The opposition was more sudden, more daring than The Shadow had antic.i.p.ated. His hands still gripped his guns; but his fists were high. No chance to thin these unexpected fighters before they threw him back into the darkness where death awaited.

There was an answer, though, to this dilemma. The stubborn grapple of the dozen attaches offered the solution.

They wanted to get The Shadow out of sight before his presence was known.

They could not use guns within sight and hearing of the ballroom, without risking too much. The Shadow, however, had opportunity to do the very thing that his antagonists avoided.

The Shadow pressed the trigger of one upraised gun; then the other. His high shots were timed to a break in the music. The reports were heard near the doorway of the ballroom. Dancers stopped their waltz; looked toward the scene of battle, where The Shadow was completely hidden amid the horde of attackers.

Again, The Shadow fired. Women shrieked. Men sprang out into the great hall. Commotion was sweeping the ballroom, as more persons heard the sound of the volley. The music halted.

The Shadow delivered a last shot that was heard by every one. More guests were dashing to the scene of strife. More than half the attaches sprang away from The Shadow, hoping to halt the surge of arriving persons.

The Shadow broke loose from the remainder. It was no longer possible to keep him hidden. Secret intrigue was coming to light. The one danger that the emba.s.sy feared - open strife that would demand an explanation - had become The Shadow's threat.

SOME one was ready for the emergency. As a few despairing legation men made a grab for The Shadow, every light in the emba.s.sy went out. A key-man had pulled the master-switch, to blanket the scene in total darkness.

The bedlam that broke was terrific. None of the many guests knew what had happened. People were pouring for doors and windows. Only The Shadow, cornered by the cloak room, knew that grim attaches were still seeking an elusive fighter who had slipped them.

Stepping sidewise in the darkness, The Shadow blundered upon a man who uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n in English. Instantly, other persons had shouldered up.

The Shadow grabbed the chance man who had come from the ballroom; stifled his next cry and spoke quickly in the foreign tongue that the attaches understood.

"I have him!" expressed The Shadow. "Quick! Get him out of sight! Through here -"

The Shadow was shoving the man into the cloak room. Three attaches aided him with his burden. The victim floundered, offering no resistance. The Shadow shifted away as the group went through the doorway. He heard the door slamshut.

Quickly, The Shadow followed the wall to the door of the pa.s.sage that led to Creelon's. He heard the whispered news pa.s.sing him. The prisoner had been taken. Creelon's men could go back to their own preserves.

Footsteps hurried away through the pa.s.sage. The Shadow moved softly through the doorway; waited there, until he heard the door being locked behind him. Ten seconds more, The Shadow was on his way to the pa.s.sage that led out through the side of the building.

When he reached the outdoors, the emba.s.sy was still dark; the orchestra was trying hopelessly to resume its music, as a method to avert further panic.

Cutting through to a rear street, The Shadow saw a car pulling from the curb.

It was Bryland's. The Shadow had noted it while coming here in the cab with Nina.

The Shadow reached a taxi; there were several stationed in the rear street. Jumping in, he gave orders to the driver, telling him to follow the car ahead.

The Shadow's quiet tone impressed the taxi man. The fellow knew that something must have happened in the emba.s.sy, and decided that his pa.s.senger was a special officer, seeking a trail of a trouble-maker.

THE emba.s.sy lights came on as the cab pulled away. The sounds of confusion ended. The Shadow's whispered laugh told that he could visualize the next events that would occur there.

Gloves off, The Shadow produced a tiny tube of cold cream, to do away with the olive tint of his make-up and restore his usual visage, that of Cranston.

The panic had ended abruptly, back in the emba.s.sy ballroom. Lights, a sudden swell of music, the efforts of the attaches, combined to stop the tumult. The ground floor was huge; there had been few injuries. Members of the legation were explaining that a demented crank had started the trouble; that his gun had been taken away. Excited chatter died as the waltz was resumed.

In the closed cloak room, a trio of attaches were making profound apologies to a puffing man who sat sprawled in a chair, his evening clothes torn and askew. Indignantly, he was identifying himself as a guest who had come here with the party from the British legation.

The attaches were explaining that there had been an error. In the darkness, the guest had been mistaken for the intruder who had delivered the gunshots. They were sorry, very sorry. Full amends would be made for the error.

The s.p.a.ce past the cloak room had cleared. The door to the pa.s.sage opened; Toyne appeared, his face serious. He had carried the news of The Shadow's escape to Creelon.

Across the grand hall, Toyne saw Nina Valencita talking with others who still discussed the excitement that had disturbed the ball. Nina caught Toyne's signal. She joined the secretary.

Toyne conducted the senorita to Creelon's reception room. The master-spy was there alone, standing beside the fireplace, his face showing the evil-glow that the firelight alone could give it. Tersely, Creelon recounted what had happened.

