After leaving Chinatown, The Shadow stopped near Royce's studio, which was located near Greenwich Village. The studio was on the top floor of a four-story building, and its skylight was dark, indicating that Royce had not arrived there. However, other persons had. The Shadow contacted them in the darkness behind the studio building.

They were The Shadow's agents.

They were holding the place well covered. Not only were agents outside; they were within, too. Harry Vincent had rented a studio underneath Royce's. To a man, they would be right on call, when needed.

This evening would be the real beginning of their vigil, for Royce intended to start the Javanese painting tonight, with Margo as his model.

As Cranston, The Shadow stopped by at Margo's, and found her quite serene. She recognized the danger of her coming mission, but did not regard it as an ordeal. She gave a nod when Cranston reminded her to take a gun along.

"The first sitting will be very short," said Margo. "Royce will work for only an hour or so. He has invited some friends to drop in for a party."

"Which friends?" inquired Cranston casually.

"The cafe set," Margo replied. "Errol Garvin, Don Feldon, and several others. I'll call Harry Vincent and invite him up. Of course, there will be some girls there, too."

"Disappointed blondes, I suppose?"

"Very probably," returned Margo. "But you're the person who will be really disappointed. Royce didn't suggest that I invite you to the party."

"I might come, anyway, Margo."

With that cryptic remark, Cranston left - and Margo, nodding to herself, understood exactly what he meant. If uninvited. Cranston would probably arrive as The Shadow, to make sure that Royce's jewels would be safe.

Reaching the Cobalt Club, Cranston found his friend Weston there, with three others. Marne, Walstead and Royce were all present, discussing the Dayland case. Each seemed to regard it from a different viewpoint.

Marne was demanding that the police show some skill at finding Dayland's murderers. He termed his friend's death a mild outrage, when compared with the inefficiency that the police had shown. Marne practically suggested that Weston arrest the whole of Chinatown, to hold a general police line-up.

"We are watching the quarter," Weston told him. "More closely than anyone supposes. I have stationed men on the outskirts, to check on any suspicious-looking Chinese who leave. That is far better than having police parade the streets."

"Neither is good enough," declared Marne, as he arose to leave. "Before you have finished with this, commissioner, you will agree that I am right."

As soon as Marne had gone, Walstead prodded Weston with his angle. He didn't think that his apartment was properly protected. When Weston reminded him that Inspector Cardona and five detectives had been stationed there on steady duty, Walstead argued that there had been more than six Chinese at Dayland's.

Weston finally agreed to add two more detectives to the detail. Walstead left, accompanied by two headquarters men, who were to see him home as bodyguards and report to Cardona for further duty. It was then that Royce relieved the tension by a.s.serting his viewpoint of the case.

"I don't believe those Chinese came from Chinatown," declared Royce. "I'd say they were outsiders, mere rovers who dropped in at Dayland's."

"I wish you could prove that theory, Royce," a.s.serted the commissioner. "It would spare me a lot of criticism."

"I might, if I can think of a way," said Royce, rather casually. Then, as he arose, he added: "By the way, Cranston, I'm giving a studio party this evening. I wish you would drop over sometime after ten o'clock."

Smiling acceptance, Cranston shook hands with Royce. His smile could have meant that he had a coming surprise for Margo. It might also have signified that Cranston was thinking in terms of an earlier surprise.

Royce had made no mention of his own jewels to Weston. Any police protection would therefore apply to Walstead only, a fact which might have much bearing on events to come.

EXPRESSING his regret that he couldn't dine with Weston, Cranston left soon after Royce had gone.

His course led back to Chinatown, and on the way, he became The Shadow.

He was using Moe's cab again, and the trip was delayed somewhat by a Chinatown bus that lumbered ahead, carrying its usual quota of sightseers.

In Chinatown, The Shadow stopped at Tam's to learn of any new developments. Finding none, he started on one of his inspection tours. As on his first night's patrol, he crossed the path of a procession from the rubberneck bus.

Business was booming for the Chinatown tours, thanks to the publicity caused by recent crimes. To the gawking sightseers, every man who wore a Chinese jacket might be a secret member of a very dangerous cult.

So the guides told them, and for once, the spielers were correct. Pa.s.sing many windows, The Shadow observed their placid occupants and picked out the very men in question.

