"Silence!" ordered Bryland. "If there is to be noise, I shall make it!

You will come with me, or take the consequences!"

Sight of the gleaming gun riveted Martha. Trembling, the girl shrank back.

Contemptuously, Bryland was ready to pull the trigger. He cared nothing for Martha Leeth, if she chose to obstruct his schemes. He was calculating between the consequences of murder and the difficulty of carrying Martha with him.

Murder was preferable. He could slay Martha; shoot Parcher when the servant came. Those deaths would close the trail. Martha's hopeless terror did not perturb Bryland. Again, he was ready to deliver death. It was a chilling sound that halted him.

A sinister laugh, at Bryland's very elbow. A whispered echo from the past; yet so real, so close, that it shivered the crook's eardrums. No one could have ignored that sardonic challenge. It carried a menace that could make the hearer forget all else. Instinctively, Bryland wheeled toward the front door of the room.

Five feet from him stood The Shadow. The mouth of an automatic yawned straight for Bryland's eyes. Frozen, the crook was totally helpless. In his turn, he had drawn his gun from Martha. He could no longer hold the girl's life as a counterthreat against The Shadow.

Martha saw The Shadow; his cloaked figure, his weird laugh made her shudder. The eyes that blazed from above the gun muzzle changed her emotion; gave her sudden confidence. To Martha, those were the eyes of an avenger; foreboding doom to the traitor, Frederick Bryland.

The Shadow had heard all. He was here as a rescuer. Bryland was TheShadow's prize. Martha could pave the way for The Shadow's departure with the prisoner. Thinking of that, the girl looked toward the hallway door. She was ready to go there; to draw Parcher away, so that The Shadow's exit would be unwitnessed.

As her eyes saw the hallway curtain, Martha gave a spontaneous cry. A revolver was gleaming from those hangings, pointing inward, toward The Shadow.

As Martha saw the aiming gun, the curtains parted. On the threshold stood a newcomer to this scene where death threatened.

The arrival was a woman in black, whose eyes displayed a vengeful gleam that outmatched Bryland's glare.

Nina Valencita had correctly guessed where she would find Bryland. She had gained her turn to settle scores with The Shadow.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE NIGHT FLIGHT.

MARTHA'S cry was timely. The Shadow had not suspected the catlike entry of Nina. He received the warning at the moment when he needed it; and his immediate move showed his strength in an emergency.

Had The Shadow copied Bryland's recent action - that of turning to meet a new menace - he would have been lost. Bryland had not yet dropped his gun. The ex-major could have covered The Shadow in an instant.

The Shadow did not give Bryland the opportunity; nor did he remain where Nina could find him with a bullet. It was too far back to his own curtains; but there was a nearer vantage point. The Shadow gained it, with an instantaneous shift.

Swinging forward, sidewise, he wheeled beyond Bryland, gauging the exact line between the major and the door. The Shadow seemed to pivot on his gun muzzle. Not for an instant did it lose its coverage of Bryland.

Nina, with all her venomous determination, was outwitted by The Shadow's quick swing. She never had a chance to fire. In fact, The Shadow's great risk had come when he slipped past the muzzle of Bryland's gun. Bryland might have clipped him in that moment; but Bryland, too, was outguessed.

The Shadow's shift had completely turned the tables. He still held Bryland covered. Close at hand, the crook was a shield past whom Nina could not fire.

The greater s.p.a.ce between Bryland and Nina made it possible for The Shadow to find a chance for angled aim toward the door where the senorita stood.

Bryland, caught in the middle, was helpless.

It was Martha who raised a sudden complication. Inspired with bravery, the blonde sprang to action on her own. She had started toward Nina; she saw the brunette glare and drop back toward the hallway curtain. Not noticing The Shadow's move, Martha thought that Nina intended to fire.

Hoping to block the death shot, Martha made a long, hard leap for the wavering curtain. She wanted to grapple with Nina - tear the gun from the woman's grasp. That failing, the girl was willing to take the bullet that was intended for The Shadow.

