A gun jerked from his pocket.

"The criminal must be somewhere inside the grounds," he shrilled. "We've got to find him - and kill him!"

He started to race forward through the darkness. Kilby and Swade followed.

They were glad to let Minter lead the way. Especially Swade. Swade was more convinced than ever that The Shadow was a living menace somewhere in the blackness ahead.

THE SHADOW didn't hear any of this conference. He had circled silently back to the thicket where he had seen the foxy Kilby cache a satchel and a stolen cloak. It was imperative to move that blackmail loot a third time, if the money was to be saved for the deluded Jonah Minter.

But a surprise awaited The Shadow when he bent down to reach for the loot. It was gone!

So was the black cloak and the slouch hat which Kilby had left beside it.

For an instant, The Shadow remained motionless. Then he divined the truth. Kilby could not have made this latest grab. He had sneaked back to Minter to rivet his faked alibi. Nor could Swade have been responsible.

There was only one answer to the riddle. An ugly name flamed in The Shadow's mind.

k.n.o.bs Maletto!

Maletto was acting under the sly orders of Anthony Kilby. The message the thug had tried to swallow when The Shadow had nabbed him had made that fact clear. Maletto must have escaped from the hastily tied bonds of The Shadow.

The thought had scarcely entered the brain of The Shadow when he whirled swiftly. He had heard the faint sound of a crackling twig.

Whirling, he saw the pale glimmer of a face at the edge of the thicket. k.n.o.bs Maletto was peering viciously at The Shadow above the gleam of an aimed gun.

The thug fired instantly. Twice his gun spat scarlet. Two heavy slugs ripped through the spot where The Shadow had been standing.

It was a spot that was no longer occupied. The Shadow had flung himself to the ground with almost the same motion that had whirled him around in the direction of his peril.

He was up an instant later. He could hear Maletto fleeing. Both of The Shadow's .45s jutted ominously as he raced after the fugitive thug. His hope was to cut off Maletto from an escape to the stone wall of the estate. It was a hope that was doomed to failure.

The Shadow was the one who was suddenly cut off from the wall!

With shrill cries, three figures burst from the bushes. The crash of Maletto's gunfire had guided them.

Foremost of the three was Jonah Minter. He had a pistol in his trembling hand. He sent lead streaking through the darkness at the cloaked figure he had brought to bay.

"The Shadow!" Minter screamed. "Kill him!"

He was certain that The Shadow was the crook who had stolen the money satchel. Swade thought so, too. His pistol made hammering, echoes alongside the gun of Minter.

Anthony Kilby was the only one of the trio who realized what was going on. The presence of The Shadow warned Kilby that k.n.o.bs Maletto was in peril. Unless The Shadow could be cut down swiftly by lead, the precious satchel in Maletto's possession might be lost.

Kilby fired as vengefully as his two companions.

It was an onslaught that The Shadow easily avoided. The nervous shooting of three overeager men slanted too high to do any harm.

But The Shadow had to retreat toward the house. It was the only path open for him to escape.

He had to do more than escape! He had to regain his bedroom swiftly and change back to the role of Lamont Cranston before his deception was discovered.

It seemed like an impossible task.

The coil of rope, wound around the body of The Shadow beneath his robe, was now useless. To climb the oak to which he had swung from the slanting roof of the mansion, was impossible. Pursing enemies were too close to his heels to give The Shadow a chance for such a stunt, even a.s.suming that he could reverse his dangerous rope swing from tree to tree high above the ground.

Some other method was needed.

THE SHADOW made up his mind instantly. He raced through the darkness toward a spot directly below the open top-floor window where Lamont Cranston was supposed to be lying in a drugged sleep.

But there was sense in The Shadow's seeming panic. The coiled length of rope snaked swiftly frombeneath his cloak. He thrust it out of sight under a nearby bush.

But not all of the rope has hidden. Deliberately, The Shadow allowed an end to project from the black ma.s.s of the clump, where it could be easily spotted.

