"He probably gave the Chinese nothing but blanks," explained Cranston, with a smile, "except tonight, when he wanted his dupes, the Dragon Cult men, to be captured and blamed for the murders done by chaps like Garvin and Feldon. Tonight, I would say, all the papers bore the symbol of Shang Chou."

Remembering that The Shadow had looked at the slips one night ago, and tonight as well, Chenma suddenly decided that Cranston's theory must be right.

"But we were looking for Chinese," reminded Weston. "Chinese who could have lived outside of Chinatown -"

"But who disappeared so amazingly," put in Cranston, "that they couldn't have been Chinese, at all."

He specified his points. At Dayland's, the trail had ended in the servants' quarters. There, Garvin, Feldon, and the rest had simply peeled off their Chinese blouses and facial disguises, packing them in suitcases of servants who were working with them, and who left, later, carrying the evidence.

After murdering Royce, the fake Chinese had fled to a Chinese laundry, slugged the honest laundryman and packed their disguises into laundry bags, which they had claimed soon after, while posing as American customers.

The thing had been even simpler on board the steamship Canopus. Tossing off their Chinese garb, the killers had pocketed their masks and pa.s.sed as American visitors on board the liner. That time, they could afford to let their Chinese clothes be found, since the discovery gave the false impression that they had all dived overboard. On every occasion, the real killers had stayed around to offer a.s.sistance in hunting down the vanished Chinese. Tonight, however, they had made their great mistake - of rallying to Marne's aid without benefit of their Chinese getups. Forcing them thus to show their hand was the master stroke of The Shadow's campaign.

Cranston was admiring the pieces of the Jade Dragon. Weighing the segments as he took them from the ivory box, he showed a puzzled expression. Putting the dragon together on the ebony stand, he began to press the coils together.

"Too heavy for jade, these segments," he remarked. "Odd, too, that Marne should have grabbed the dragon instead of the other jewels. He certainly didn't intend to rule China -"

AS Cranston pressed, the segments of the dragon clicked. Cunningly wrought, those pieces were each in two portions, that opened like little boxes when the entire dragon was together and manipulated by an expert hand.

From each section rolled a green gem. The centers of the dragon segments were filled with perfect emeralds!

These were the secret of the Jade Dragon, the real worth that they contained and the wealth that Marne had sought above all other. The emeralds were Chenma's, for the segments of the dragon were specified only as jade in the lists of the stolen collections.

In addition, Cranston reminded Chenma that Yatku, buried in the well, was her property, too, and would bring several thousand dollars as old silver, less the few hundred dollars' cost of blasting him from his present mooring.

As for Chenma's status, she was at least the ward of Alexander Marne, even though he had posed as Shang Chou when he met her in China and announced himself to be her uncle. She merely needed another guardian, and Cranston was sure that his estimable friend, Dr. Roy Tam, could be induced to serve as such.

So they left for Tam's, Cranston and Chenma, with the girl carrying the priceless emeralds from the Jade Dragon. As they took an open route that led from Shang Chou's premises, Chenma paused for a last look back. Somehow, she fancied that she could still hear the laugh of The Shadow.

Chenma looked at Cranston and saw that he was smiling. A friendly smile, that blended with the thoughts in Chenma's mind. A smile that, like the echoes of a strange, weird mirth, remained as a symbol of The Shadow's triumph over crime!

THE END.