The Shadow smiled. He produced the telegram that he had received at the club. Ungler's manner altered. "That explains it!" exclaimed the secretary.

"Come up to the study, Mr. Cranston."

They reached the study. There, Ungler picked up a memo that he had written and placed on Berkland's desk. The Shadow read the message. It was addressed to Glen Mogridge and was signed by Tobias Berkland. The message stated: Request caller to come to Tatterman's for his appointment. Imperative!

Ungler explained that the message was a copy of a telegram that had just been telephoned to the house. He added an apology.

"Since the message mentioned no person by name," said Ungler, "I did not know that it referred to you, Mr. Cranston. That is why I did not mention it when you entered. I thought it better to let you introduce the subject."

"QUITE right, Ungler," agreed The Shadow. "Nevertheless, you told me that Mr. Berkland would not arrive until after nine o'clock. My appointment, however, calls for eight."

"I can't understand it, sir," admitted Ungler. "Mr. Berkland is due at Grand Central Terminal at half past nine. It is odd that he did not inform us that he was taking an earlier train from Boston."

The Shadow observed that the telegram made no mention of the appointment hour. He noted the name Tatterman and recognized it.

"Does that mean Tatterman, the jeweler?" questioned The Shadow. "The chap who had the little downstairs office on a side street near Grand Central?"

"It probably does," replied Ungler. "Mr. Berkland deals with Tatterman.

The shop is open evenings. What is more, sir" - Ungler was unfolding a time-table that lay on the desk - "there is a train from Boston that arrives soon after eight o'clock. If Mr. Berkland is on it, he might have decided to go directly to Tatterman's."

"I shall go there at once," declared The Shadow. Again noting the message, he added a question: "Will Mr. Mogridge be there?" "I don't suppose so," replied Ungler, in a worried tone. "Mr. Mogridge was not home for dinner and I do not know where to reach him. He left this afternoon to meet Inspector Cardona. The police are making an investigation of p.a.w.nshops that fenced some jewels recently. They are questioning the proprietors about such men as Marotte and Doxol."

"Then no one but you knows of this telegram?"

The Shadow's question was casual, but it brought a suppressed twitch to Ungler's lips. The secretary replied: "No, sir. No one."

The Shadow walked through the library, with Ungler accompanying him. They descended to the ground floor and The Shadow departed by the front door.

AS the taxi pulled away, Ungler stood peering from a little window beside the door. A tightened expression came to the secretary's face. His eyes followed the departing cab with a catlike gaze.

Ungler, perhaps, had told the truth when he said that no one else had seen the second telegram from Berkland. The secretary's statement, however, was undergoing amendment at the very moment of The Shadow's departure.

A door had opened on the second floor. Lenore Berkland stole softly to the head of the stairs, looked down to see Ungler peering from the lower window.

Swiftly, the girl went through the library and reached the study.

There she saw the message. She read it, then hurriedly took the telephone and dialed a number. A thickish tone responded. Lenore recognized Woolford's voice.

"Lawrence!" uttered Lenore, tensely. "You must go at once to Tatterman's.

For some reason, father intends to be there. It may be another of his foolish appointments."

"What of it?" came Woolford's response. "Tha.s.s for the police to look after - not me. I'm not walking in on trouble again. No, shir."

"You've been drinking again, Lawrence -"

"No, I haven't, Lenore. Honest! Well, maybe a couple -" Woolford's tone had steadied. "But that's all. Don't worry about your father. He'll be careful."

"But I am worried. Lawrence, unless you promise -"

"Wait, Lenore. You promise me something. Stay right where you are, until I.

come there. Then we can talk this over."

Lenore looked at the message on the desk. She noticed that it specified no time. Remembering that her father had not intended to reach New York before half past nine, Lenore replied to Woolford: "All right, Lawrence. I'll wait."

As she hooked the receiver, Lenore happened to spy the time-table that Ungler had left on the desk. In methodical fashion, the secretary had used a pencil to check his reference. Lenore saw a mark beneath the time of the train that arrived soon after eight.

The desk clock showed that the train was due within five minutes. If Lenore's father came on it and went to Tatterman's, he would be there before Woolford could even reach the house.

Lenore heard footsteps coming from the library pa.s.sage. She made an instantaneous decision. She hurried through the doorway that led to the side stairs. Stealing down the steps, Lenore reached the side door. She went through the outside pa.s.sage to the rear street. Already dressed for the street, Lenorehad decided to undertake a prompt mission alone.

UNGLER, meanwhile, had entered the study. His face drab and expressionless, the secretary stood looking at the telegram, then the time-table. Three minutes ticked from the desk clock. Slowly, Ungler went from the study, up to the third floor.

When he returned, he was wearing a felt hat. The secretary went downstairs, through the kitchen and out by the back door, which he locked behind him.

More than five minutes before, Lenore had hurried to a corner.

Ungler took the same route. Lenore, however, had gone un.o.bserved. Ungler did not.