He looked about for some of Weston's amateur helpers, like Garvin and Feldon, and saw that they had gone. The Shadow doubted that any of them could single out and remember any Chinese faces.

But The Shadow could remember such countenances. Just after the Chinatown bus rumbled away with its load of pa.s.sengers, he noted that certain Chinese were missing from their windows. It wasn't that they had simply decided to display themselves no longer because the tourist crop had lulled. The Shadow could see a deeper reason. The Dragon Cult was meeting again, tonight.

If Shang Chou called for lightning crime, it would strike in one of two places: at Walstead's apartment or Royce's studio. Both places were well guarded - one openly, the other secretly. As yet, The Shadow was unneeded.

He might be, later, and when the time came, he would make his choice. Rather, the choice depended upon someone else, who, so far, had proven an unfailing ally. The Shadow was thinking of Chenma.

A whispered laugh stirred Tam's lower doorway as The Shadow started up to see his Chinese friend.

Tam's would be the place where The Shadow would receive the expected message, guiding him to crime's goal.

Others, already on guard, would be strong enough to hold crime in abeyance until The Shadow arrived tospell a finish to the schemes of Shang Chou!

CHAPTER X. WITHIN THE LAIR.

IN a lavish suite of rooms furnished in Oriental style, Chenma, the Manchu princess, was seated at a little writing table. She was making entries in her diary, recording everything that might prove of value to Ying Ko when she met The Shadow again.

She would meet Ying Ko; of that, Chenma was positive, though of late, her range had been curtailed.

Shang Chou, the man who claimed to be her uncle, had informed her that unkind enemies were troubling him, and that he had therefore been forced to restrict his present domain. Doors that had hitherto been open would, of necessity, be closed, even to Chenma.

The girl had accepted the edict with the obedience that characterized the true Manchu. All the while, she had been depending on another man to counteract it. Chenma was thinking in terms of her friend Tseng, the Manchu doorman who guarded the portals of the room where the Dragon Cult met.

She was sure that she would hear from Tseng soon. Listening from her own door, Chenma had heard sounds that indicated visitors, and had recorded the fact in her diary, naming the time to the dot. By this time, she was sure, she would hear from Tseng - and footsteps, coming closer, filled her with elation.

Hurriedly, Chenma tucked her diary in a hidden compartment of a Chinese music box, a memento that her parents had given her when she was a little child.

It was Tseng's knock that Chenma heard at the door. She opened the portal and saw the doorman.

Tseng was much older than Shang Chou. Very wrinkled of face, with draping beard and eyes that peered through spectacles, he looked like an ancient counselor. Like Shang Chou, Tseng wore a skullcap, but it was plain black, instead of silver.

Tseng talked only Chinese, and it was difficult to understand his singsong when he whispered. So Chenma beckoned him within the door, and asked: "What of the meeting, Tseng?"

"It has not yet been held," replied Tseng. "The men that you heard depart were workers."

"Engaged upon what work?"

"I do not know," Tseng replied, "unless it is to build more barriers. Your esteemed uncle has been much worried of late."

"How soon will the meeting be?"

"Very soon, princess. But I come to advise you of something else. Shang Chou will invite you to this meeting."

The news thrilled Chenma. Shang Chou had often promised to introduce her to the Dragon Cult. Fearing that something might spoil the situation, she gestured Tseng from the room, but as he left, she queried: "You have found another outlet like the wicket door?"

"I believe so," a.s.sured Tseng. "I shall inform you afterward. I must hasten; I hear new visitors arriving."

Before she closed the door, Chenma glimpsed Tseng as he stopped at the entrance to the meeting room,just past the corner of a pa.s.sage. She caught brief sight of a Chinese face, heard a man babble his credentials to the bearded doorman. Closing, the door, Chenma took out her diary again and made another notation, after which, she hid the book again.

AT least a half-hour pa.s.sed before Shang Chou announced himself with an imperious knock. Answering the door, Chenma was informed that she was to attend a Dragon Cult meeting, Instead of taking her around the corner to the portal that Tseng guarded, Shang Chou conducted Chenma in the other direction. She glanced back, hoping for a glimpse of Tseng, but the doorman was evidently too cautious to show himself.