A swift bound brought him closer to the house. Kneeling for a moment, he leaned toward a small window. It was a cellar window, close to the ground. It was fastened snugly on the inside.

The fastening didn't deter The Shadow. A small, edged tool put swift and powerful pressure on the window. The fastening broke under that pressure. The sash was noiselessly lifted by black-gloved hands.

However, The Shadow did not take advantage of this swift piece of housebreaking. He had a desperate need to enter the mansion of Jonah Minter; but not yet. Deception was still his main purpose. He did not enter the dark cellar. Turning, he faded behind an enormous lilac bush.

He was just in time. The branches of the lilac bush had scarcely stopped quivering when his three pursuers came racing around the corner of the house.

The Shadow had left an easy trail in the soft turf that bordered this side of the house. Minter started to rush heedlessly ahead, too excited to notice anything.

Swade stopped him with a sharp yell. He pointed to the rope end projecting from the covert where The Shadow had planted it.

The next instant, Kilby's cry was added to Swade's. He was pointing to the cellar window.

"We've got him!" Kilby cried. "He's run to cover... inside the house!"

"But why!" Minter gasped. "Why should The Shadow force a way into my cellar! He's trapped! It's the worst possible place he could have chosen for an escape."

"I'll tell you why!"

The words came from Simon Swade. His eyes were as hard as diamonds. He pointed upward. The others followed the direction of his finger.

"The Shadow ducked into the cellar," Swade snarled, "because The Shadow is... Lamont Cranston!"

There was a gasp of amazement from Minter. But the sound Anthony Kilby uttered was one of grim comprehension. He knew what Swade meant, and he agreed with that deduction.

A single window was open on the top floor of the house. All the others were closed. The open one belonged to the bedroom where Cranston was supposed to be inert in a drugged sleep.

"That window was locked after Cranston went to bed," Swade whispered. "I know! I made sure.

Cranston must be The Shadow! He faked the drugged sleep. He slid down from the top-floor window on this rope. But he didn't have time to climb back again. He hid the rope in that bush and crashed in through the cellar window."

The interchange of words took only a moment. Swade darted for the cellar window. Gun in hand, he squirmed cautiously through, followed by Kilby and Minter. The trio began a swift examination of the black cellar behind the glow of a flashlight.

In the darkness outside, The Shadow rose silently from invisibility. An instant later, he moved upwardthrough the air.

He was climbing to a window of the first floor. A porch projection afforded him an easy handhold. His leg braced itself, allowed him to climb swiftly. A shining little tool moved toward the sash to force the window open.

It wasn't necessary. The unlocked sash lifted easily. The Shadow slid over the sill to a soft rug inside. He melted quickly through the room and up the sweep of a broad staircase.

All he seemingly had to do now, to be safe, was to reach his own room. But The Shadow knew better than that. He raced for the room directly below his own.

Its window was locked. The Shadow released the catch and opened the window from the inside. There were two windows open, now - this one, and his own window directly above.

He intended this lower window to remain open.

He knew he had no time to regain the staircase. He had to reach his room from the outside - or risk running into his foes on the stairs.

HIS questing arms stretched high above his head as he balanced himself on the sill, with his face toward the house wall. He wasn't tall enough to reach the sill above with his outstretched fingers. But he was clever enough, and bold enough, to make up for the few inches of lack by taking a dangerous chance.

He reached for the tough tendrils of ivy that cl.u.s.tered in a dark ma.s.s on the vertical surface of the wall. If the ivy ripped loose under his weight, The Shadow risked a long fall and a broken back. But he also knew that he only required barely two quick upward clutches at the st.u.r.dy vine.

He made it because he didn't allow himself a split second of hesitation. His upward leap helped the swift clutch of his hands.

A tendril ripped loose, but it didn't matter. The Shadow was now hanging by a tight double grip from the stone edge of the top-floor sill. He chinned himself swiftly, bellied into his own dark room The moment he was inside, be closed the window. He snapped the fastening tightly. Then he began swiftly disrobing.

