In State room BX, the three found Walstead's body. The steward was crouched beside the dead man; he looked up and shook his head. Walstead had tried to moan a few words, the steward said, but hadn't been able to make them coherent. The dying statement might have been something about a suitcase the Chinese had taken with them.

"Walstead's jewels!" exclaimed Marne. "He talked about them this afternoon, commissioner. He said they weren't safe in his apartment; that he was going to put them some place better."

"Which he did," added Weston grimly. "Right into the hands of those Chinese robbers!"

"If he'd only told me he was coming here," a.s.serted Marne, "instead of writing a note and leaving it! He'd been talking about taking a cruise, but he hadn't said when he was going, or where. I thought I'd find him at the apartment, this evening."

"So did I," affirmed Weston. "Instead, we've found him here and look at the greeting he has given us!"

Weston was referring to the death stare on Walstead's face, an expression that seemed to register both horror and despair. Noting it, Marne gave a slow, sad nod.

There were other eyes, however, that met Walstead's gla.s.sy stare. They were the eyes of The Shadow.

Peering from the calm features of Cranston, those eyes seemed to interpret Walstead's fixed gaze. Death was greeting The Shadow, in no uncertain terms.

It was death that demanded vengeance of the sort that only The Shadow could deliver. In return, instead of a whispered laugh, The Shadow delivered the thinnest of smiles in the style of Lamont Cranston.

That smile told that Walstead's death would be avenged. The Shadow, hereafter, could toy with the schemes of Shang Chou.

The Shadow knew!

CHAPTER XVI. THE DRAGON'S BROOD.

WITHIN her door, Chenma was watching, listening, for signs of anyone who might approach. She wasn't merely fearful that Shang Chou would arrive; tonight, she didn't want even Tseng to come. Much though she trusted the Manchu doorman, Chenma did not want him to glimpse her present visitor.

That visitor was Ying Ko, The Shadow.

A day had pa.s.sed since the death of Louis Walstead and the disappearance of the Chinese who had murdered him. All last night the police had scoured Chinatown, and had continued their search the next day.

By dusk, the vigil had begun to relax, though it would not have deterred The Shadow in his present visit.

Coming to confer with Chenma, he simply reported the outside situation as a matter of course.

At present, The Shadow was reading Chenma's diary. Hearing a whispered comment, the girl turned from the door. The Shadow was asking her about the meeting nights. "Always, Tseng reports when the meetings begin," declared Chenma. "As I have written it, Ying Ko."

"But sometimes you have heard early comers -"

"Yes when Shang Chou needs workers here. Tseng tells me that Shang Chou had been drawing the barriers tighter."

The Shadow studied the diary again, then asked Chenma if she thought that Shang Chou mistrusted Tseng. Chenma's headshake was not a negative; instead, it expressed doubt.

"Shang Chou sees Tseng privately," Chenma explained. "I have never been present to observe them.

Sometimes, Shang Chou sends me to look for Tseng; often, Tseng tells me to wait here because Shang Chou intends to visit me. Never, however, does Shang Chou let us be together in his presence. Perhaps it is because he knows that we are both Manchus."

The Shadow put the diary back in its hiding place. Chenma had told him that Tseng expected the Dragon Cult to meet quite soon, and was already at his door. The Shadow suggested that Chenma tell him it would not be necessary to let her know when the meeting began, so the girl went out to do so.

When she returned, she saw The Shadow beckoning her toward Shang Chou's own apartment. They went through to the silver door that led into the meeting room.

There, on the taboret, lay the slips of paper which Shang Chou always distributed among the Dragon Cult men. On the previous night, The Shadow had gone through those slips to see how many bore the mark of Shang Chou, the symbol designating those who were to partic.i.p.ate in coming crime.

As before, The Shadow picked up the slips and studied them. Watching from the silver door, Chenma was sure that she heard a whispered laugh come from his lips. At least, The Shadow was learning how many of Shang Chou's followers were to embark upon another crime.

Chenma decided, however, that it would not help him much, since he could not know which men would be chosen. That was always decided by lot, after Shang Chou shuffled the paper tokens.

Yet there was something in The Shadow's subdued tone that made Chenma believe he had made a real discovery. As he laid the slips aside and began to turn her way, Chenma stepped forward. Her tiny hand was in a fold of her quaint robe, clutching a small revolver.