Nina saw her coming. From the curtain, the black-gowned senorita aimed point-blank for Martha.

ONLY The Shadow could save the girl. The measure that he took was a swiftone. Springing straight toward Bryland, The Shadow bowled the NEC thief to the floor. Landing headlong past the human shield, The Shadow came up with his gun.

He took the one target that he could see - the gleaming gun that projected from the curtain, gripped by the veiled hand of Nina Valencita.

Martha was almost at the gun point. Nina wanted her at close range. In momentarily delaying her shot, the murderous brunette lost the opportunity.

The Shadow's .45 spoke before she could press the revolver trigger. A sizzling slug found its gleaming target.

With a clang, the revolver leaped from the numbed hand of the hidden senorita. Martha saw the gun's bound; as it fell from the curtain, she dived for it. Nina came through from the other side. The two met in a sudden tussle, with the revolver as their prize. Coming to his feet, The Shadow saw Martha s.n.a.t.c.h the weapon.

The Shadow had time to deal with Bryland. He swung about, aiming for the ex-major. Bryland had retained his gun; but instead of pausing to fire, he was diving for the curtain to the living room. He had the gun in his right hand; his telltale message in his left. He wanted to get away with the paper intact.

Bryland tripped as The Shadow fired. The pitch was a lucky one. The crook went clear past the curtain; landed intact upon the floor beyond. He had hooked the curtain with his foot; the rod broke loose as Bryland sprawled.

The Shadow, starting in pursuit, was met by the downflood of the heavy drapes. He dodged back to escape the rod's descent. When he disentangled himself from the folds, he saw Bryland on his feet again. The thief was going through the doorway from the living room to the hall.

Glancing over his shoulder, The Shadow saw Martha with the revolver, starting after Nina. The senorita was hurrying out through the rear hall.

Cutting after Bryland, The Shadow reached the hall just as the crook slammed the front door.

There was commotion from the back of the hall. Nina had suddenly turned, to hurl herself upon Martha. With clawing hands, Nina was trying to rip the revolver from the girl's grasp.

The Shadow fired. His shot was purposely high. It was enough for the Spanish woman. She sprang away through a small back door that led to a rear street. Martha reached the doorway; fired shots into the dark. They were wide; but they a.s.sured the senorita's flight. The Shadow knew that Nina was glad to escape. He was free to pursue Bryland.

THE rumble of Bryland's motor sounded from the porte-cochere. Forgetting the front door, The Shadow cut through the living room; out by the porch, then across the lawn. Bryland had reached the street; a low wall prevented shots at his tires. He was driving for the avenue - the direction that The Shadow wanted.

Reaching the wall, The Shadow vaulted it in time to see Bryland's coupe turn the corner. There was a sedan standing near there; its driver had jumped out, attracted by the sound of gunfire. He was hurrying to the front of his car, to observe Bryland's flight. That sedan was the automobile that The Shadow had ordered from the taxi-driver.

As he neared the car, The Shadow heard the throb of its idling motor. He wasted no time in introductions. He was behind the wheel of the sedan before the driver knew it. Stepping on the gas, The Shadow whisked past the fellow; left him shouting from the curb.

Another chase was on; and it took the direction that The Shadow expected.

Avoiding streets that had traffic lights, Bryland was heading for the highwaybridge across the Potomac. The coupe reached Seventeenth Street, where the Washington Monument loomed from the left. Cutting southeastward, it arrived at the bridge.

Bryland made speed across the Potomac. His car was far swifter than the one The Shadow had acquired. Gaining ground all along, Bryland was well in the lead by Alexandria; but he risked no stop there. The Shadow sighted him going through the town, but could not overtake him.

Past Hunting Creek, Bryland was hurtling along the open highway. The tail-light of the coupe dwindled from The Shadow's view.

Nevertheless, The Shadow kept up the losing chase, willing, if necessary, to hound Bryland clear to Norfolk. With him, Bryland had that all-important message that he could not send without a stop. If he halted anywhere, the crook would be risking too much. If The Shadow could keep within five miles of the coupe, he would have a chance to balk Bryland.

