FINDING an exit from these outer cellars was very easy for The Shadow, but it brought him into unexpected trouble. Mild trouble, however, compared with the difficulties that Shang Chou had offered him; nevertheless, The Shadow was forced to a quick display of his ability at being here, there, yet nowhere.

The police had really taken over Chinatown. They were marching into restaurants, banging at shop doors and calling for the proprietors. They were out to question everyone who might have seen suspicious Chinese return to this quarter.

In fact, they almost had opportunity to question a person who could really have told them something.

Coming around a corner, three detectives ran squarely into The Shadow.

They didn't know who he was; not even what he was, considering the speed with which he whipped into a doorway, then out of it, as the detectives charged his way.

Crossing the street on the rebound, The Shadow was totally missed by his seekers, only to be spotted by others who were coming up. They knew they were after something that had life to it, even though it was distinguishable only as a batch of darkness.

There were too many clumps of darkness along this street, now that many of the shops had turned off their lights. Police and detectives stumbled into bas.e.m.e.nt entries that they thought were solid; others lunged at darkened objects, only to embrace ash cans. It was very funny, or would have been, if they had kept it up longer.

At that moment, The Shadow had reached a corner and could have glided farther, but he saw what looked like a better choice. A cab was pulling up, and The Shadow recognized it as Moe Shrevnitz's. He wheeled over and seized the door handle, but the door came open before he could pull it, to unload a pair of detectives!

They had commandeered the cab on the outskirts of Chinatown, and hearing the commotion near the corner, were stopping to learn what it was about. Seeing The Shadow, they grabbed for him, but missed.

They couldn't have done otherwise, considering that they were in awkward position while coming from the cab.

The Shadow escaped the first man's lunge, wheeled about, and helped the other detective from the cab so fast that he hurdled right against the first man, who was turning to make another grab at living blackness.

With a spin, The Shadow went right into the empty cab, slammed the door, and was away amid the shrill excitement of police whistles.

The cab couldn't travel far in crooked streets where police were as thick as fence posts. After twisting around two corners, Moe's only chance was to head back, and he voiced it to The Shadow. It looked as if abandoning the cab could be The Shadow's only policy - until he saw a big official car, parked a short way ahead. Calmly, he told Moe to stop.

With one swoop, The Shadow divested himself of hat and cloak, stowing them in a secret drawer beneath the cab's rear seat. He opened the cab door and stepped out, a figure clad in immaculate evening clothes.

With calm eyes peering from an aristocratic face, The Shadow coolly introduced himself to a reception committee of police. He was Lamont Cranston, a friend of Commissioner Weston, and he had just arrived in Chinatown at the commissioner's request. Other police came pounding up on foot, to find the calm-mannered Mr. Cranston explaining how his cab had almost tangled with another that was speeding out of Chinatown. Fortunately, the two d.i.c.ks who had used Moe's cab failed to recognize either the vehicle or the driver, for they had made only a short ride, and a hurried one.

They were suspicious enough, however, to follow after Cranston when he went over to the commissioner's car. Weston wasn't in it, but the car had a pa.s.senger in the person of Louis Walstead.

He knew Cranston, and certified him as a friend of the commissioner. The detectives went their way shaking their heads, and Cranston sat down to have a chat with Walstead.

THE chat produced a first-hand description of the robbery at Dayland's, though Walstead, because of his fright and his hiding tactics, was a bit sketchy on certain details. He credited both Burton Royce and Margo Lane with a brave attempt to overtake the Chinese a.s.sa.s.sins who had murdered Herbert Dayland. He then explained how he happened to be in Chinatown.

Commissioner Weston, notified of possible trouble at Dayland's, had stopped to pick up Alexander Marne, who was at a board meeting. They had arrived after robbery and murder were over, to learn that a tribe of Chinese killers had vanished with their loot.

Since the trail led to Chinatown, Weston had suggested going there, taking along all who might aid in identifying any of the guilty Chinese. Both Marne and Walstead had accompanied him, and they had picked up two others on the way.

