The reason why the hinges halted was because the lower side of the trapdoor was sheathed with metal that underlapped the floor. Motionless, The Shadow watched one window, then the other, and noted the faintest of flickers from the dimness.

It couldn't be that the lights of Chinatown were playing tricks. There would have been some regularity in their behavior. Nor were persons using lights from the air shafts. The logical explanation was that lurkers were blocking off what light there was.

Evidently, Shang Chou recognized this weak spot leading into his preserves, and had placed watchers in neighboring windows across the very gloomy air shafts. Watchers who were no more visible to The Shadow than he was to them, which made it all quite even, provided that the others had not heard too much noise.

Listening, The Shadow detected no sounds from outside. The wavering of the dim light ceased. Having traveled this far into Shang Chou's premises, The Shadow decided to continue, leaving the empty room to those who watched it.

He eased through the trap without lifting it farther; let it come down slowly upon his hands, as he hung his body from the beam he gripped. Only The Shadow's fingers remained in place, with the trapdoor resting on his knuckles.

With a twist, he freed his fingers and dropped. As he landed on the floor behind the wicket door, The Shadow heard a sharp click from above.

The trap had a hidden latch. Loose when The Shadow tried it, the latch had sprung in place, loudly enough to tell of an intruder. In the little entry where he stood, The Shadow gave a whispered laugh.

He didn't have to worry about the closed route above. He had found the wicket door, and, in an emergency, could use it as an exit. By way of precaution, he produced his flashlight and played it toward the door.

That was, he played it toward the place where there should have been a door. Instead, the flashlight flickered on a wall of solid brick.

It wasn't the only brick wall in the square-shaped entry. As The Shadow swung his flashlight, he found exactly three others. Four walls, in all, surrounding a s.p.a.ce no more than eight feet square.

It was a trap, as Tam had feared, but the door was not the trap. There simply wasn't any door to thisbrick cell wherein The Shadow had so willingly hemmed himself!

SILENTLY, The Shadow waited. His vigil was not prolonged. From above, he heard the slight sc.r.a.pe of feet. Chinese had heard the trap door's telltale click. They were in the room above, probably preparing something that would not prove pleasant.

Using his flashlight again, The Shadow took another look for the door that wasn't there. He saw the brick wall, and noted it carefully.

The bricks were new, the mortar damp. In the course of the last few hours, Shang Chou had put willing men to rapid work, probably in very short shifts, so that none would lose his alibi as regards the crime at Dayland's. They had built a solid wall, with a special mortar that dried rapidly. Even if it hadn't fully hardened, the fact would be of little help.

To get at the door, The Shadow would have to punch the bricks outward, and the door, itself, would block that endeavor. In the time required to tear the wall apart in inward fashion, could it be done at all, The Shadow would find himself burdened with other problems. In fact, a problem had begun to loom.

From above, The Shadow heard a hissing sound. Pointing his flashlight upward, he saw tiny holes that studded the locked sheathing beneath the trapdoor. The hisses came from gas that lurkers were piping down to The Shadow. Deadly gas, of course, and the time that it would take to fill this brick-walled chamber represented The Shadow's remaining life span.

Even with death a potent threat, The Shadow remained cool. He was swinging the flashlight down from the ceiling to the brick walls about him. After centering it on the wall that had once been a door, The Shadow turned the flashlight lower, to the floor.

It was solid, but it was wooden, like the floor that he had just come through, though it might have metal underneath. It showed no outlines of a trapdoor, but that wouldn't prevent The Shadow from carving one. Moreover, he believed he could.

This entry certainly must lead somewhere; otherwise, Chenma would not have used the wicket for sending messages to Dr. Tam. Nor was it likely that the normal route from the entry led up through the floor above, for that would bring a person to the world outside.

Dropping to the floor, The Shadow thumped it with a gun b.u.t.t, ready to use the jimmy on the muzzle, should the probe produce a weak spot. All the while, he was ignoring the steady hiss from above.

It was curious how the gun taps echoed. The Shadow paused between strokes to listen, and for a moment he thought the gas was getting him, for the echoes moved along without the raps that had produced them! Moving over, he tapped again, picked up an echo, and let it continue on, as before.

Those weren't echoes; they were answering taps, from beneath. They went to the rear wall, stopped there and beat an excited tattoo, until The Shadow thumped quick raps in return. Then the raps from below moved along the rear wall and stopped, with another succession, all in one spot.

Again, The Shadow laughed.

He wanted to find weak spots, and those taps were telling him where he could. Marking the first spot, The Shadow jimmied at the edges of the floor beneath the brick walls. Taps told him to hurry, so he wasted no more time.

