What's the good of a synthetic gem if it costs you more than a real one? Wait a minute, though - with those rubies, if you wanted to match them, maybe you could do it at about double what they're worth."

Copley paused for a moment, as if considering his own statement.

"Nope," he decided, "it couldn't be done, even with the originals to copy from. The Seven Drops of Blood are too big."

THE SHADOW drew the envelope from his pocket. Out of it, he produced clippings which he pa.s.sed to Copley. On one of them, the jewel expert saw a picture of an elderly man with a white, spade-shaped beard. He chuckled.

"Old Professor Hanlock," identified Copley. "I'd know those whiskers anywhere. So you've fallen for his bunk, Mr. Arnaud. Whatever Antonius Hanlock says, is screwy. I've talked to the old boy."

"I suppose that you had," observed The Shadow. "One of those clippings states that certain of the professor's claims were substantiated by a dealer in imitation stones, who came from Cincinnati."

"Let me tell you about Hanlock," argued Copley. "The old prof started out with a lot of experiments. Built up some artificial rubies by an electric process. He managed a cheap job and got the right color into them. The thing that helped him was a special process involving chromium.

"That part of it was all right. That's why I said so. I kept going to see the prof - even though he moved to different places so much that it was always a tough job to find him again. He was promising that he'd produce bigger and better rubies; that he'd revolutionize the industry, with synthetic gems as big as doves' eggs, but costing under a thousand dollars at the most.

"Then one day, he told me how he'd do it. That was enough. I dropped him after that. His idea was to produce an artificial ruby that was like a honeycomb, little microscopic walls inside it. Filled with an oxide precipitate, a liquid thick like honey; and heavy, like mercury. He said that the sh.e.l.l would stand moisture; that it would take any heat test. I told him frankly that I didn't believe him. That's when he went violent. I was lucky to quiet him; but I knew he was off his trolley. Rather than try to humor him, I never went back."

The Shadow took one of the clippings that Copley held. He read an address that was printed there.

"It might be worth while to see Professor Hanlock," decided The Shadow.

"If he could actually match two of the Drops of Blood, it would serve two purposes. Not only would the exhibit be complete, but the crooks who still hold two of the rubies would be badly puzzled when the gems showed up elsewhere."

"You won't find Hanlock at that address," remarked Copley. "He's moved twice since he left there. I'd never have traced him except for a letter he wrote me about a month ago. He's down and out, he said - living in a bas.e.m.e.nt apartment with all his equipment there. Funny, him saying that he was down and out. It shows how his mind works. He couldn't be broke, because he had a lot of real gems and could hock them any time. Only he won't part with them."

Copley finished by producing pencil and paper. He scrawled Professor Hanlock's latest address, but remarked that he doubted that the old man would still be there. Copley was of the opinion that, by this time, friends must havetaken Hanlock away for a rest cure.

The Shadow thanked the man from Cincinnati; tendered him a fee for his services. Copley was pleased with the amount. He packed his sample case and departed.

THE SHADOW was pleased with the results of his interview with Copley.

Searching for a way to force all issues with the master crook, The Shadow had looked for certain information. Through old files, he had learned of Professor Antonius Hanlock; from Clark Copley, he had gained a lead to the old man's whereabouts.

Within the next twenty-four hours, The Shadow hoped to have new information that would reopen the trail to the master crook.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE CHOSEN TRAIL.

SHORTLY after noon the next day, The Shadow lunched in the coffee shop of the hotel where he was stopping as Arnaud. Glancing through a newspaper, he paused at the society page. There he found an item that pertained to himself.

It stated that Lamont Cranston would be back in New York this evening; that he would be present at a late after-theater banquet to be held in honor of a prominent actor.

The Shadow was not surprised to read the notice. He had forwarded it to the newspapers himself, last night after his chat with Copley.

There was another paragraph, however, that was news to The Shadow. It concerned Tobias Berkland. The oil magnate had gone to Boston to attend the wedding of an old friend, an elderly gentleman who was embarking upon a third venture in matrimony. Berkland had gone to Boston alone.

Berkland's trip was not a surprising one. The vigil had been lifted at his house as soon as the coroner's inquest had produced a favorable verdict in the deaths of Marotte and Doxol. Nevertheless, it produced comment on another page of the newspaper.

Reading the chatter of a wiseacre columnist, The Shadow found a statement that suggested Berkland's trip to be a blind. According to the column writer, Berkland could well have gone to Boston to keep an appointment with some informant; perhaps the man who held the sixth ruby.

It was good talk for the public, that suggestion; but it did not deceive The Shadow. He knew that the sixth ruby holder would not try the tactics used by Marotte and Doxol. They had referred to the fellow as one who had resolved to stick with the master crook.

AN hour later, The Shadow left the hotel. In his guise of Arnaud, he rode across town by cab, then took an elevated. He reached a location near the address where Professor Hanlock had last resided.