The other two were Royce and Margo. They had phoned back to Dayland's house, to say that they had safely eluded the Chinese. Finding Chinatown so thoroughly under control, Weston had suggested that all look about as they might choose. So, like Weston, all had gone their own way, with the exception of Walstead.

His choice was to look for Chinese from the window of Weston's official car. He'd been doing it for nearly an hour, and so far, none of the rest had returned.

Instead, Walstead had observed other guests from Dayland's, who had heard about the search and had come to offer aid. Young blades like Errol Garvin and Don Feldon and another, whose name Walstead finally recalled as Harry Vincent.

Inspector Cardona was still back at the Dayland house, talking with other guests and servants. He was due to arrive in Chinatown shortly, to report any new descriptions of the vanished Chinese. Meanwhile, police were rousing all the Chinese they could, to question them regarding suspicious characters.

Walstead had just finished his harangue when Marne appeared. Serious of face and manner, Marne gave a nod to Cranston and said that the commissioner was expecting him. This tallied with what Cranston had told the detectives, and it was better than a guess.

Invariably, when crime occurred in select circles, Commissioner Weston phoned the Cobalt Club, where he and Cranston were members, to leave word for his friend to join him. Weston had learned, through long experience, that Cranston could often offer suggestions helpful in solving certain types of crime.

Margo Lane was next to arrive. She was very glad when she saw Cranston, for the two were close friends. She managed to draw him aside while Walstead was talking with Marne.

"It's about Burton Royce," said Margo. "I'm depending on you to see me home, no matter how polite I am to Royce. He's so sold on one idea that he can't think of anything else. I had to slip away from him,so that I could help in the hunt for the missing Chinese."

Hardly had Margo finished before Royce arrived. Margo introduced him to Cranston, and smiled sweetly when Royce shook his head to chide her for having left hunt But he was unable to resume the conversation that Margo had so frequently interrupted.

Cranston was asking about the crime at Dayland's, and Margo was looking at Royce, expecting him to supply the details, which he proceeded to do in serious and precise fashion.

COMMISSIONER WESTON soon appeared, accompanied by Inspector Cardona. The two had met near the old joss house. They took charge of the sidewalk conference, and Weston asked Cardona for a final report on matters at Dayland's.

"n.o.body knows when the Chinese sneaked in," declared Cardona emphatically. "It must have been before nine o'clock, of course, but guests were arriving, and so were extra servants, because the party hadn't really gotten under way.

"We looked through Dayland's house and the one next door, but no Chinese were hiding in either place.

So I told the guests they could go, and I let the servants pack and leave, except for a couple who are going to close the house and look after it."

Weston gave a grunt, then turned to Marne and Walstead. He asked them if they could estimate the value of the stolen gems.

"I wouldn't know," declared Marne. "I have never gone in for collecting antique gems, except for a few odd pieces that happened to intrigue me, though some of them are only trinkets. Walstead can tell you better than I can, commissioner. He collects gems on a large scale."

Walstead nodded, nervously.

"I'd say that Dayland's gems were worth a hundred thousand," he declared. "At first sight, the contents of the coffer might appear more valuable, but so many of the items were merely jade and carnelian. The Chinese do some lovely carvings in both jade and carnelian, but they are valuable chiefly for their workmanship. I am evaluating Dayland's collection on the basis of the really precious stones that it contained."

"I would say that you valued it properly," put in Royce. "My own collection is about on a par with Dayland's. In fact, he and I frequently exchanged items."

Walstead gave Royce a sharp look.

"I never heard Dayland mention such transactions," said Walstead. "I thought your only business was selling him paintings."

"We didn't want to make you jealous, Lou," returned Royce, with an indulgent smile. "You considered yourself so much superior to us, with your collection valued at a quarter million, that we felt we'd better keep our own small business to ourselves. By the way, Lou, you've gone in for jade and carnelian, too, haven't you?"

"I have," retorted Walstead testily, "and I own some large chalcedony vases that I prize quite highly!"