As she approached The Shadow, she threw a glance toward the main door of the meeting room. Then, before The Shadow realized that the girl was close; even before he could reach for one of his own guns, Chenma's voice rang out harshly: "Stand as you are, Ying Ko! I have trapped you, and if you move, I shall kill you!"

His figure riveted, The Shadow let his eyes travel the rest of the way about. They saw the glitter of Chenma's gun, aimed straight between them. In the girl's own eyes was a glare that matched the harshness of her voice. There was only one way to read that expression.

Chenma, the girl in whom The Shadow had placed absolute trust, had turned complete traitor at this crucial time when the arrival of Shang Chou and his followers was imminent!

From The Shadow's lips crept a throbbing laugh. It could have been interpreted as mock appreciation, as though The Shadow admired cunning, even when displayed by a traitor. So, at least, a foe would have interpreted it, though a friend could have felt that the appreciation was valid. Therefore, the laugh was meant for Chenma, as she side-stepped to block The Shadow from any escape toward the main door. For, beyond the girl, The Shadow saw other faces at the portal, a dozen of them, yellow and glaring, that represented Shang Chou's followers, the men of the Dragon Cult!

They were thrusting Tseng aside so that they could enter, and in their fists flashed guns and knives. Nor were these all; a greater flood was coming. Their surge, violent and vicious, was evidence of their desire to heap penalty upon The Shadow for his illegal intrusion to their meeting room.

Quick work on Chenma's part!

She'd forgotten that Tseng would admit the members in his usual prompt style. She'd miscalculated, too, the time remaining before the meeting. By her own mistakes, Chenma had put The Shadow on the spot, and had taken the only way to rectify the error. A way which few, except The Shadow, would have realized as the method of a stanch, quick-thinking friend!

First to spy the Dragon Cult men, the Manchu girl had beaten them to their prey. Artfully had she brought The Shadow to bay; then made the quick move to corner him. In so doing, Chenma had blocked off The Shadow's real enemies; they couldn't touch him while she was in the way. Moreover, with true Manchu pride, she was gesturing them away from the object of her capture.

"We shall await Shang Chou," declared Chenma. "Meanwhile, if Ying Ko wishes" - her tone was biting - "he can try to explain what brought him here."

The Shadow saw Tseng in the corridor; watched the doorman hesitate, then close the portal. Chenma hadn't been able to call in the only man she regarded as an ally. In bluffing the Dragon Cult members she had been forced to do the same with Tseng. But Chenma, by her offer to let The Shadow speak, was doing the best thing possible. The sarcasm in her tone was false, as it had been in The Shadow's laugh.

For The Shadow did speak, in terms the glaring listeners began to understand.

He took the one theme that he knew would impress them: the fact that in choosing an honest quest, they had besmirched their very excellent reputations. The Shadow had no fault to find with their campaign to reclaim the Jade Dragon; indeed, to the wonderment of the Dragon Cult men, he endorsed it.

"You should have come to Ying Ko," spoke The Shadow in Chinese. "He would have restored the Jade Dragon, by persuading its wrongful owners to yield the trophies which were not truly theirs. Yes, I, Ying Ko, would have regained the symbol of ancient China, but not as Shang Chou did.

"He used it as a means to force you into crime, with wholesale robbery and death. Robbery from which he profited; murder which drove you deeper into evil!"

The Shadow paused; as he did, Chenma was elated by the approving buzz that came from the listeners.

Then; "You were duped," The Shadow added. "You are fearful because Shang Chou has thrown guilt upon you. But I, Ying Ko, can prove your innocence -"

IT was Chenma who interrupted, at a moment as crucial as before; a moment when The Shadow, with a few more words, could have won the majority of the Dragon Cult men to his cause.

She interrupted by springing around beside The Shadow and jabbing the point of her gun beneath his arm.

"One word more, Ying Ko," raged Chenma, "and you shall die, as I promised before!" Again, The Shadow saw the reason for Chenma's sudden shift. She had placed herself between him and the silver door. From that portal was stepping Shang Chou, his own hand bearing a revolver that made Chenma's gun look like a toy.

By her swift intervention, the Manchu girl had saved The Shadow from death, for Shang Chou was lowering his gun and relaxing the trigger finger that had been about to finish permanently The Shadow's long career.

Shang Chou's features wrinkled into a smile that was not so satisfied as it looked. Chenma had blocked his aim, and he could not harm the Manchu princess upon whom his claim to an imperial throne was established.