Shang Chou led the way through his own apartment, which was about the size of Chenma's. They went through several rooms, finally reaching a pair of silken curtains which Shang Chou spread, to reveal a silver door. Pressing a hidden catch, he slid the door aside, and for the first time, Chenma found herself within the meeting room of the Dragon Cult.

She had expected something very garish; instead, the room was furnished quite plainly. Its walls were hung with silver, and, to Chenma's surprise, there was no symbol of a dragon as a decoration. She had always thought of the cult meeting in a room where dragons predominated, and the simplicity of the place puzzled her. As for the men of the Dragon Cult, they were nothing novel.

Chenma remembered most of them. She'd seen them, months ago, when she had been free to wander about Chinatown. Later, they had come here to serve as bricklayers on the night of The Shadow's partial invasion. None were wearing uncommon costumes; they had on the simple Chinese jackets. Shang Chou, in his silver robe, was the outstanding member of the lot.

In the meeting room, however, were two objects that attracted Chenma's notice. One was a squatly idol, perched upon a pedestal in one corner. It was a very heavy idol, and it was made entirely of silver.

Considering that it was life size, it must be very valuable. Chenma did not know the weight of silver, in such proportions, but she was sure the idol weighed at least half a ton.

It had an ugly, glaring face that Chenma had never seen upon a similar statue. Obligingly, Shang Chou introduced the creature to his niece.

"This is Yatku," he declared. "The ancient deity of power, forgotten through the centuries that have pa.s.sed since the Shang dynasty reigned. Yatku in the symbol of the stern rule that I shall give to China."

He turned to the other corner, pointing out the second object that interested Chenma. The object was a stone well top, set in the floor. It was fully a yard across, and when Chenma approached at her uncle's beck, she looked far into the depths, to see her own reflection in water that must have been fifty feet beneath.

"The Well of Wisdom," proclaimed Shang Chou. "Symbolic of the Chou dynasty. Wisdom, as an adjunct to power, makes its owner too formidable for any to oppose."

In place of power and wisdom, Shang Chou should have stated cruelty and shrewdness. He had named two virtues, instead of the pair of vices that were his stock in trade. Chenma found herself wondering more about the old well than the silver idol in the other corner.

Quite obviously, Shang Chou could have molded the silver statue of Yatku from precious metal supplied him by his dupes, the Dragon Cult men. But the well must have been in this room long before Shang Chou came. Chenma knew that this headquarters was under the level of the streets that ran throughChinatown; still, that did not explain the well.

Chenma decided, finally, that it must be a relic of old New York, that Shang Chou had come across by accident and decided to use as a symbol. It was certainly very old, that well, because Chenma had observed the mossy condition of its stone sides when she looked down into the water, far below.

She wondered if there were any other symbols that Shang Chou regarded as important, and she learned, quite promptly, that there was a third.

It happened to be Chenma, herself.

Taking his niece by her silken sleeve, Shang Chou turned her toward the throng. Then, in Chinese, the language that he always spoke, he announced: "This is Chenma, princess of the Manchu dynasty. She is my niece, and because of her, I have the right to rule. Into the Manchu throne I shall instill the power of the Shang, the wisdom of the Chou. I, Shang Chou, shall reign, and you will be my favorite subjects!"

THOSE ringing words were drowned by the acclaim of Shang Chou's followers, and Chenma quivered with a fever of hate toward this man who termed himself her uncle.

He did not deserve the right to rule, even over these fools who owned him as their master. He was using Chenma simply to influence any dupes who might have leanings toward the Manchus.

Steadying, Chenma felt herself begin to sway at the insidious statements which followed. With effort, she managed to regain her calm, that she might hear, in full, the lies with which Shang Chou had built his rule over the Dragon Cult.

"Our whole thought is for China," Shang Chou declared. "Some of you may believe that others have been too ardent in their appointed missions; that in seeking one thing, they should not have taken others - such as these."

He stooped and produced a casket from beneath an ebony stand. The casket was of ivory, and when Shang Chou opened it, Chenma saw the glitter of many gems. She knew what they represented: they were the spoils of the Dayland robbery and others that had preceded it.