"Then we'd better tack a few more thousand on our estimate of Dayland's collection. Poor Herb!" Royce shook his head. "I wonder why they went after his collection, instead of other game." At that, Walstead's nerves gave way He turned to Weston and Cardona, pleading with them to protect him, which they a.s.sured him they would do. Chuckling in his indulgent style, Royce declared that he, Royce, needed no protection; that he kept his jewels in a safe-deposit vault.

One thing, however, made itself quite evident. If Chinese raiders kept up their campaign, with gems as the objects they sought most, Walstead and Royce would be candidates for trouble, like Dayland.

Of the two, however, only Walstead appeared worried. Royce was ready to leave, now that the futile hunt was over. He turned to Margo announcing that he was ready to escort her to her apartment, only to learn that Cranston had claimed first honor. So Royce nodded a polite good night and stepped into Weston's car. About to follow, the commissioner paused.

"I don't see your limousine anywhere, Cranston," he remarked. "Didn't you ride in it from the club?"

Two listening detectives were very eager to bear Cranston's answer. It came, in his most casual style.

"I did," he replied, "and found traffic all snarled by your police cars, commissioner. So I had to walk through the tangle and pick up a cab. I'm riding back to where I left the limousine."

The detectives went their way, satisfied that they had guessed wrong. Cranston helped Margo into Moe's cab, but they didn't hunt up the limousine, because it wasn't anywhere near Chinatown.

DURING the ride to her apartment, Margo supplied a few more details on the Dayland case, but they didn't offer much new. Then Margo blurted what was uppermost is her mind.

"It's about Burton Royce," she said. "He wants me to be a Chinese princess, Lamont."

Cranston looked at Margo and gave an absent smile, which she didn't understand. He hadn't told her that this evening he had met a genuine Chinese princess, of the Manchu blood. It was rather difficult to picture Margo playing the part of a human doll like Chenma.

"You'd hardly do as a Chinese princess." Cranston shook his head as he surveyed Margo. "Some other nationality would be better, in your case."

"Royce mentioned Javanese -" began Margo slowly. Then, abruptly, she added: "But can't you understand, Lamont? I don't want to pose for Royce. Wearing all those Chinese jewels wouldn't interest me."

At mention of the jewels, Cranston's eyes showed an interested expression.

"Royce is a gentleman of judgment," he declared. "I agree that you would make an excellent model, Margo. I suggest that you become the Javanese princess."

"Why... why -"

Margo was speechless for a moment; when she found her voice again, she was stormy.

"Why, you'd think I was just another dizzy little fool!" she exclaimed. "Like those who talk about how marvelous Royce is, and think it's wonderful to have him add them to his gallery! I suppose" - groping for something else to say, Margo finally found it - "I suppose, Lamont, that you're even wishing I was a blonde!"

"Not at all," returned Cranston, with a quiet smile. "Royce could only use a dark-haired model for a Javanese princess. If you were a blonde, he wouldn't expect you to wear those Chinese jewels." It was Margo's turn to display enlightenment. Her eyes opened very wide. She was remembering something that Royce had said just before they left him, and she was picturing it in future terms, which Cranston had already done.

"Royce would have to bring his collection from the safe-deposit box!" expressed Margo. "Of course he would, Lamont! And if the Chinese heard about it, they would come to his studio, because it would be easier than going after Walstead!"

Cranston's nods kept time with Margo's eager comments. Then the girl showed worry.

"Would it be right," she asked, "to help Royce put himself in danger? I'd be doing it, if I posed for that princess portrait."

"Royce has no trouble finding models," reminded Cranston. "If you refuse, he will choose someone else. I could depend on you to help out, Margo, if you were the girl on hand when the Chinese arrived."

Margo's nod was her agreement. Dropping her at the apartment, Cranston rode back to the club to see his friend, the commissioner. From the front seat, Moe heard a strangely whispered laugh, that was not Cranston's.

It was the laugh of The Shadow. His turn had arrived to shape a trap for the followers of the notorious Shang Chou!

CHAPTER IX. THE DRAGONS MEET.

