Guests who poured into the front hall were scattered by a human whirlwind that sped up the staircase like a funnel-shaped tornado bound upon a devastating spree.

Near the top, The Shadow heard shouts from a front stairway leading to the third floor and knew that Cardona and the detectives were pursuing fugitives in that direction. So The Shadow took to the same darkened stairs, anxious to insert his hand at the finish of the chase.

Margo saw The Shadow pa.s.s. She had unbolted the door of the strong room and was peering out, with Royce, but he was more interested in getting downstairs than up, and insisted that Margo accompany him. She did, because she knew she could not help in the pursuit of the Chinese. Calmly, Royce escorted her down the grand staircase, pausing to gesture below.

There, frightened guests were blundering into each other. Screaming women were dashing out throughthe front door, hanging onto straps of evening gowns that were dangling from their shoulders. Among them, Royce recognized a couple of his models, and shook his head quite sadly.

"There go the blondes," he told Margo. "A flighty lot, I've found them. None of them would do for the serious work that I have planned. Let them wear anything like jewels and they would want to keep them!

Come, Miss Lane, and let me escort you to a dignified exit. Should we find a cab outside, we can go to some more quiet place."

THE only way to make Royce serious was to humor him; at least, Margo had learned that much. Since Royce's testimony would prove most valuable in tracking down the murderers of Dayland, Margo decided that her proper part was to go along with him. She also realized something that hadn't appeared to dent Royce.

Both he and she had battled the Chinese a.s.sa.s.sins, after witnessing Dayland's death. It wasn't wise for either of them to stay around where Chinese might bob up. Even in flight, the Celestials might take time out for vengeance, if they thought they were far enough ahead of The Shadow.

A big, official car was stopping in front of Dayland's just as Margo and Royce found a cab. The car belonged to the police commissioner, Ralph Weston, and he was stepping from it in person.

With him was a tall, gray-haired man whose face was firm-jawed and rugged. He looked about Royce's age, but he seemed more active, though Margo could not deny that Royce had shone effectively while swinging the taboret.

"There's Alexander Marne," declared Royce. "It will be a shock for him to learn that his friend Herb Dayland was murdered. Well, we can let Lou Walstead break the sad news. We can phone after the excitement has ended. At present, the premises are too crowded."

Somehow, Margo felt that Royce's show of nerve had been forced; even his jests took on the semblance of false bravery. Perhaps she had misjudged him, even though she did not like his oily manner, with its mock politeness. She was glad, at least, that they were riding in The Shadow's cab.

Its driver, Moe Shrevnitz, had spotted Margo and had turned down other customers to let her have his cab. With Shrevvie at the wheel, Margo wasn't worried about any Chinese finding them, nor, for that matter, was she troubled about riding with Burton Royce.

MEANWHILE, the chase at Dayland's had come to a dead end. On the fourth floor, Cardona and his detectives, Harry and the bolder guests, were smashing away at a closed door where excited servants had seen the Chinese go. The whole hallway was crowded, and the servants were peering from the doors of side rooms, apparently ready to duck to safety if the Chinese made a sortie The Shadow saw it all from a stairway, and decided against remaining. There were only four guns against eight belonging to the Chinese, but there were at least a dozen guests armed with such usable weapons as bottles, fire tongs, and billiard cues. The Shadow's decision was also influenced by his belief that the fugitives would not have chosen an actual dead end for the finish of their flight.

Taking the back stairway down, The Shadow came out behind the Dayland house. From below, he saw something that he had not had time to notice when he made his quick arrival. Dayland's house was a story higher than the one next door, and the adjacent house was empty. A wall divided the two rear courts, and across it The Shadow could see the opening of a pa.s.sage between buildings, leading to a side street.

If the next-door house had a trapdoor in its roof, the Chinese could have come down through it to reachthe side pa.s.sage. Cutting through the rear street, The Shadow started around the corner, hoping to head them off. A look back told him that his idea was correct.

Cardona and the rest must have smashed through the door on Dayland's top floor and found the Chinese gone, for figures were piling out onto the roof, and men were shouting back to others, as a crowd of pursuers would do. Some of those figures dipped from sight, proving the existence of the trapdoor that The Shadow suspected.

Reaching the side street, The Shadow crossed it and stationed himself directly opposite the pa.s.sage.

Only if they knew the route could the Chinese have fled by their side outlet prior to The Shadow's arrival, and at that, they would have needed uncommon speed.

So The Shadow waited, expecting to hear the clatter of footsteps that did not come. When seconds turned into minutes, he moved over to the outlet, in case the Chinese had decided to lurk there and ambush their pursuers.

Sirens were wailing in the neighborhood, announcing the arrival of police cars. A big spotlight swept toward the pa.s.sage, and The Shadow, to avoid it, sidled past the corner.