Seconds later, he was in bed with the covers over him. He breathed deeply, trying to slow the rapid beat of his heart. He could hear an approaching rush of feet in the corridor outside.

Then the k.n.o.b of his door whirled. Three panting men burst pell-mell into the room.

It was Swade who clicked on the electric switch and flooded the room with light. It was Kilby who stared at the window.

Both men's jaw dropped in stupefaction.

Kilby saw that the window was closed and locked on the inside. Swade saw that Lamont Cranston was naked except for pajamas, as the latter sat up dazed and blinking under the sudden light.

"Wha - what's... the matter?" be yawned.

He looked at Minter. But Minter couldn't say a word. It was Swade who faked a hasty excuse.

"Burglars!" he cried. "Somebody tried to get into the house! Minter heard a noise and called us. We randownstairs, saw a forced cellar window, saw that your bedroom window was open, too. We were afraid the burglar might have entered your room and... er... harmed you."

Lamont Cranston yawned.

"You must be seeing things, gentlemen. My window hasn't been open tonight. I was so infernally sleepy after that spiced wine I drank that I didn't bother unlocking the window when I tumbled into bed. Are you sure that it was my window you saw open?"

He swung his bare feet to the floor, walked sleepily to the sash, unlocked it, lifted it. He stuck out his bare head.

"Oh, I see now, That's what must have happened. You were looking at the window directly below mine.

That's the open one. In the darkness you probably confused it with mine."

They all looked out and down. There was nothing they could say. They had seen only one open window on this side of the house - and there it was. Still open! The window below Cranston's!

By this time the noise and excitement had been heard by servants. Pellman appeared, looking pale and worried.

"A burglar," Swade informed the butler harshly. "He broke into the house, but he apparently got out again. Better send some of the servants to beat through the grounds, in case he is still there."

"Very good, sir," Pellman said.

The search produced no trace of a burglar. The only prowler who might conceivably have been caught was k.n.o.bs Maletto. But Maletto was already a long way off.

BEHIND the wheel of a speedy little car, k.n.o.bs Maletto was heading toward Manhattan.

On the floor of the car, close to his feet, was a leather satchel. Occasionally, k.n.o.bs glanced down at it and grinned.

He had done a slick job for his boss, Anthony Kilby. The Shadow had not been able to interfere with a smooth little highjack that had cost the clever Simon Swade a half share of fifty thousand bucks. The Shadow had been nicely foxed!

Thus thought k.n.o.bs Maletto.

The Shadow had a different idea. The Shadow understood at last what was going on. His visit to the Long Island estate of Jonah Minter had been successful. The sibilant laughter of The Shadow was proof of that.

He needed only one additional piece of knowledge to complete his case.

CHAPTER XII. A CUNNING DECISION.

ANTHONY KILBY was in high spirits.

He sat at the desk in his consulting room, chuckling. He was so pleased that it was impossible for him to sit long at the desk. He got up and began to pace the room.

Every few minutes he glanced at his watch. Time moved slowly, but he could afford to wait. It was a pleasant kind of delay. Like waiting for Christmas. Finally Kilby left his consulting room.

He walked to the main wing of his home and back to the kitchen. There was no sign of Oliphant in the butler's pantry. Nor was the cook in her kitchen. Kilby sat down at the kitchen table and lit a cigar. His sly grin widened.

It was no accident that Oliphant and the cook were not on hand to disturb him. Both had been given the day off. They had been pleased at the generosity of their employer, but not half as pleased as Kilby was.

He kept waiting for the ting of a bell.

Presently he heard it, a quick, furtive buzz at the back door through which tradesmen brought groceries and supplies for the house.

Kilby sprang swiftly to the rear door and opened it. A figure slid inside. The door closed hastily behind him.

The visitor was k.n.o.bs Maletto.

"Well?" Kilby said.

There was a heavy leather satchel in Maletto's hand. His grin matched Kilby's.

"It ain't paper cups, boss!" he said with husky triumph.