Jennifer. "I have visited it too often to forget it. Strange that you should have forgotten, Gustave. You buried Donald here."

Gustave muttered as though talking to himself. Turning away he ran squarely into Roger who placed a steadying hand upon his shoulder.

"Steady, Gustave."

"I wonder if I did see Donald!" Gustave's speech was suddenly coherent.

"Would he - could he return to look at his own tombstone?"

Eyeing his brother narrowly, Roger decided to make the most of the situation.

"Strange things can happen, Gustave," said Roger solemnly. "You are beginning to convince me, despite the explanations that we heard last night." Examining the tombstone, Clyde saw the scars of buckshot. He was standing beside the slanted slab when the others left, testing it to learn how easy it would wobble. It seemed probable that the charge from the shotgun had jarred it loose, but it was odd that the stone hadn't toppled farther.

Clyde was wondering about something else.

Since Roger had escaped intact, Gustave might have fired at some other person. Clyde drew a flashlight intending to spread its gleam along the ground.

A cloaked figure glided swiftly from beside a tree, its gloved hand gripped Clyde's arm. Clyde swallowed so hard that he seemed to rise in the air, but he returned to earth with a pleasant jolt when he heard the tone that whispered in his ear.

The arrival was The Shadow.

Noting that the rest had gone, The Shadow told Clyde to grip the tombstone and let his weight go with it. Gingerly Clyde did so, but the sickening sensation ended with a quick stop. Drawing Clyde toward him, The Shadow used his own tiny flashlight to disclose the crack between the stone and its base.

There Clyde saw the answer.

The upright stone had two stone dowels that fitted into holes in the base.

The holes were large and somewhat worn, enough so to allow considerable play.

But the tombstone could not topple further, because the two stone points were strong enough to stop it when they reached the limit of the sockets.

A sudden question popped to Clyde's mind. He expressed it.

"What about the stone that Zeph grabbed?"

"They are all alike," replied The Shadow. "One man's weight cannot haul them over. But if two men shoved hard from the other side, they could break those heavy pins."

"Two men found Zeph's body," recalled Clyde. "The two were Roger and Wiggam. Then they must have -"

"He was still alive when they found him," interposed The Shadow, "but dead when they reported their discovery. Zeph had met Dorthan, who probably stunned him. Roger preferred to make it permanent."

As capably as if he had heard Roger's own statements, The Shadow had called the turn. There was more about Roger that The Shadow wanted Clyde to know.

Leading his agent to the left wing of the house, The Shadow stopped midway along the wall and stooped to grip the lowest shingles.

As The Shadow lifted it, a section of the wall hinged upward, disclosing an entrance almost four feet wide!

THERE was enough moonlight now for Clyde to see how cleverly the entrance was concealed. It fitted the edges of the shingles, which formed right angled zigzags up the wall to the horizontal line where the hinges were. When The Shadow eased the trapdoor downward, it settled squarely in place.

"Between the parlor and the music room!" exclaimed Clyde. "But we measured them both and the total tallied with the pa.s.sage in the wing!"

"It was Roger who helped you measure them," reminded The Shadow. "That fact was underlined in Dunninger's report sheet."

"But how did Roger get away with it?" "With this." The Shadow placed a metal measuring tape in Clyde's hand. "I found it where Roger tossed it in the gra.s.s. He switched it for the regular tape, Burke, but only while you were measuring those two rooms."

The Shadow's tiny flashlight glimmered as Clyde pulled out the tape.

Under the glow, the trick disclosed itself. The tape had the first twenty-four inches clipped off. In checking the length at the other end, Clyde had measured two feet short in both rooms!

The Shadow hadn't needed to find the tape, for he had already spotted the hidden entrance to the mansion. But his find had exposed the clever method by which Roger had veiled the presence of the narrow secret room that lay between the larger ones. Having already explored the unknown room, The Shadow gave Clyde further details, to which the reporter listened, quite amazed.

During the telling, they were walking toward the back door. There, The Shadow gestured his agent into the mansion. The door closed and Clyde found himself alone, but he caught the whispered laugh that denoted the departure of his chief.

The ways of crime were known to The Shadow. His whispered laugh was a promise that crooks would soon be coaxed to their deserved disaster!

CHAPTER XIV.

THE GHOST TRAP.

THE next morning, Wiggam mailed Roger's letter. Always meticulous, Wiggam carefully affixed the stamp that he bought at the post office window and made sure the envelope was sealed before dropping it in the mail chute.

Wiggam was nodding pleasantly as he left the little post office.

Everybody in Coledale knew Wiggam by sight, so he was always cordial, though most of the people were strangers to him. But there was one stranger who did more than return Wiggam's nod. He greeted Wiggam and when the caretaker looked closely, he recognized the gentleman as Lamont Cranston, a recent visitor at Stanbridge Manor.

Cranston was driving up to the mansion, so Wiggam accepted his invitation to ride along. But not for a moment did Wiggam suspect that he had been right behind him in the line at the post office window. There, Cranston had read name and address on the letter. It was addressed to a man in Cleveland named Ralph Putney.

At the mansion, Cranston inquired if Margo intended to leave. She glanced at Clyde, who shook his head.

"We thought we saw a ghost last night," said Clyde. "It turned out to be only a tombstone, still it made a good story that I sent to the Cla.s.sic. It all belongs in the record, so I think Miss Lane ought to stay as long as I do."

Roger was approaching as Clyde finished. He gave a routine nod to Wiggam, then spoke to Cranston.

"All guests are welcome here," declared Roger. "Welcome to stay as long as they wish."

Cranston glanced from Margo to Clyde and asked: "How many days do you two intend to remain in the manor?" So slightly did Cranston stress certain words, that neither Roger nor Wiggam noticed it. But Clyde caught the emphasis and promptly took the cue.

"Two days more," responded Clyde. "That will give us a double chance towatch for ghosts."

"And to disprove their existence," added Roger. "I'm anxious to clear up these matters because poor Gustave is taking them too seriously."

In expressing concern for his brother, Roger overdid it. A short while later, Cranston and Clyde found a chance to chat alone, out by the porte-cochere. Cranston promptly referred to Roger's final statement, which pieced in with all previous deductions.

"They're working on Gustave," a.s.sured Cranston. "This means the ghost stuff again, with all its tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. Only Roger will take care that neither you nor Margo see too much."

"When will it hit?" inquired Clyde.

"Probably late tomorrow night," Cranston replied. "There's one special angle to these hauntings, Burke. They time them whenever another embezzler arrives here, so that if anyone sees him, he will be mistaken for a ghost. It happened that way with Dorthan; it will happen with Putney."

"But who is Putney?"

"You'll hear of Ralph Putney by tomorrow. He is doing some crooked work in Cleveland, or Roger wouldn't have bothered to write him. I saw the letter when Wiggam mailed it."

Cranston was turning away with one of his slightly cryptic smiles, which meant that Clyde would later learn what was in his chief's mind. Cranston was starting his car when he added: "I shall return tomorrow night."

ALL that day, Clyde had a problem with Margo. The Shadow had told Clyde to keep the details of the secret room to himself, so as not to worry Margo with facts she didn't need to know just yet. But Margo was worried anyway and kept telling Clyde so. She was sure that Clyde had learned something special and she wanted to know what it was.

Finally, Clyde calmed Margo's curiosity by telling her about the stones that had bounced down the front stairs. First he referred her to the report sheets that she had typed for Dunninger.

"Look at this, Margo," said Clyde. "It states: 'Ultraviolet test negative.'

Do you know what that means?"