He fired three shots from his gun, all in a line, right through the circular opening the jimmy had made. The floor quivered from the blasts, and didn't quite recover. It had canted slightly when The Shadow finished. Over to the other side, The Shadow gave three more shots at the other spot. As he fired the third, the whole floor quaked; then, before he could catch himself, The Shadow was slipping. The floor was splintering under his weight, and it was dropping like a hinged flap.

He grabbed for the wall, hoping to gain a grip among the bricks, but the floor gave too fast. It stopped very suddenly, at an angle of forty-five degrees, transforming itself into a mammoth sliding board. With the bottom of the brick wall out of reach, The Shadow scooted into a room below.

THE place was lighted, and as he thumped over the edges of some steps, The Shadow saw Chenma, the Chinese girl, springing from his path. She was beside him as he finished his slide against the stone floor of a cellar. He could tell from her eyes that she feared that he was hurt.

Rising, The Shadow removed the jimmy from the gun end and pocketed the smaller tool, keeping the larger ready. He might need the automatic very soon, for the hissing sound from the ceiling of the entry had ended when listeners heard the crash of the floor. They knew that The Shadow had escaped them, and that their gas was not sufficient to fill an entire cellar.

Chenma was talking in English, in a very rapid undertone. She was chiding The Shadow in one breath, thanking him in another. She wished that he hadn't come here, yet was glad that he had. Her present hope was to get him to some exit from this cellar, so that he could safely go his way before Dragon Cult men arrived to capture him. As for Chenma, she would be safe, if she hurried back to Shang Chou's headquarters.

While Chenma talked, The Shadow was looking upward, studying the route by which he had reached the cellar. The wicket door had been an entrance, not to a level vestibule but to a flight of steps that led directly down to the cellar. In blocking off that route of entry, Dragon Cult men had carried bricks up the steps and built their wall in the doorway at the top.

They must then have slid away the steps in order to swing a large-hinged floor up to the level of the doorway. The floor, long in readiness, had previously been fastened beneath the cellar ceiling. A simple release of its clamps, it had dropped into position where the bricklayers could shove it up to make it fit the entry as a perfect floor.

The rear edge of the trick floor was hinged beneath the back wall of the entry; the front edge stayed in place because Shang Chou's men pushed the steps under it to prop it. In signaling The Shadow, Chenma had decided that the hinges were the vulnerable spots. By demolishing them, The Shadow had proven that the girl's guess was right.

Though studying the details of the floor, The Shadow did not miss a word that Chenma said. His whispered laugh was his reply, and its strange sibilance told all. Looking up into The Shadow's eyes, Chenma realized that he had come here, not for a mere encounter with the Dragon Cult men but with the definite intent of penetration to the secret abode of Shang Chou.

Chenma, herself, had said that she could return there. If she could travel unnoticed, so could The Shadow. Firmly, the girl declared: "There is time, Ying Ko. Come!"

She turned off the light and guided The Shadow through the darkness. They went through a part.i.tion into another cellar; then turned right to a short pa.s.sage, that Chenma found with no difficulty. Reaching another pitch-black room, Chenma pressed The Shadow along the wall.

"There are posts here," she whispered. "If we find them, we can pick our way to the doorway on theother side -"

A stir in the darkness produced The Shadow's interruption. He heard it up ahead, and knew that he and Chenma were not alone. The Shadow was smothering Chenma's whisper until he learned what living things the darkness held. His investigation proved unnecessary Before The Shadow could begin his probe, the cellar room blazed suddenly with light. The glare was brilliant, produced by four large incandescent bulbs, each affixed to the posts that Chenma had mentioned. Across the room, staring from an open doorway, stood a Chinaman who wore a silver robe.

He gripped a revolver, as did four other Chinese with him - men who wore the customary jackets of the Dragon Cult.

With two gunners flanking him on each side, the man in silver was formidable. His eyes, peering from a yellow wrinkled face, were merciless. Beneath a silver skullcap, that face wore a mustache whose trailing ends gave his features an insidious touch.

It wasn't necessary for Chenma to cry out the name of this formidable personage. His very appearance, his show of authority proclaimed it.

The Shadow had found Shang Chou!

CHAPTER VII. DOUBLE STRATEGY.

CONSIDERING that Shang Chou had ordered the sudden blaze of light, it would seem that he had found The Shadow, rather than the other way about. There was a circ.u.mstance, however, that altered the entire case. Shang Chou had not found The Shadow.

When he had sensed the stir in the darkness, The Shadow shifted, drawing Chenma with him. As the glare came, The Shadow's shift became a whirl. Darkness was his habitat; he had an uncanny sense of finding it in some of the oddest places. Darkness could draw The Shadow like a magnet. It did in this case.

Each of the four wooden posts in this cellar room stood near a corner. The lights were set centrally; hence it was their crosswise glow that reached the corners. Actually, the corners were as fully illuminated as the center of the room, except for one feature.