As the light struck him, he heard a clatter, but it wasn't the one he had expected. He recognized the shouts as those of guests from Dayland's. They'd come down through the house ahead of the pack, and the chance light had given them a fleeting glimpse of the same figure in black they had met on the back stairs.

Cardona and Harry must have still been scouring the empty house, or they would have put those fellows straight. Such a thought did not help The Shadow's present dilemma. The pack was after him, and halted police cars were bearing their searchlights on the s.p.a.ce between the houses. It wasn't a healthy place, even for The Shadow, which was why he didn't stay.

The pa.s.sing light showed him as a fleeting figure, cutting back across the street. Thinking that they had spotted a real fugitive, the crew of the patrol cars tried to keep The Shadow in the light. They might as well have endeavored to hold a clump of evaporating smoke. The Shadow, reversing from the spotlight, was gone in much the same fashion.

Traffic was tangling up in the street, and men were deploying everywhere to make sure that the mysterious fugitive had not climbed into a car. Once inspected, vehicles were told to be on their way.

In the midst of his spreading pursuers, The Shadow saw two men stop an arriving cab, open its door, look inside, and wave it on its way. That car wasn't exactly an arrival; it was Moe's cab, returning after dropping Margo and Royce.

Hardly had it started again before Moe heard a whispering order, almost at his ear. The cabby eased the accelerator long enough to hear the thump that told him that a rear door had opened and closed again.

Even in the mirror, Moe couldn't spot the action of the door, and he knew that its closing would have been totally silent, had The Shadow chosen. The slight clatter had a purpose; it told Moe to be on his way.

Twisting the cab half across the sidewalk, Moe pulled it from the traffic jam and rounded the next corner.

He could hear the fading of shouts from the men who were continuing their futile search. The whispered laugh that followed was The Shadow's, and it came from within the cab. It took the place of an order that Moe didn't need. There was only one trail that The Shadow would want. His goal was Chinatown again. If, by a swift trip there, he could overtake the fugitives who had gone ahead, men of murder would soon be answering for their crime!

CHAPTER V. DR. TAM EXPLAINS.

MOE made the trip to Chinatown a fast one, but the news of crime had traveled there ahead of The Shadow. Inspector Cardona was no longer thinking in terms of robbery with a Chinese angle; he had acted on the knowledge that such existed. A call to headquarters had put the whole Chinatown squad in operation, and when The Shadow dropped from Moe's cab, he saw police everywhere.

They were practically quarantining Chinatown, to trap the returning horde, but there were still loopholes in the cordon. Finding one, The Shadow did not doubt that the fugitive Chinese were doing the same, provided that Moe's speedy trip had cut down the five minutes' head start that the Chinese could have over him.

Once inside this section, The Shadow discovered that the returning Chinese were either lucky, or he was late. Into every place where he peered, Chinese in native jackets were exactly where they belonged. Not only was The Shadow finding it so, but the same applied with other searchers.

The American-clad Chinese were looking into shops and shaking their heads. Police, including plainclothes men, were doing the same.

Like The Shadow, the raiders who had murdered Dayland were in the cla.s.s of vanished fighters.

Apparently, they had preserved their ident.i.ties by letting numbers absorb them, for there were dozens of their ilk in Chinatown.

The Shadow saw no reason for prolonging his search. Others were doing it for him, and he couldn't afford to be stopped and questioned by police, as was beginning to happen with the honest Chinese.

Not that The Shadow would have been stopped and questioned. They would have had to see him first.

But his search would certainly have been hampered, until it become nothing but a series of fade-outs, with no results obtained. Chinatown was beginning to take on an aspect of a police field day.

Besides, The Shadow still had a card to play. Picking the alley that he wanted, he slid through a cellar window just ahead of incoming lights, flourished by police. Finding the empty shop that occupied a Doyers Street bas.e.m.e.nt, The Shadow joined Cliff and Clyde, who were still holding their Chinese prisoner.

The man in native costume was quite recovered from the treatment The Shadow had given him. Bound and gagged, he stared at his cloaked captor and gave out sounds that were m.u.f.fled grunts. Instead of removing the gag and questioning the fellow, The Shadow told his agents to bring the Chinaman along.

Out in the alley, The Shadow made sure that the police had gone, then guided the party to the next street.

How The Shadow picked the crossing was something that his agents couldn't explain. He had an uncanny sense of timing, that enabled him to pick the brief seconds when half a dozen police were too engaged, otherwise, to spot the trio that cut across the street; two men with a huddled prisoner dragging between them.

True, The Shadow helped, by wheeling in from just the proper angle to cover the finish of the trip. A detective, turning in that direction, saw only a ma.s.s of blackness, which he didn't particularly wonder about until it moved. When he threw his flashlight toward the splotch, it was gone. The Shadow hadmade a quick twist into the doorway where his agents took their prisoner. The door was unlocked when they entered it, but The Shadow bolted it before the detective came over to try it.