From then on, The Shadow's actions were deliberate. He did not approach the address that he wanted; instead, he sauntered about the neighborhood.

There were old houses, here; some of them had been converted into apartments. As Arnaud, The Shadow made inquiries at places where apartments were for rent. In every case, he registered disappointment when he learned of the rental.

Today, The Shadow looked the part of a man who might be short of money.

His clothes, though tidy, were old ones. When he pa.s.sed a news stand, he paused to count pennies carefully, then decided not to buy a newspaper.

Eventually, The Shadow came to the address that Copley had given him.There, he immediately noticed a rental sign on a window of the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Copley had conjectured that Professor Hanlock might have moved again. The Cincinnati man had made a good guess.

Any one watching The Shadow would not have been surprised to see him ascend the front steps of the old house and ring a bell marked "Janitor." As Arnaud, The Shadow had been steadily looking at apartments of a cheaper sort.

It was natural that he had come to this one, the lowest-priced lodging in the neighborhood.

A portly women answered the door, announced that she was the janitor's wife. The Shadow stated that he would like to look at the bas.e.m.e.nt apartment.

The janitor's wife supplied a steady comment.

"The last tenant was an inventor, sir," confided the woman, "or something of the sort. People what come here called him 'professor.' And a professor he might well have been with the forgetful way his eyes looked and the beard of his that reached to the bottom of his collar."

"Rather an unusual tenant," remarked The Shadow. "I suppose that he preferred seclusion, and probably spent a great deal of time with his books."

"Books? No, he made jewelry, the professor did," she informed. "That's what he said once, when I asked him. He showed me diamonds, and rubies. They looked like they was real. He said he'd made some of them, but that others was the regular sort. He used them to copy from.

"When he left here, it was sort of sudden. With a month's rent owing. He went one night, and his machinery and other things was took out by the movers.

My husband thought he had jumped the rent. But there was an envelope delivered the next day, here to me, and it had the money in it."

"Quite interesting," observed The Shadow. "I suppose that the professor had merely forgotten to pay his rent. Where did he go from here?"

"I don't know, sir. I wished I did know. I'd like to have thanked him for -".

The woman paused; studied The Shadow again, then questioned: "Do you know much about jewelry, sir?"

"Yes. Enough to identify the value of the average gem."

THE woman produced a handkerchief, unknotted it and placed a blue stone in The Shadow's hand. The jewel was a fair-sized sapphire, plainly cut with large facets.

"You know, sir," informed the woman, "the old professor said he expected to have money some day. He told me when he left he'd give me a real gem. When he sent the money, this was with it. Only I was afraid to show it to any one.

I.

thought maybe that it wasn't real. That maybe if it was, I'd be questioned if I.

hocked it; on account of the newspapers being full of talk about stolen jewelry."

The Shadow's sensitive thumb and forefinger were turning the gem between them. He paused in the motion, detecting a slight roughness on one surface of the stone. Holding the sapphire to the light, The Shadow remarked: "The stone is genuine. An excellent specimen for its size. As a collector, I would value it at two hundred and fifty dollars."

The woman gasped in amazement. The sum had overwhelmed her. She repeated the amount, half aloud.

"A p.a.w.nshop would not pay you a quarter of that sum," remarked The Shadow.

"As a collector, I am willing to give the full amount. Would you care to sell the sapphire?"

"For that money, sir? In a minute!"

The Shadow drew a shabby wallet from his pocket. He opened it, pushedback a stack of bills that were of fifty-dollar and one-hundred-dollar values.

Choosing a few twenties, he added tens and fives, made up the balance with some one-dollar bills. He counted the money into the hands of the astonished woman.

Pocketing the sapphire, The Shadow bowed and strolled out by the downstairs doorway.

Though his pace was deliberate, he was gone from sight by the time the woman peered out to the sidewalk. If any outside spy had been near by, he would have been too late to take up The Shadow's trail.

LATER, The Shadow reached his sanctum. There, he put the sapphire under a strong light and examined it with a microscope. The stone bulged to tremendous size under the powerful lens. The inspection told The Shadow that if the gem were synthetic, it represented a marvelous workmanship. It looked like a natural sapphire.

The similarity in chemical composition of sapphire and rubies indicated that the stone might be the product of Professor Hanlock's electric process; but The Shadow was more inclined to believe that it was a genuine gem that Hanlock used for comparison. The sapphire, however, possessed a feature that interested The Shadow more than did the composition of the stone.

Under the microscope, the roughened surface that The Shadow had felt was transformed into more than a mere series of scratches.

Carved on the side of the sapphire were figures, and letters that formed abbreviated words. They represented a street address. Though the marks looked crude, they were intelligible; and their making had certainly required expert effort. They had been inscribed under a microscope, with a diamond-pointed tool.

Placing the sapphire aside, The Shadow produced a large scale map of Manhattan. He put it beneath the bluish light that shone down in the sanctum.

There, The Shadow's long fingers traced to a given spot; it rested on a building that was shown in diagram on the map. The bluish light clicked off.