But Chenma could not understand how Shang Chou could justify such wholesale theft - until he came to a new climax. As he laid the large casket aside, he declared: "Those gems had to be taken. Otherwise, people would have suspected our real desire. These!"

From a slit in his silver robe, Shang Chou produced some objects that Chenma thought must be emeralds, considering how highly he prized them. But when he laid them on the ebony stand, she saw that they were jade.

Each piece was triangular, and just about large enough for Chenma to take within the curve of her thumb and forefinger. However, she resisted the temptation to touch the jade pieces, though she admired their carving and their apple-green hue.

Then Shang Chou was arranging the jade objects, and Chenma stared in new wonderment.

Though separate, each was a segment in a long line, that Shang Chou placed in order. They made up an articulated stretch that had the shape of a dragon. Of a dozen pieces, only three were missing. There was an absent section in the dragon's back; and the jade creature had neither head nor tail. "When the Jade Dragon is completed," announced Shang Chou, "it will mean that my power is absolute.

All who know the secret lore of China will rally to my cause. Centuries have pa.s.sed since the Jade Dragon was divided among the faithful mandarins. Their descendants waited long years to a.s.semble it, yet never did.

"When evil days befell our land, those who owned segments of the Jade Dragon let them pa.s.s from their possession. Each precious piece came to America. I came here to reclaim them, and with your aid, my followers, I have gained all but three. Tonight, we shall seek one more!"

Again, the members of the Dragon Cult voiced their enthusiasm, and Chenma could almost sympathize with them, until Shang Chou added: "And remember! No one must know our purpose. Therefore, all other gems you find must be brought here with the segments of priceless Jade.

Such was Shang Chou's way of covering the wholesale robbery to which he committed his dupes. He wanted more than the Jade Dragon. He wanted the wealth of the hapless collectors, men like Dayland, who owned a portion of the dragon without knowing what it represented.

When Shang Chou specified that no one must know the purpose of the robberies, he was endorsing murder. There was always a chance that a victim might mention a curious piece of jade that had gone with his stolen jewels!

THEN, as Chenma looked on helplessly, Shang Chou demonstrated the system whereby he chose the men who were to serve both as robbers and killers. From his robe, he produced a batch of square papers, which he shuffled, face down, between his hands.

"Of these papers," he declared, "some are marked with the symbol of Shang Chou, while others are blank. Those that bear the symbol tell which of our members shall fare forth upon our stated mission. I have chosen the exact number required."

He dealt the slips to the men about him. Chenma saw the Chinese take furtive glances at their respective slips, then tear them to tiny shreds without revealing which were marked and which were blank.

As they scattered the minute fragments, they turned and left by the outer portal Chenma was looking after them, hoping to see Tseng, when Shang Chou plucked her sleeve and ordered: "Come!"

He led Chenma back to her own apartment, and as soon as she had closed the door, the girl paced frantically. She remembered everything so vividly, that she knew she could record it later.

If only Tseng would keep his promise and enable her to get word to Dr. Tam! Word that Tseng would have to personally provide, for Chenma had reached the meeting too late to learn an all-important fact: namely, who the victim of tonight's crime would be.

At last, the knock that Chenma knew was Tseng's. She opened the door and saw the bearded doorkeeper beckon. She started to speak, but he raised one hand to his lips warningly; with the other, he pointed toward Shang Chou's apartment. With a nod, Chenma followed Tseng.

Up steps, along twisted pa.s.sages, through doorways that were secret panels, Tseng brought Chenma to a small window that overlooked the corner of an alley. He gave her a folded bit of newspaper, and spoke quickly: "Number One man."

Then Tseng had left, to watch for any approach of Shang Chou. Opening the paper, Chenma found it to be a newspaper clipping which showed three portraits in a horizontal row. They were pictures of men who were the closest friends of the latest murder victim, Herbert Dayland.

From left to right, Chenma read the names of the three men: Louis Walstead, Alexander Marne, Burton Royce.

Tseng had said, "Number One man." On a slip of paper, Chenma wrote the name of Louis Walstead, the first in the line. She peered from the window, saw a Chinese in American garb just within the corner of the alley. Knowing that he must be one of Tam's patrollers, Chenma tapped against the pane.

The man looked up. All he saw was the paper slip that Chenma slid beneath the window crack and sent fluttering down to its eager receiver.