Directly behind each post was a blind spot that offered patchy darkness. It was into the nearest of those that The Shadow swung, bearing Chenma with him. The girl was wearing a long silk dress, black, with silver adornments. But even the silver did not catch the reflected light. With a wide sweep of his cloak, The Shadow had enveloped Chenma entirely within its folds.

Chenma was very small, and proportionately slender. Her head did not come above The Shadow's shoulder. She nestled perfectly within the cloak, as if it had been made to include her. Chenma was quick, too, to recognize what The Shadow was about. Relaxing, she let him carry her along so easily, that she might have been a Chinese doll.

Then, taking it quite for granted that The Shadow had staged one of his famous trips into the invisible, and that she, too, belonged to the unseen, Chenma looked up quite calmly from the cloak folds. Her eyes met The Shadow's, and she smiled quite cutely, as if to inquire: "What next?"

There was a gesture of The Shadow's other hand. From its gloved fist, Chenma saw a projectingautomatic. The gun muzzle, of dull metal, could be regarded as a portion of The Shadow's black attire.

Quite different from the glitter of revolvers that so often gave The Shadow his chance to spot opponents.

The admiration in Chenma's eyes was quite reciprocated by The Shadow's. He had found a valuable ally in the Chinese girl. He was quite sure that if a pinch came, this human wisp would prove herself nine-tenths dynamite. But this was no time to meet Shang Chou in battle, could it be avoided. The notorious Dragon Cult master was too well fortified with henchmen.

In addition to the four with him, others were lurking in the background. More were coming through the cellars, along the route that The Shadow and Chenma had used. They were the men who had tried to gas The Shadow in the entry.

There was a question as to what might happen when the groups met. The Shadow looked to Chenma for the answer. She phrased it, in a whisper that was m.u.f.fled by the cloak folds.

"They will think that you found a way out of the cellar," said Chenma. "We shall be quite unnoticed here, Ying Ko, even after the search is finished."

The search was under way. Striding across the four-posted room, Shang Chou disappeared in the far reaches of the cellar. The others followed him, but faces still peered occasionally from the deep doorway leading to the heart of Shang Chou's domain.

Quite sure that those watchers could not hear her whisper, Chenma told The Shadow that she had nothing to fear.

"No one saw me leave my apartment," declared Chenma. "Not even Tseng, the doorman, and he is my friend. Like myself, Tseng is a true Manchu. It is Tseng who gives me the information for my messages.

He learns what happens at the Dragon Cult meetings."

THE word "Manchu" explained much to The Shadow. The Manchu Dynasty had carried through to modern times, and there were many who looked forward to its restoration. Chenma was not necessarily so inclined; she was modern enough to have reconciled herself to the republican era.

But it was certain that if schemes of empire took hold, Chenma and others like her would be totally opposed to the inst.i.tution of an ancient order instead of the existing Manchu group. Hence, she could not sympathize with Shang Chou; but there were more reasons why she sought to thwart him.

"If Shang Chou is my uncle, as he claims," spoke Chenma, in her tiny whisper, "it is my duty to obey him.

But if he is my uncle, he is also a Manchu, and therefore a traitor to our cause. So I must stop his schemes."

Quite logical, the way Chenma expressed it, and she had an argument that worked both ways.

"I am not sure that Shang Chou is my uncle," she added seriously. "I never met him until after my parents died. If he is not my uncle, I do not need to obey him. Even if he is not a Manchu, he is still an enemy, and therefore as dangerous as a traitor."

The Shadow responded in a whisper that denoted approval of Chenma's statements. He hoped that she would say more, which she did.

"All else aside," spoke Chenma, very firmly, "I am opposed to Shang Chou's crimes. He has duped his Dragon Cult followers into ways of evil. You wish to meet Shang Chou, alone. Very well, Ying Ko, I shall arrange it." Lifting a tiny hand, the girl drew down a fold of the concealing cloak and gave a winsome glance past the sheltering post. She saw that Shang Chou's reserves were becoming restless. Two were at the doorway.

One was about to carry a message to Shang Chou; the other looked ready to return into headquarters.

"Tell me more about Shang Chou," suggested The Shadow. "Any further facts may prove important."

"I know nothing more," Chenma confessed. "Tseng does not attend the meetings. He merely hears what members say while on the way out. They have secret routes, which even Tseng does not know. His only path was through the wicket door, but of late he has not used it; and now, it is sealed."

The two Chinese had separated, one going to find Shang Chou, the other returning through the deep door. Looking up, Chenma spoke pleadingly to The Shadow.

"Let me leave now, Ying Ko! I can go back to my apartment and be there when Shang Chou returns. He cannot have guessed that I am here, for he was absent at the time I left. I had not seen him since the meeting. If you will wait until all have gone, and then continue through the cellars, you will find the pa.s.sage with the silver door.