For her part, Chenma had cleverly strengthened her own position, and was better able to save The Shadow. She glanced triumphantly at Shang Chou, as though she sought his approval.

The Shadow saw a change in Shang Chou's smile. He understood it before Chenma did.

Chenma had made just one mistake; a tragic one, indeed. She had sworn to slay The Shadow if he resumed his speech. In her ardency to save him, she had ruined the very measure by which The Shadow could have won their mutual cause!

It was Shang Chou who did the speaking.

Shrewdly, he let Chenma keep The Shadow covered, while he put away his own gun in the pocket of his silver robe. From beneath his other arm, he drew a silver casket and opened it. The interior glistened with a ma.s.s of gems. They were Walstead's collection - as great a prize as Dayland's.

Dipping his fingers into the array, Shang Chou brushed gems aside as though the contact pained him. At last, he smiled anew, as he plucked forth another segment of jade: Walstead's portion of the famed Jade Dragon.

Stooping to the teakwood stand, Shang Chou brought forth the ivory casket and began to a.s.semble the Jade Dragon. When he came to the gap in the body, he dropped the new segment into place. The dragon was complete, except for its head.

"As for these" - Shang Chou waved toward the Walstead jewels - "we shall use them to raise funds for our cause. Since Ying Ko has conceded that the Jade Dragon is rightfully ours, he can not criticize our wish to regain the throne that it represents. As for Ying Ko -"

All this while, The Shadow had been watching Shang Chou steadily, as had Chenma. Knowing what was in Shang Chou's mind, The Shadow had pressed harder against Chenma's gun. But the girl had failed to catch the situation. She was watching for a chance to relax the gun pressure and let The Shadow spring for the silver door.

Despite The Shadow's pressure, she suddenly let the weapon slide away. It was a pretended slip, and one for which Shang Chou was watching.

Quick as a whippet, the Dragon Cult master was full about, grabbing Chenma to fling her with one hand, while his other brought his big gun from his robe. He was slinging Chenma in front of him, so that The Shadow, no matter how quickly he drew an automatic, would be unable to fire Shang Chou's way. Again the girl had become a human shield, this time against The Shadow's aim!

Nor could The Shadow dispute the case with Shang Chou, for the Dragon Cult men were in action. A horde that totaled fifty or more, they were lunging en ma.s.se to overwhelm The Shadow. Coming in fromevery angle, they left him only the corner behind him, which happened to be the one where the Well of Wisdom was located.

Unable to draw his guns because of the hands which grabbed him, The Shadow warded away spurting guns and beat off slashing knife hands. He twisted from the grapplers, made a leap to the corner, and sprang upon the stone ledge of the well.

There, with a long swing of his foot, The Shadow sent guns and knives flying from hands that were nearest him. The first comers ducked, so that a new wave might surge upon The Shadow before he delivered another telling kick.

From beside Shang Chou, Chenma saw sure death for The Shadow - death from incoming blades and aiming revolvers. But such death did not come. Instead of awaiting it, The Shadow took a side step over the well itself.

Shifting his weight, he flung his hands straight above his head, and let his other foot follow, as he took a deliberate step down into the well!

LIKE a diver with the springboard gone from under him, The Shadow plummeted from sight as knives whirred and bullets whined through the s.p.a.ce where he had been. He had escaped one death; but Chenma, knowing the great depth of the well, was sure that he had merely found another.

Shang Chou, however, was taking nothing for granted. He shouted an order that his followers obeyed. A dozen of them seized the squatty idol that was in the other corner, the silver image of Yatku, that weighed half a ton. Rushing that symbol of power to the mouth of the well, they dumped it head downward into the yawning hole where The Shadow had gone.

As he heard the ma.s.sive juggernaut go clattering full speed into the rounded pit, Shang Chou reached for the token papers that he intended to distribute among the cult members. The clang of Yatku's landing, echoing up from the well shaft, came as a final bar in the melody that Shang Chou had long wanted to hear.

Crime would proceed as Shang Chou had designed it. There would be no further interference from Ying Ko, The Shadow. Whether he had escaped all knives and bullets; whether he had survived a drop into a fifty-foot well - neither mattered.

In whatever state The Shadow had reached the well bottom - gashed, battered, or whole Yatku, the silver symbol of power, had certainly mashed him into pulp. With its squatly bulk of half a ton, the idol had bounced against the sides of the well all the way down, leaving no leeway for The Shadow to escape.