Waiting, The Shadow made sure that the man outside did not hear the footsteps that were going up a flight of stairs. That done, The Shadow followed. At the top of the stairs, his agents took their prisoner into a little office, where a very studious Chinese seated at a desk was observing them curiously through his gla.s.ses.

Placing the bound man in a chair, the agents left. Outside the office door, The Shadow told them to wait; then reentering, he closed the door behind him.

THE man at the desk smiled. He and The Shadow were old friends, and he had been expecting this visit.

He was Dr. Roy Tam, a man of modern methods, who had done much to reconcile the old with the new in Chinatown. The Chinese who had been making inspection tours this evening were all Tam's workers.

"Welcome, Ying Ko," greeted Tam, his face becoming solemn as he spoke. "I have just heard the unfortunate news. I cannot understand it. I have done my utmost to prevent it, yet crime has occurred again."

"This man may tell us something," replied The Shadow. "I shall let you question him, Tam."

As he spoke, The Shadow removed the gag from the prisoner, doing more than permit the man to speak.

Once the gag was gone, the man's face was revealed, and The Shadow saw Tam stare. He didn't have to ask if Tam recognized the captive. He saw that Tam did, and something more.

"This is Lee Sook," declared Tam soberly. "He is one of my own men. Do not misjudge him by his garb.

He has not deserted to the other camp. He wore that jacket tonight at my special order. Where did you find him, Ying Ko?"

It wasn't often that The Shadow made such mistakes, so he let Lee Sook tell about it - which the fellow did, quite volubly. He'd gone to the door with the wicket, Lee Sook had, hoping to get another message from Chenma, the niece of Shang Chou. She'd mistrusted him, until he'd told her that his get-up was merely to deceive other members of the Dragon Cult, should any be around.

So Chenma had given him her message, and he had turned it over to Ying Ko, under pressure. Lee Sook had been surprised to meet Ying Ko in the alley with the wicket door, and realizing that his costume was against him, Lee Sook had been too bewildered to explain himself.

However, upon awakening to find himself guarded by Ying Ko's men, Lee Sook had solaced himself with the knowledge that the message was intended for Ying Ko anyway, and would have reached him through Tam.

While Lee Sook was giving his statement, The Shadow unbound him. Tam took him to the office door and introduced him to The Shadow's agents in the hall. Closing the door, Tam turned with a slight smile, to hear The Shadow's whispered laugh.

"I would have done well, Tam," conceded The Shadow, "had I contacted you before making my own tour. I wished to gain a first-hand view of the situation which you had mentioned. Quite by accident, I ran into Lee Sook."

"I intended to tell you about him this evening," explained Tam, "along with other features of the case. The chance meeting was very fortunate, for it saved time in getting the message to you. And yet" - Tam spread his hands helplessly - "crime has struck again. I cannot understand it!" Seating himself at the desk, Tam brought out papers and pa.s.sed them to The Shadow. Among them was a list of names, including all members of the so-called Dragon Cult reputedly controlled by a hidden master called Shang Chou. Tam added, however, that the cult was quite as evasive as its secret leader.

"Shang Chou has taken his name from two ancient Chinese dynasties," declared Tam. "The name Shang stood for cruelty, in its day; Chou for wisdom. We must grant that Shang Chou has called himself by an appropriate t.i.tle, for his ways are both ruthless and intelligent. But there is more behind it.

"Without doubt, Shang Chou, for purposes of his own, has duped his followers into believing that he will some day return to China and become a power there, taking them with him to share his importance. They call themselves the Dragon Cult, but the emblem of the dragon means old China, so it affords us no clue.

"We can only suppose that the Dragon Cult is responsible for recent crime, for every night that its members meet, crime follows. They have no badge except their preference for native jackets, and therein Shang Chou is crafty, for he forces us to watch all men who wear such attire."

FROM the drawer, Tam was bringing out little slips of rice paper, each inscribed with a girl's handwriting. One by one, he laid them on the desk.

"These are the only clues, Ying Ko," declared Tam. "We have received them from Shang Chou's niece, Chenma, who evidently disapproves of her uncle's evil ways. They have always arrived too late to stop the crimes involved, but they have proven that Shang Chou is responsible. What puzzles me, is which members of the cult do the crimes that Shang Chou orders."

The Shadow could understand why Tam was puzzled. This evening, The Shadow had checked on various of the suspected Chinese, before he left Chinatown and after his return. To have made the trip to Dayland's and back, the chosen eight must have moved with precision and speed. That, however, was from The Shadow's viewpoint, alone.