Some miles below Alexandria, The Shadow pa.s.sed the town of Dumfries. Less than two miles farther on, he came to Triangle, where a good road went off to the left. Half a mile farther along the main highway, The Shadow saw a filling station. His gasoline was low; evidently, he had been supposed to supply the fuel for this hired car.

The Shadow saw a double advantage in a stop. He pulled into the filling station.

Dropping his cloak and hat, The Shadow peered from the window while the attendant was filling the tank. His face was again the hawkish countenance of Cranston; his tone was casual and deliberate when he inquired if the service station man had seen any reckless speeder pa.s.s.

The service station man shook his head, puzzled. Only a few cars had pa.s.sed during the last ten minutes. All had been going slow, for this stretch of road was newly repaired, and frequently patrolled. The news struck home to The Shadow.

When he left the filling station, The Shadow turned about and drove back toward Triangle. He came to the road that turned eastward; saw a large sign that he had noted before. Above its pointing arrow, it bore the word: "QUANTICO".

Bryland had changed his destination. Wise enough to guess that The Shadow expected him to head for Norfolk, Bryland had dodged down the Quantico road.

He was heading for the marine base, where he was recognized as a former army officer; and where, moreover, the news of his recent activities could not be known.

THREE miles brought The Shadow to the marine base. He pulled up at the gate; a uniformed marine called for his pa.s.s. Calmly, The Shadow stated that he had none. He announced that he had come to see the commanding officer. He gave his name as Lamont Cranston.

A second marine put in a telephone call to the C.O.; The Shadow waited, expecting to be admitted. He was ready to use Senator Releston as reference, in case of any red tape; but he doubted that he would be long delayed.

In fact, The Shadow's wait proved to be a short one; but it brought an unexpected consequence. The marine came from the telephone and approached the car, as if to pa.s.s its driver through. Hardly had the guard reached The Shadow before tramping feet sounded from the darkness. Into the light by the gate marched a squad of marines headed by a sergeant.

The noncommissioned officer stepped on the running board. The squad of riflemen spread on each side of the sedan. In gruff tone, the sergeantaddressed The Shadow as Mr. Cranston; informed him that he was under arrest.

He ordered The Shadow to drive forward to headquarters, keeping his speed to that of the marching squad.

Two marines boarded the back seat, ready in case the technical prisoner offered trouble. Resistance was impossible. The Shadow's only course was to obey orders. Mechanically, he eased the sedan into low gear and drove it slowly ahead.

It was a long, slow route that the sergeant ordered. Ahead, The Shadow could see the lights of headquarters; but he looked elsewhere for a further explanation. He gained it when he observed the lights of the aviation field.

A plane was coming from its hangar. Two men were going aboard it. Though they were too distant to identify, The Shadow knew that one must be a marine officer; the other, Frederick Bryland.

The NEC thief had played his trump card. He had come to the Quantico field, believing that he could arrange a test of the plane in which he had installed his radio mixer. With the distance that Bryland had gained, plus The Shadow's short detour, the crook had found time to work his ruse.

Bryland was free, carrying the secret of where he had hidden the NEC. He had acquired a plane in which he could flee the country; and it was fitted with the necessary device for sending the message to Hugo Creelon.

To top his game, Bryland had left The Shadow a prisoner of the marines - unable to pursue; helpless to return to Washington to deal with Creelon.

Grimly, The Shadow saw the lights of the plane take to the runway, while a roaring motor seemed to whir a parting mockery. That ship was rising to the sky when the sergeant halted The Shadow's car at the commanding officer's quarters.

Bryland's night flight had begun. It could mean the crook's escape; his gain of a million-dollar prize. Those results, however, seemed trivial. The fate of the NEC was the real matter at stake.

Soon, even The Shadow might find it impossible to regain the priceless National Emergency Code.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE NEEDED CLUE.

THE marines were courteous enough when The Shadow stepped from his car.