From a blackened house front across the street, keen eyes saw the secretary pa.s.s beneath a street lamp. Silently, a stalking figure followed Ungler's course.

The man reached the corner, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was being trailed by a being cloaked in black.

Ungler crossed the avenue and stopped beside a northbound bus sign. He waited patiently, watching an approaching bus that was some blocks distant.

The Shadow did not wait for the bus to arrive. He returned along, the street, stepped momentarily into view beside a light. From another corner, a streamlined taxi rolled slowly along the rear street. The Shadow boarded it from the darkness. The cab swung southward as it reached the corner.

The bus had arrived. Ungler was entering it. As The Shadow's cab crossed the next corner, another vehicle approached it. This was a taxicab, slowing to make a left turn. From the darkness of his own cab, his cloaked form unnoticeable, The Shadow observed the occupants of the taxi that was turning into the street that ran in front of Berkland's.

There were two men in the cab. One was Joe Cardona; the other was Glen Mogridge.

THE SHADOW ordered Moe to halt by the curb, then to back up after the other taxi had made its turn. Moe followed the order. As the cab backed to the corner, The Shadow gained a view of Berkland's house. He saw Cardona and Mogridge alight from their cab.

Cardona talked briefly with the officer on duty. From his observation, The Shadow deduced that the bluecoat was telling them that a visitor had come from the Cobalt Club, and departed soon afterward. The officer knew nothing else.

Neither Cardona nor Mogridge seemed hasty, when they entered the front door of the house. They did not stop to ring. Mogridge simply unlocked the front door.

The Shadow knew that the pair were due for a surprise, when they found Ungler absent. Whether they would find the secretary's written version of the second telegram, was a matter of conjecture. Ungler might have carried it with him.

If they found the telegram, action would follow, but not with undue haste, for the message was one that would command some deliberation. Time still remained for The Shadow's own purpose. Quietly, the cloaked pa.s.senger gave an order. The cab started Southward.

A soft laugh whispered from The Shadow's lips. He foresaw a new adventure; one that could be handled best by wise approach. This time, The Shadow was confident that his work would not be complicated by the presence of chance persons.

Had The Shadow stationed himself in the rear street a few minutes earlier,he would have planned a different course. He had made a logical time allowance in watching for Ungler's departure, but his calculation had not allowed for Lenore Berkland.

The Shadow was to encounter problems that he had not foreseen.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE MEETING PLACE.

SOON after The Shadow's departure from the neighborhood of Berkland's, a cab stopped on a side street near Forty-second and Lexington Avenue. The pa.s.senger who alighted was Lenore Berkland. The girl had made a speedy trip from the corner near her father's house.

Despite its closeness to a lighted zone, this street was a desolate one.

The side wall of a fortresslike hotel flanked it for two hundred feet; after that came old houses, gloomy and poorly tenanted. Across the street was a bakery shop and a little book store, both closed for the night. Next to them came a house, with a high first floor that had been transformed into a cheap barber shop.

The rest of the building was unoccupied, except for the bas.e.m.e.nt; but that lower floor was Lenore's destination. Through its barred and curtained windows, the girl could see the glimmer of a light.

Few cars came along this street, for it was badly paved and traffic avoided it. A cab happened past just as Lenore was about to cross. The girl stepped back, then saw that the entire block was clear. She paused, however, conscious of a sc.r.a.pe on the sidewalk close beside her.

Lenore saw a pair of large ash cans that some neighbor had politely stowed underneath the high front steps of the nearest empty house. The sc.r.a.pe had sounded like a shift of metal. The girl shuddered, wondering if some creature lurked behind the cans.

Believing herself a victim of strained imagination, Lenore forced a smile and crossed the street. She reached the bas.e.m.e.nt store, saw the name "Tatterman" in faded gilt letters.

PUSHING open the door, Lenore looked about, expecting to see Tatterman.

She had met him here with her father. Tatterman was a withered old fellow who hobbled about and was always cordial to his customers. At present, he was not in the little store.

The girl saw a door that stood ajar; it was marked "Private," and indicated an inner office. She supposed that she would find Tatterman there.

The absence of any one in the main room did not surprise Lenore, for she knew how Tatterman did business. The old jewel dealer kept all his gems in a modern, strong safe. The girl knew that the safe was in the inner office, for in the past visits, she had seen Tatterman come from that room, bringing jewels. He always took great care to keep the outside door locked, when he displayed gems for customers.

Realizing that her father might already be in the inside office, Lenore rapped at the partly opened door. A sharp voice called: "Come in!"

Lenore went through a small entry, which had no door at the inner end.

She stopped as she crossed the threshold of a little room, where a man was seated at a desk near the safe.

Lenore stared in surprise, for she knew that the man was not Tatterman.The jeweler was frail and had a forward stoop; but the man at the desk was brawny and big-shouldered.