MATTERS moved slowly during the few days that followed the raid at Dayland's. The police had gained no clue to the missing Chinese; nor had Dr. Tam. The Shadow had identified some of the Chinese that Tam had listed as members of the Dragon Cult, but it was not conclusive evidence against them.

As Tam pointed out, in his solemn style, mere membership in the cult could not be considered a crime.

Furthermore, Shang Chou had every right to guard his own preserves, and others could legitimately serve him.

By the unwritten law of Chinatown, The Shadow, otherwise Ying Ko, had trespa.s.sed at his own risk.

He, in turn, had such privilege, provided he was willing to take the consequences of capture.

Most important were the alibis, and most unfortunately all the suspected Chinese had them. Certain men had been absent from their shops and other places prior to the raid at Dayland's, which indicated that they could have attended a cult meeting. Some had likewise been missing when The Shadow invaded Shang Chou's premises, and a few tallied with men that The Shadow had recognized.

But none had been away from Chinatown while crime was happening at Dayland's, and that was the real problem. The only way to break the Dragon Cult, and bring Shang Chou to grief, was to trap at least a few of the members while they were actually partic.i.p.ating in crime. Such, at least, was the way that Dr.

Tam would like it.

Tam said as much to The Shadow when the two held an early evening meeting.

"You may not agree, Ying Ko," declared Tam, "but your problems are not the same as mine. I must preserve my prestige in Chinatown. I cannot show malice toward any faction. Unless I have a proven case, I would be severely criticized - and justly so, for stirring agitation against someone like Shang Chou."

"In this instance," replied The Shadow, "our problems are the same, Tam. I have not forgotten that yourinformation gave me my first lead to Shang Chou."

With a bow, Dr. Tam acknowledged the compliment.

"The way is prepared for the thing that you desire," The Shadow continued. "There will be opportunity for Shang Chou to attempt new crime. In fact, two opportunities."

This time, Tam smiled blandly.

"One is hardly an opportunity," he declared. "The police are protecting Louis Walstead as though he were more precious than his own jewels. But I have heard" - Tam tilted his head wisely - "that Burton Royce considers himself immune from danger."

"He is bringing his gems from storage this evening -"

"A fact that I have already heard," interposed Tam. "That is why I say that Royce believes he is immune.

Otherwise, he would be requesting police protection; something which he has not done."

It wasn't surprising that Tam had heard the news. The one place where Royce had talked openly about his gems was in Chinatown. He had gone there more than once, trying to identify some of Dayland's a.s.sa.s.sins. He had boasted of his gems and how he intended to bring them to his studio. He had talked both in English and in Chinese, the latter a language which he spoke quite fluently.

"Royce will be protected," The Shadow told Tam. "Whether he wishes it or not. One thing more, Tam: you have heard nothing from Chenma?"

Tam shook his head, quite worried.

"No word at all," he declared. "I doubt that Shang Chou can have harmed her, but she may be closely watched. I am sure, however, that we shall hear from her after the Dragon Cult meets again."

THE SHADOW shared the opinion of Dr. Tam. Leaving, under cover of dusk, he stopped by a few windows and noticed that certain Chinese were all in place. On his way from Chinatown, he noted that police were fewer than before but that Tam's men were still on patrol. He noted other faces - those of Americans who had been at Dayland's.

Among them, The Shadow saw Garvin and Feldon, dining in a Chinese restaurant. Weston had encouraged such individuals to frequent Chinatown, on the long chance that they might spot some of the unwanted Chinese who had raided Dayland's home.

There was one thing more.

As he pa.s.sed the blind alley where the wicket door had been, The Shadow saw only a blank brick wall.

Some of Shang Chou's stealthy servers had removed the door from the outside. Perhaps Shang Chou had wanted The Shadow to see that fresh new wall, merely to remind him that he would have no further opportunity of locating Shang Chou's hidden lair.

The Shadow held his own opinions on that subject. He was banking heavily on Chenma. But in remembering Chenma, The Shadow had not forgotten Margo.