He had pulled the sedan from the roadway; the sergeant made no objection when he pocketed the key. Nor was there any comment when The Shadow carried his folded cloak across his arm.

The slouch hat was within those folds. The cloak looked like attire that belonged with The Shadow's evening clothes. The marine sergeant made no attempt to frisk The Shadow. The calm-faced prisoner did not look like a person who packed a brace of automatics in tight-fitted, well-concealed holsters.

In fact, the sergeant was gruffly apologetic when he ushered The Shadow into the commanding officer's quarters. The noncom could not understand why he had been called upon to arrest so peaceable a visitor.

The Shadow was conducted into a plainly furnished room where a portly officer was seated at the table. The commandant wore the silver oak leaves of a lieutenant colonel; and his name was Blake, as The Shadow saw by the plate on the door. The C.O. arose to eye the prisoner; noting The Shadow's attire and peaceable appearance, he dismissed the sergeant and others of the squad. That left The Shadow alone with Blake and a corporal who was evidently the colonel's orderly. The corporal carried a ready service revolver in a visible holster.

"I presume that you would like an explanation, Mr. Cranston," began the commanding officer, briskly. "Therefore, I shall give one. It is not customary for us to detain civilians here at Quantico. Unfortunately, we are forced to do so in your case. Mr. Bryland brought us instructions to that effect."

The Shadow was about to speak, when Blake resumed: "Bryland's tests are important. Too important for you to interfere with them. Technically, his radio mixer has become government property. He cannot be annoyed by wealthy civilians who are anxious to purchase it."

The Shadow saw the subtlety of Bryland's method. For the moment, his best course seemed to be the undermining of Bryland's status. If he could convince the C.O. of the ex-major's treachery, freedom would follow.

"I saw Bryland take off on a night flight," remarked The Shadow, deliberately. "Have you any objection to stating his destination?"

"Not at all." The C.O. smiled. "Bryland has no set destination.

Lieutenant Collings, the pilot of the test plane, is entirely under Bryland's orders. If you care to listen, Mr. Cranston, you can hear Bryland's broadcasts. Turn on the receiving set, corporal."

THE orderly went to a radio cabinet that stood on a corner table. He adjusted a special dial that began to revolve in jerky, eccentric fashion. The Shadow knew that it was set to pause at given intervals.

From jumbled words, this receiver would extract coherent sentences spoken by Bryland. The same thing could be accomplished, less effectively, by properly timed manipulation of an ordinary radio set; but that would do only for short messages. It was the method, however, by which Hugo Creelon was to receive information regarding the whereabouts of the NEC.

Bryland had simply taken over the task that he had delegated to Martha.

Direct from the test plane, the crook was prepared to broadcast the news that the spy wanted; and only Creelon would understand it.

Static whined from the radio set. From it came Bryland's voice, announcing a call signal. There was no time to lose. Though tense, The Shadow retained his deliberate tone as he spoke to Colonel Blake.

"May I suggest," he asked, "that you call Senator Ross Releston and tell him that you have detained me here?"

"It would do no good," returned the C.O., abruptly. "There is only one man, Mr. Cranston, who can order your release. He will not be here until the morning."

"Who is the man?"

"The officer who issued the order for your arrest. Commander Ronaldson, of the navy department."

The statement explained why The Shadow's detention had been such a prompt one. Yet, when he remembered Bryland's interview with Ronaldson, The Shadow could not recall any mention of such an order. In fact, Ronaldson had been quite casual with Bryland.

It struck The Shadow instantly that Bryland could never have gained so important an order from the commander. The thing smacked of crookery on Bryland's part. Calmly, The Shadow inquired: "May I see the order, colonel?"

Blake nodded, keeping his head inclined to listen for Bryland's broadcast.

From his desk, he lifted a typewritten sheet of paper and handed it to The Shadow. The message consisted of jumbled words. Colonel Blake remarked, unnecessarily, that it was written in a navy instruction code.

"The order is not signed by Commander Ronaldson," objected The Shadow.