In the meeting room above, Shang Chou, as he dealt the papers, was bowing to Chenma, expressing his insidious grat.i.tude for the aid that she had given in luring The Shadow to his own doom!

CHAPTER XVII. HOUR OF CRIME.

FROM the moment that he took that bold step into the well, The Shadow knew that he had lost no part of a specialized skill that he had once acquired His travels in India had acquainted him with the famous well jumpers, familiar figures in the courts of many rajahs. Theirs was a calling practiced through generations; a trick wherein the needed knack was nerve. In a drop from any height to water underneath, the essential feature of safety was a straight, true drop.

The surrounding walls of a well shaft could be a mental hazard only, for, in any drop, the slightest deviation from the vertical would bring disaster at the finish.

People marveled at the well jumpers, without realizing the advantage that those fellows had. To step into the mouth of a well was like aiming for a rounded bull's-eye in the center of a target. Much easier than trying the same stunt in the open, with nothing to serve as a guide.

So The Shadow had tried the trick in India while touring there as Cranston, and had liked it very much.

So much, that he had done it often, and would chance it any time. For well shafts lacked wind, or dangerous air currents. They were like a welcoming vortex, once you knew them.

In his arrow trip down into Shang Chou's Well of Wisdom, The Shadow recaptured the old thrill that had come with his first well jump.

He could feel the air swooshing up past his linked hands, coming evenly from every angle. He was punching a hole right down the center, the way a good well jumper should. All that he needed for a perfect finish was water at the bottom of the well, and he found plenty.

Feet first, The Shadow chopped the waters' surface like a flat stone, knifing edgewise. He could hear the splash end with the old familiar cough as the water closed above him.

Body still straight, he bobbed up to the surface to catch the echoes from the shaft, the music that only well jumpers could appreciate. His hand pulled an automatic from his cloak; pointing the muzzle upward, The Shadow was ready to supply some music of his own, if foemen appeared above with knives and guns.

Instead, The Shadow saw the form of Yatku, tipping headfirst down the shaft. To The Shadow's ears, the melody provided by Shang Chou was terrific. The silver idol came with a roaring clang that outdid a dozen juggernauts.

Death in bulk was plunging squarely for The Shadow, and there was no way of avoiding it. The dozen feet of water that the well contained wouldn't stop the smashing impact any more than the contents of a coffeepot would halt a brick dropped endwise.

The crashing roar engulfed The Shadow, and the walls of the well rumbled like a trestle under a thundering locomotive. Clanging echoes died away in lessening waves, and there was Yatku, dead still, grinning right at The Shadow, so near that the silver image seemed to be thrusting out its face to have its jaw punched.

Halted close above The Shadow's head, Yatku had forgotten all about its human victim and wasn't coming any farther.

His fingers digging into the stone sides of the well, The Shadow was wedging himself with his spread arms, and his own action made him realize why Yatku had stopped. The idol was wedged, too. Yatku hadn't been too wide for the top of the well, but he was for the bottom.

By the light which filtered down past the jammed idol's inverted shoulders, The Shadow saw, for the first time, that the well narrowed near the bottom.

The slimy stones that The Shadow gripped gave the answer. They were loose, and water was seeping through them. Through many years of disuse, the walls of the well had pressed inward, reducing its bottom diameter by a foot or more. The Shadow had done wisely, stepping off to the very center of thewell.

If he hadn't, he would have sc.r.a.ped the side twenty feet before he reached the water. For the inward push of the lower stones had worked upon those above them, causing the well to taper a quarter of the way up.

Yatku had rammed himself headfirst into the contracting shaft, and even a thousand pounds of metal hadn't sufficed to crack it. Like a keystone driven into an arch, the idol was fixed to stay. Shang Chou would need more than a derrick to regain his silver trophy. He would have to blast to get Yatku out of his present jam.

AS for The Shadow, Yatku was his friend. The idol hadn't smashed him; it had blocked off any attack from above, besides giving Shang Chou the illusion that there was no longer any Shadow. Even more: though the idol's crashing halt hadn't bulged the well's wall back to its original shape, the trend had been that way. Stones that took the brunt of the mighty smash were forced apart, showing gaps between them.

Water, trickling through those s.p.a.ces, proved that the well was fed from a larger source. Under the sheltering shoulders of Yatku, The Shadow pried away at the stones, using the jimmy that fitted the end of his automatic.

Under such leverage, stones gave. Water gushed through, but when The Shadow prodded higher stones, he found they were above the flow, so he worked along the higher level.