The man turned about suddenly; he displayed an ugly face that was coa.r.s.e and chunky of feature. Lenore saw a pugilist's chin, a wide nose, a pair of eyes that glared from beneath heavy brows. The man's black hair was thick and moppy. A brawny hand swung into view; clenched, it held a .38 revolver.

The man leered when he saw the fright that Lenore could not conceal. The words that he uttered were no longer an imitation that would have suited Tatterman. They came with a gruff snarl.

"A moll, huh?" quizzed the ruffian. "Guess you must be Berkland's daughter."

Lenore did not reply. She showed her nerve, as she faced the enemy who had trapped her.

"Sit down!" growled the chunky-faced man. "Over in that corner!"

Lenore did not budge. She learned her mistake when the man's hand swooped from its pocket.

With a quick, clamping motion, the ruffian plastered a wide strip of adhesive tape over her mouth. Lenore tried to wrench the tape away; when her captor grabbed her arms she clawed at his face.

For half a minute, she put up a valiant fight, but her battle was useless.

Having effectively prevented her from making future outcry, the man was able to use both hands in binding the girl. He pinned Lenore's arms behind her, trussed them with a length of rope. Spilling her into the chair, he caught her kicking feet and tied them likewise.

The man went to the entry; Lenore heard him close the door that opened from the store. While he was gone, she looked to the back of the room, but saw no door there. There was a little window, high up, but it was closed with a steel shutter. There was no other opening in the paneled walls.

WHILE Lenore was viewing the closeness of her prison, the man returned.

"So you're Berkland's daughter," he grunted. "The big-shot said you might be sap enough to blow in here, although he didn't want it. Say - I guess I ought to be introducing myself to a ritzy dame like you. They call me Spark Lethro. I'm the bozo who makes a specialty of stringing the wires and shoving through the juice when the soup's all set. Blowing these things is my business."

He gestured toward the big safe.

"I'm the guy that blew up the escape tunnel at Pettigrew's auction house.

If you don't believe it, take a gander at this."

The crook produced a ruby from his pocket. As he held it to the light, Lenore recognized the gem as the sixth Drop of Blood.

"Tonight, we're getting a lug who calls himself The Shadow," announced "Spark." "As soon as he blows in here, The Shadow's through. I'll tell you why.

We've got the joint souped for him; not just in one spot but half a dozen - all on the same time switch. Old Tatterman was called out of town today. I came in by a back way that the big-shot knew about. I fixed the joint and opened up the store."

Lenore realized the meaning of the telegram on her father's desk. It was a false one, sent by someone other than her father. Somehow, she supposed, word of it was supposed to reach The Shadow. Though she did not connect The Shadow with Cranston, Lenore recalled that the cloaked being had actually been in her father's house. She decided that crooks must have gained news that The Shadow intended to visit the house again.

"When The Shadow comes in," chuckled Spark, "he'll try to pick his way through the door I just locked. That's going to take him plenty of time. I rigged it even better than Tatterman had it. Put another lock on the inside -"

A m.u.f.fled buzzer sound interrupted. Spark pocketed his ruby; he fished back of the safe and produced a small switch that was affixed to the end of a wire. He held it in his left hand.

"This does it," announced Spark. "Five minutes after I give the juice, the joint goes up! Maybe The Shadow will still be working on the door; maybe he'll be through here. It don't matter either way; he won't know the difference.

Neither will you. The bulls is going to think some b.o.o.b tried to blow Tatterman's safe and went haywire with the soup.

"Maybe you wonder why I'm waiting, after hearing that buzz from the front door. I'm waiting to make sure it's The Shadow. There's a guy that's going to tip me off if it's him. He's casing the joint from across the street, the guy is. His name's Crawley Juke; and he can spot anybody, even The Shadow."

TO Lenore's frantic brain came a recollection of the noise behind the ash cans on the other side of the street. The man who had hidden behind the ash cans must be Crawley Juke. Spark said that Crawley would give the tip-off.

That meant that the lurker must intend to come in by the back way that Spark had mentioned. Lenore realized why the lurker had stayed in his hiding place. He was watching for The Shadow.

If The Shadow had actually entered a few minutes ago, Crawley would arrive at any moment; unless the lurker had failed to see The Shadow. That seemed unlikely. Any motion of Tatterman's front door would certainly have been observed by Crawley.

Lenore fought against her bonds. Her struggles were hopeless. Though she continued to tug at the binding ropes. Lenore realized that the only chance to thwart Spark lay with The Shadow. If he managed to crack the pa.s.sage door before Spark pressed the switch, The Shadow might still become a factor.

A thumping series of knocks gave Lenore a sudden hope. Sight of Spark's responding grin told the girl that the sound-signaled disaster instead of rescue. There were seven of the raps; Lenore did not locate the first ones. By the time they had finished, she recognized that they came from the paneled wall at the rear of the room, not from the barred door at the front.

The signal was from Crawley Juke. The spotter was giving the tip-off. The person who had entered the front was positively The Shadow.