Tam's watchers had been keeping tabs, at intervals, all along, and had nothing to report on any absent Chinese. Tam was frank to admit that certain members of the cult had not been closely watched, but that fitted with Tam's policy. He didn't want the suspected parties to think that they were under observation.

Somehow, they must have known it, for everyone had given himself an alibi in the eyes of Tam's own men.

There was just one point that might explain it.

"Those who remain in Chinatown," declared Tam, "aid the friends who leave. They do it by stepping out of sight into the back rooms of their shops, or by leaving to visit other merchants. Thus they keep my men watching the wrong places. It is then that the others go and return."

Negligence, even treachery, on the part of Tam's own men might account for the mysterious movements of the Dragon Cult, but The Shadow knew the caliber of Tam's workers too well to suppose that such was the solution. Unquestionably, the ways of Shang Chou were as subtle as they were insidious, but the very methods of the hidden master limited his scope.

Shang Chou could only gain new members for his compact group by approaching those who favored a revival of the ancient Chinese dynasties. To work upon any who were no more than lukewarm would be fatal to his tactics. He couldn't even trust a traitor, if one existed in Tam's camp. Consideration of that fact proved helpful to The Shadow.

"Shang Chou has reached no one close to you," declared The Shadow. "Of that, I am positive, Tam. I am equally certain that this is one rule that will work the other way." It took Tam only a few seconds to absorb the full point of The Shadow's statement. Then, his eyes owlish through his gla.s.ses, Tam stated: "You mean Chenma."

"Exactly!" said The Shadow. "She is our link to Shang Chou. So far, she has limited herself to sending last-minute messages. We must learn more from her. Tell me, Tam: what lies behind the door with the wicket?"

Tam shook his head.

"I do not know," he admitted. "I am only sure that it must in some way connect with Shang Chou's headquarters, though no one has been seen to go in or out of that door, and it is always locked."

"Someone must go beyond it, Tam."

The Shadow had risen. Tam rose, too, in real alarm, to clutch his visitor's cloak sleeve.

"It would be dangerous to pa.s.s through that door!" exclaimed Tam. "It might mean death, even for you, Ying Ko! Knowing the ways of Shang Chou, I am sure that the door must be a trap. Whoever pa.s.ses through -"

Tam's words were halted by a whisper. It was then that he recalled the term that The Shadow had used.

Tam's visitor had not said that he would go through the fatal door. He had stated that someone must go beyond it.

Profound were the ways of Ying Ko, The Shadow. Wiser, Tam believed, than those of the dread Shang Chou. Tam's bow was more than an acknowledgment of The Shadow's craft. It was his farewell nod, given in expectation of The Shadow's prompt return from a visit to the hidden domain of the unknown Shang Chou!

CHAPTER VI. BEYOND THE DOOR.

THE SHADOW'S flashlight blinked within an empty room. To all appearances, it was an ordinary room that might have belonged in any vacant house. It was not remote from the haunts of man, for the noise of city traffic reached The Shadow's ears subdued. Yet the room could be called a strange one.

It had windows, but not where they belonged. Its front walls should have held a pair of them; instead, it was quite solid. The windows were at the sides, and they opened into narrow air shafts no larger than chimneys, judging from the very feeble light that trickled through them. Most upstairs rooms in this area caught much of Chinatown's glow. This room was quite the exception.

The Shadow had found it by probing from the closed store on Doyers Street. It had meant a trip through houses, some of them occupied, and over short stretches of rooftops, down into other buildings.

At last, at the end of a tiny hall, The Shadow had found the very door he wanted. His senses of direction and distance, trained to the utmost possible, were guides that could not fail.

The next thing was to find a way to the entry that lay just beneath. It couldn't be reached through the house, for The Shadow had searched the floor below, only to run into a wall.

In pacing the room where he was at present, The Shadow found that it extended a dozen feet farther than the ground-floor route that he had tried. This was his claim, and he meant to dig it. Crouched on the floor, The Shadow kept his flashlight well concealed within the folds of his black cloak.

All the while, he was conscious of those side windows and the narrow air shafts beyond them.

They were windows that could easily be reached by prowlers, and The Shadow did not doubt that members of the Dragon Cult would serve in that capacity, should they suspect that he, Ying Ko, was seeking a private entry to the domain of Shang Chou.

This floor showed more than ordinary cracks. Instead of long boards, it had short ones, that formed a jigsaw pattern. Inserting a stubby prying tool on the muzzle of an automatic, The Shadow used the combination as a jimmy. Wedged into the largest crack, the device brought results.

Not one board, but a whole clump came upward. They formed a simple trapdoor leading down to the s.p.a.ce beneath. A hinged door that stopped with a sorrowful grating noise before The Shadow had lifted it very far. The groan of the hinges warned that listeners, if close, might hear too much for The Shadow's good.