"It is beneath an old stairway with a broken rail. Tap three times, and I shall release the catch that will enable you to draw the door open. It must be operated from both sides, whenever it has been locked."

The Shadow let Chenma steal from the cloak folds. He watched her frail figure disappear through the doorway leading to the next cellar. Her mention of the silver door with the double lock was proof of the risks that she had taken in sending messages to Tam.

Unquestionably, Chenma must have left the door unlocked when she made those expeditions to the wicket. If anyone other than her friend Tseng had found it, she would have returned to discover that her path was barred.

Even greater was the risk upon this final trip. Knowing that Shang Chou's men had turned the wicket entry into a trap, Chenma had nevertheless ventured there, to aid anyone who might fall into the toils. She had helped The Shadow effect his own rescue, in a way that might have terminated her own future.

Fortunately, news of The Shadow's escape had reached Shang Chou and he had come with followers, leaving the path open behind him. Thus had Chenma been able to return, and The Shadow agreed that it was best for her to go alone.

By waiting here, he could hear what Shang Chou's followers had to say. If they even suspected that Chenma had aided The Shadow, he would be able to handle them beforehand.

Several of them returned quite promptly, with Shang Chou in their midst. The Shadow could see annoyed wrinkles on the face beneath the silver skullcap. The messenger was with them, and he was talking in singsong Chinese, which The Shadow understood.

He was telling Shang Chou that a few newcomers had arrived and were waiting at their portal, but that Tseng was not on hand to admit them. Shang Chou told the messenger that he should have informed Chenma; that she might have told him where to find Tseng.

AT those words, The Shadow lowered his automatic into the folds of his cloak. He had been following Shang Chou with the gun muzzle, hoping to clip the Dragon Cult master first, if battle proved advisable.

Keeping a bead on the silver-clad figures was not at all easy, with other figures intervening in bobbing style.

The fact that Shang Chou supposed Chenma to be in her own apartment, was enough. The Shadowdecided to wait for the meeting which Chenma had said she could arrange. A private interview with Shang Chou was much to be desired.

By bearding Shang Chou - or, to be more literal, by clipping the Dragon Cult leader's mustaches, The Shadow would be in a perfect position to probe the Dragon Cult from within. Already, he had identified some of the members for future reference, but he hoped to include all before he finished.

Searchers continued to prowl the cellars after Shang Chou had gone back to his headquarters. They occasionally poked into the room where The Shadow lurked, but the glare of the lights deceived them. It didn't seem possible that anyone could be hiding in the midst of such brilliance. The darkness between posts and corners looked very thin, when viewed from angles.

It must have been half an hour before men gave up the hunt, and when they filed back through the posted room, others came with them, carrying hammers. Evidently that crowd had fixed the broken floor above the steps, thus again transforming a stairway entrance into a forgotten brick-walled room.

When the last had gone through, they turned off the lights, and The Shadow gave them another ten minutes to rejoin Shang Chou and then go their respective ways. His own time limit up, The Shadow used his flashlight to light a path to the silver door that Chenma had mentioned.

In an obscure cellar, the tiny glow picked out a dusty stairway that had a broken rail. A satisfied laugh whispered through the darkness as The Shadow stepped behind the stairs. His flashlight focused itself beneath the steps, and therewith The Shadow's mirth ceased.

There wasn't any silver door.

Instead, The Shadow saw another wall of brick, quite as solid as the one that had blocked the entrance from the blind alley. Like the other wall, this one was freshly constructed, its quick-drying mortar not yet hardened. However, this wall was outside a door, instead of inside. It was blocking entrance, instead of exit.

Workers had probably begun its construction while Chenma was trying to aid The Shadow. Returning to her apartment, the Chinese girl must have witnessed the operation. Her only course had been to slip through at some moment when the workers were absent. When the last of Shang Chou's retainers returned, the last bricks had been promptly put in place and the silver door locked from the other side.

Between them, The Shadow and Shang Chou had indulged in double strategy. Failing to trap The Shadow with one brick wall, Shang Chou had blocked him off with another. In his turn, The Shadow had slipped a snare, vanished before Shang Chou could find him, and covered the fact that Chenma had given him aid.

In the duel, The Shadow still held the aggressive. He had forced Shang Chou to draw in his outposts and to tighten his domain. Having thus tested his adversary, The Shadow could plan other strategy while he waited for Shang Chou to move again.

A whispered laugh stirred the darkness. If walls had ears, that brick barrier would have a stern warning to repeat to its builder, Shang Chou.

A reminder, from The Shadow, that crime's final fruit would be Shang Chou's own payment for his misdeeds.

CHAPTER VIII. OUT OF CHINATOWN