Nina remembered the Count of Santurnia; realized at once how The Shadow had arrived here. Creelon showed displeasure when he learned how both Nina andBryland had been duped. A moment later, the spy regained his composure.

"Bryland left by the front door, during the commotion," he told Nina. "We are certain of that. There is a chance, however, that The Shadow followed him.

Wherever he is, Bryland must be found and warned!"

"I understand," returned Nina. "You are giving me the task. I shall enjoy it."

Nina Valencita was smiling when she left the reception room. From what Creelon had told her, the Spanish senorita had formed a prompt opinion regarding Bryland's next destination.

Confident that The Shadow had been delayed sufficiently to lose the trail, Nina believed that she would be the first again to find Frederick Bryland.

CHAPTER XV.

BLONDE AND BRUNETTE.

THE SHADOW was finding Bryland's trail a slippery one. The crook knew the streets and avenues of Washington and was using them to good advantage. Where angled boulevards cut through, making mazes out of crisscrossed thoroughfares, Bryland performed sharp turns and cut-backs that bewildered the driver of The Shadow's cab.

The worst of the situation was that Bryland soon knew that he was followed. He picked an avenue where traffic lights were numerous and police in evidence. Keeping a full block ahead, he halted at red lights, leaving The Shadow's cab stopped a block behind.

Bryland knew that The Shadow could not risk going through the red, nor calling in the aid of the police. In either event, the delay would mean the loss of the trail. Hence, Bryland was willing to dawdle until he found a chance to shake The Shadow entirely.

The Shadow's cab stopped in traffic, alongside some other taxis parked at the curb. The light went green; the driver started ahead. Bryland kept one block's advantage. Soon The Shadow's cab stopped again when the light turned red. The driver leaned back in protest.

"There's no use tryin' to follow that guy," he growled. "He'll take us up and down the avenue, makin' monkeys out of us -"

The cabby stopped short. He was talking to vacancy. Street lights at this brilliant corner showed the interior of the cab deserted. On the rear seat was a five-dollar bill, the vanished pa.s.senger's payment.

The traffic light went green. The cabby heard horns toot behind him. He swung about, stalled his motor in his confusion. The light went red again. The chase was over, even if that cabby had wanted to pursue it alone.

ANOTHER cab had taken advantage of the green light. It was one that had been parked a few blocks back; and it carried the mysterious pa.s.senger whom the first driver had lost. The Shadow had made a speedy transfer of cabs, choosing a fresh vehicle that scarcely resembled the first one. That was not difficult in Washington.

The first cab had been a lumbering old taxi that looked its part. The Shadow's present conveyance resembled an ordinary sedan. The Shadow had designed the shift to mislead Bryland; and it worked. The crook, peering from his window, saw that the original cab was no longer behind him. He took the first right turn that offered.

From then on, Bryland's course was direct. He was watchful, still keeping tabs to make sure the cab did not bob up in back of him. He never suspectedThe Shadow's new cab. Hence, when Bryland made another turn from an angled avenue, The Shadow knew that the crook's trip was nearing its end. The Shadow ordered his driver to keep ahead and stop beyond the corner.

Looking along the street, The Shadow saw Bryland's car slow almost to a stop and enter a driveway. Paying his driver, The Shadow spoke in Cranston's calm tone, asking him if he could obtain a car for private hire. The driver said that he could arrange it.

Noting the number of the first house on the side street, The Shadow told the cabby to have the car sent there; that he would be ready for it later.

There was convenient darkness near the corner curb. The Shadow stepped forth, blended with the gloom of a fence-topped brick wall and waited while the cab pulled away.

Following the side street, The Shadow neared the driveway where Bryland had gone. Deep in from the street was a fair-sized, old-fashioned house. Its driveway ran beneath a porte-cochere, and Bryland's car was under that porchlike s.p.a.ce.

There were lights at the house door; hence The Shadow preferred another route. He followed the drive a short way; took to the lawn and reached a side porch where lighted French windows showed.

Noiselessly scaling the porch, The Shadow looked into a fair-sized living room. It was empty; but a light showed from a heavy-curtained doorway at the rear. That was the likely place where Bryland would be. The French window gave under pressure. The Shadow opened it and entered through the doorlike s.p.a.ce.

Immediately, he heard the sound of voices beyond the curtained doorway.

Gliding ghostlike through the living room, The Shadow reached the curtains and peered through. He saw Bryland, seated in the corner of a book-walled room that formed a library.

Two other persons were present. One was a girl about twenty years of age, decidedly a blonde. The other was an old, withered servant, who blinked in confused fashion from a curtained doorway that led directly to the hall.

"I MEAN it, Parcher!" snapped the girl. "You are to usher Major Bryland from this house!"

"But, Miss Leeth -"

As Parcher stammered his protest, Bryland arose; placed his hand upon the girl's shoulder. She drew away angrily; her lips were trembling as she turned toward a bookcase.

"You may go, Parcher."