Soon afterward, The Shadow appeared on the street. He was Henry Arnaud no longer; he had resumed the guise of Lamont Cranston. He hailed a taxi and rode to Times Square; there, he transferred to a new, streamlined cab that was driven by Moe Shrevnitz.

The machine rolled smoothly toward the Cobalt Club; The Shadow was pleased with its pick-up. His purchase of a streamlined taxi showed foresight. The Shadow always wanted his cab to be inconspicuous, and the increasing popularity of the new type of taxi indicated that they would soon he more plentiful than the old styles.

Nearing the Cobalt Club, Moe slowed until other vehicles had pa.s.sed, then hugged the curb and stopped abruptly so The Shadow could alight. It was close to dusk and The Shadow was taking no chances while he appeared as Cranston. He knew that his guise was known to a master crook, who might already have bought up a machine-gun crew to mow down Lamont Cranston on sight.

ENTERING the grillroom, The Shadow ordered a well-selected dinner of the sort that the club chef delighted to prepare. He had a while to wait before the first course arrived. During that interval, The Shadow sat in speculation.

Today's circ.u.mstances had been unusual. In his acquisition of Professor Hanlock's sapphire, The Shadow had gained a clue that chance alone had kept from the law. At any time during the past few weeks, the woman who had receivedthe sapphire might have taken it to a jeweler or a p.a.w.nbroker. Any one examining the stone with a gla.s.s would have detected the engraved letters.

Had that sender foreseen that the janitor's wife would be afraid to p.a.w.n the gem for some time? Or had he counted upon the woman cashing in on the stone at once?

This question was important; like the others, it could not be accurately answered until further probe could be made. One fact alone was certain: The Shadow had acquired the sapphire sooner than it would normally have been gained by the law. Whoever had sent the gem had not antic.i.p.ated that the woman would sell it to a chance visitor who came to inquire about an apartment.

That was why The Shadow saw no reason for hasty action. He planned to visit the address named; and he intended to make that expedition some time this evening, under cover of darkness. He would be willing, however, to postpone his trip, if some other errand should present itself.

The first course of the meal arrived. The Shadow dined in leisurely fashion, quietly enjoying his repast. Following dessert, be ordered coffee and lighted a cigar, intending to finish the smoke before he set out from the club.

While The Shadow was smoking, an attendant entered and came to his table.

The Shadow's first thought was that of a message from Commissioner Weston, who was attending an evening reception but expected to see his friend Cranston later. Instead, the attendant presented a telegram.

The Shadow opened it; the yellow message was from Tobias Berkland.

The wire had been sent from Boston. It stated that Berkland would arrive home at eight o'clock, that he would like Mr. Cranston to visit him at that hour. The message carried the word: "Imperative!"

It was not surprising that Berkland should wish to see Cranston. Both were reputedly persons of wealth, who had a common interest in the collection of jewels. They had contacted at the time of the robbery at Pettigrew's; and Berkland, knowing that Lamont Cranston was a friend of Commissioner Weston might well regard The Shadow as a person close to the law.

There was a chance that hints in today's newspapers were correct: that, Tobias Berkland had gone to Boston on some mission that concerned the remaining rubies.

The situation promised a new trail - one that must be taken at once, if Berkland's telegram rated at its face value. Therefore, The Shadow decided to postpone the expedition that he had previously planned. He resolved to see Tobias Berkland first, to take up the matter of Professor Hanlock afterward.

With that purpose, The Shadow strolled from the club.

Events had given him a second trail, in preference to the first. The Shadow had chosen the new one. Where that chosen trail would lead depended entirely upon whatever The Shadow might learn at Berkland's.

CHAPTER XV.

MOVES IN THE NIGHT.

THE SHADOW made a prompt departure from the Cobalt Club. His limousine was absent tonight, but Moe's taxi wheeled up from a hack stand even before the doorman could summon it. Stepping in, The Shadow was whisked away in rapidfashion.

The cab nosed cautiously as it neared Berkland's. Peering from the window, The Shadow spied a policeman across the street from the house. The bluecoat was a special officer a.s.signed to this block, to be available if needed. The law was guarding against new trouble at Berkland's.

The policeman's presence eased The Shadow's approach. Much though a hidden supercrook desired the death of Lamont Cranston, he would be too wise to take the risk of posting a squad of gunmen at a spot where the law was on the watch.

The cab stopped at Berkland's. The patrolling officer became alert. He watched The Shadow ascend the steps and decided that the visitor was all right.

After The Shadow entered the house, the policeman came over to talk with Moe. At the officer's question, the cab driver stated that his fare had come from the Cobalt Club and had told him to wait outside Berkland's house.

It was Ungler who admitted The Shadow. The secretary looked a trifle perplexed, when he recognized Lamont Cranston. He began an explanation.

"Mr. Berkland is not at home, sir," said Ungler. "He is in Boston. He will not reach the city until after nine o'clock."