It was Bryland who gave the suave order. Parcher mumbled grateful thanks and hobbled out to the hall. Bryland stepped closer to Martha. The girl faced him suddenly, biting her lips.

"I just came from the ball," remarked Bryland. "I had to stop there. One can't ignore a foreign emba.s.sy's invitation."

"You left on my account?"

Martha's words showed sudden interest. Bryland replied in persuasive tone; his deep eyes were hypnotic: "Of course, you silly girl! You know I love you."

"Was - was she at the emba.s.sy ball?"

"Senorita Valencita? I suppose so. She is probably expecting me to ask her for the next dance."

Martha gave a grateful sob. She entwined her arms about Bryland's shoulders. He kissed her forehead as she choked: "You - you do love me, Frederick. I'm happy - proud - but I was jealous.

I.

couldn't be otherwise -" "We are going away together, Martha," soothed Bryland. "Just you and I, where we can have ourselves alone. I have longed for that to be possible.

To-night, I am telling you that it really is to be. Our only obstacle is gone.

I shall have money, as much as we shall ever need."

Martha's eyes were unbelieving. Bryland's smile rea.s.sured her.

"Only a few days longer, darling," he declared. "Then you can join me in Havana. I am leaving Norfolk early in the morning. My wealth awaits me in Cuba.

Our wealth, Martha. I shall write you where to meet me. One day by plane and you will be with me. We shall go everywhere, Martha. To Europe - the Orient -"

"Truly, Frederick?"

"I mean it, Martha!" Bryland felt that he had convinced the girl. He changed to a matter-of-fact tone. "There is something, though, that you must do for me."

Drawing Martha to a settee, Bryland brought pencil and paper from his pocket. He was methodical; and his manner held the girl as effectively as his soothing measures. Martha seemed eager to learn Bryland's purpose as he carefully wrote a series of words.

"You remember that short-wave radio set I gave you?" queried Bryland.

"The one with the mixer that I invented?"

"Of course," laughed Martha. "I sent you messages over it. It is in the little room upstairs, just as you left it."

"I want you to send this message. It will seem garbled to you; but the person who receives it will tune in as I instructed. You must send it at once, Martha. It will prove that my invention can succeed. It will mean the wealth that I have promised."

RISING, Bryland gave Martha the paper; held out his arms for a last embrace. The Shadow, watching, knew the importance of the message. Coded amid the jumbled words was the information that Creelon wanted. Bryland had instructed the spy to tune in for the short-wave message.

Triumph seemed close for The Shadow. Once Bryland was gone, he could enter. The Shadow could block the sending of the message. He could convince Martha of its real purpose; he could solve the hidden content and learn the hiding place of the National Emergency Code.

Then came the event that balked The Shadow's hope. Martha supplied it with a sudden exclamation. Moving away from Bryland, she spoke her doubt of all that he had told her.

"You left the ball on my account!" expressed the girl, scornfully. "That was what you insisted, until I believed you. At last I have the truth! You want to leave for Norfolk. That was the reason why you did not remain at the emba.s.sy.

"And where are you going from Norfolk? To Havana, a city where Senorita Valencita would gladly go. And who could be the person who is to receive this message? Again, Senorita Valencita. And who can supply the money that you want?

Probably Senorita -"

"Nonsense!" Bryland snapped the word as he seized Martha's shoulders. His shake silenced the girl. "Use reason, Martha. Why should I need to send a message to Nina?"

"To Nina!" retorted Martha. "Apparently you know her quite well, Frederick. You have admitted that the message is for her. Go; take it to her yourself!" "The message is not for Senorita Valencita. If I could explain its real purpose, you would understand."

"Explain it, then."

"It is too serious a matter, Martha. I swear, though, that no woman is concerned."

Bryland's tone carried a real earnestness. Martha weakened. Her eyes were solemnly expressive as they met Bryland's. Pleadingly, the girl declared: "You must trust me, Frederick. Otherwise, we can never be happy. You know that I love you beyond my home - beyond my family -"

"Beyond your country?"

"Yes! Why not? Your life is to be my life!"

Calmly, Bryland took the paper from Martha's hand. In a low, deliberate tone, he explained: "This message concerns the National Emergency Code. I possess it. I am selling it for a million dollars. Look; I shall show you how the key-words tell where the NEC is hidden. When you send this message, Martha -"

THE girl's audible gasp halted Bryland. The coldness of his treacherous words had broken his spell for her. Looking toward Martha, the crook no longer saw the trustful expression of an infatuated girl. He was met by the gaze of a patriot. Bryland had put the truth too bluntly. Martha had forgotten her foolish promise while he spoke.

Boldly, the girl was reaching for the paper; her lips were opened, to give a call for Parcher. Bryland blocked both moves as he stepped back; he whipped a revolver from his pocket and leveled it toward the girl. His snapped command halted Martha's outcry.