THE suggestion was subtle. Creelon indicated that the emba.s.sy would find difficulty in the removal of the NEC. The Shadow knew that such would not be the case. All had certainly been arranged beforehand; probably Creelon, himself, had been delegated to the task. The National Emergency Code would be lost if it once left The Shadow's control.

At the same time, The Shadow knew that immediate battle could not aid his cause. His position was very much as Creelon had cla.s.sed it. Unless The Shadow could gain a sudden break, the game would end as Creelon said.

That break could come. It was already on its way. Such realization struckThe Shadow. Instantly, he saw his course. It was to parley with Creelon; keep the spy lulled until the time arrived.

That could be done. Creelon would be pleased to hear The Shadow offer terms. Departure without gunfire was the spy's chief wish. He would prefer to have it remain unknown that he had even been to this file room.

"Your life for mine," spoke The Shadow, repeating Creelon's own words.

"That bargain is fair. The rest is not. You demand the National Emergency Code.

In return, you offer nothing but a hopeless quest.

"Those were not the terms that you gave to Bryland. He promised you the NEC. He did not deliver it. I hold the prize you want, before your very eyes.

You can have it, for a price."

For a moment, Creelon's stare showed disbelief; then the spy's lips moved to form a smile. Creelon, crooked to the core, was one of those false philosophers who believed that all honesty would vanish under stress; that every human being could be bought.

"You will sell the code?" queried Creelon, eagerly. "For Bryland's price?"

"For Bryland's price," agreed The Shadow, "but with one other proviso. A condition that will please you."

Creelon waited, tensely. His men were straining their eyes toward The Shadow, intrigued by the cloaked avenger's offer to sell out. Only The Shadow was looking beyond Creelon, toward the door of the file room.

The Shadow expected that door to move. Until it did, he would have to continue his parley. Minutes might be required; but The Shadow was confident that he could hold Creelon's attention.

"WHEN we come to terms," declared The Shadow, "past quarrels can be forgotten. But it is not my policy to ignore those who have sought my life."

"I understand," returned Creelon, bluntly. "I admit my fault. I was unwise."

As Creelon spoke, The Shadow saw the expected happen. The k.n.o.b of the door was turning. The Shadow knew what was due. He played his hand to the full.

"I refer to Bryland," The Shadow told Creelon. "He tried to murder me; not once, but three times. His payment must be canceled."

"Fair enough," laughed Creelon. "Your wish is already accomplished.

Bryland was never to receive his million. The letter I gave him was a forgery, one that the emba.s.sy could repudiate. Bryland, the fool, is on his way to Havana, expecting wealth that he will never gain -"

The door clattered inward, its crash an interruption that made Creelon turn. In the entrance stood Bryland, his face scarlet with fury. In his fist, the crook held his service revolver, aimed for Creelon's heart.

Triple strategy had reached its climax. The Shadow, Creelon, Bryland - all had sprung their game. The Shadow's thrust had been the best.

By subtle tactics, The Shadow had turned men of crime against each other.

He stood ready to profit by the result.

CHAPTER XIX.

DIVIDED BATTLE.

THE SHADOW had done more than count on Bryland's arrival. The lights above the Potomac had told him that the crook would be here; and from the moment thathe encountered Creelon, The Shadow had known something else. He had seen clearly that Creelon did not expect Bryland's return to Washington. Creelon must have left the emba.s.sy quite soon after Bryland had sent his mixed radio, stating the hiding place of the NEC. It had been some minutes later before Bryland had learned what happened at Quantico.

While stalling for time here in the radio room, The Shadow had been considering the consequences that would follow Bryland's appearance. He knew that Bryland would join Creelon as a natural ally; and thereby strengthen the spy's position. Playing a long shot, The Shadow had worked to offset that prospect.

All along, The Shadow had known that Creelon would need but little urge to throw Bryland overboard. The Shadow had supplied the proper provocation, by making a pretense of terms. Stalling for Bryland's arrival, he had lured Creelon into expressing contempt for Bryland, within the ex-major's hearing.

Creelon, himself, had stepped up the game by revealing that he had tricked Bryland from beginning to end. All that came out at the very moment when The Shadow wanted it. Bryland's furious entry was the consequence.

From that instant, The Shadow ignored Hugo Creelon. He knew that the spy's fate was settled. The enemies that concerned The Shadow were Creelon's men.

The Shadow's break had come. They were off guard, wheeling to aid Creelon; a task in which they were sure to be too late.

A revolver barked from the doorway. The gun was Bryland's, dispatching a bullet straight to Creelon's heart. Swept by unreasoning rage, Bryland's first deed was to finish the man who had double-crossed him.

Hard upon Bryland's gunburst came the thunder of The Shadow's automatic, aimed for Creelon's men. One went down as he tried to fire at Bryland. The others swung for The Shadow. A quick bullet clipped the first of the pair. The second man got off a hurried shot that ricocheted from the file cabinet at The Shadow's elbow. A stab from The Shadow's gun dropped the man before he could shoot again.

Above the crumpled body of Creelon, Frederick Bryland heard The Shadow's shots. Viciously, Bryland aimed for The Shadow; jabbed bullets with rare precision. The crook was out to reclaim the NEC; he wanted The Shadow's death.

Bryland's bullets clanged steel. His position was the one that Creelon had originally held. From that angle, The Shadow was invulnerable. He had dropped behind the bulwark of file cabinet J.

Bryland stopped, a pair of unfired cartridges remaining in his revolver.

With a sudden dart, the crook bolted through the doorway, off in new flight.

The Shadow came up from behind the file cabinet. He pulled the drawer open. Upon its stacked files, he dropped the bulky National Emergency Code.

OUT through the offices, The Shadow reached the corridor, hoping to overtake Bryland before the crook reached the stairs. The chase proved a short one. Bryland did not slip The Shadow this time. He was at the top of the stairs when The Shadow saw him. Bryland had halted there, to aim downward.

Footsteps were pounding upward on the stairway. Bryland intended to deal with the arrivals. There was a startled shout from below; a scurry as men dived for cover. Bryland was ready with the trigger when he heard a challenging laugh that had struck his ears before.

Bryland knew that taunt to be The Shadow's. He pivoted, bringing his gun to aim as he came about. His trigger finger loosed its first shot for theoffice door, where Bryland saw the black outline of The Shadow. That effort was too hasty. Bryland's bullet was a full inch wide. It splintered the woodwork of the door frame by The Shadow's shoulder.

Bryland's next slug was due a half second later. It seemed certain of its target, for the crook had completed his quick turnabout. Bryland was speedy with his trigger; but in those tense instants, his attempt seemed slow.

In the scant split-second between Bryland's trigger tugs, The Shadow inserted a blast of his own. His .45 tongued a message for Bryland; one that arrived as the crook fired.

The Shadow's slug was straight for Bryland's shoulder. The crook's gun arm jolted upward as it took the impact. The burst from Bryland's gun was tilted high. His last bullet sped past The Shadow's hat brim.

Perhaps it was a belated hope of flight; possibly Bryland remembered the enemies below. Whatever the cause, the crook spun toward the stairway as he staggered, and flourished his sagging gun downward. The revolver was empty.

Bryland's numbed finger could not have snapped the trigger.

But that was unknown to the men toward whom the weapon pointed. They saw the glare of Bryland's eyes; the smoking muzzle of the gun, threatening further attempts to kill.

Two revolvers spoke from below. Well-aimed bullets withered the spinning crook. Toppling from the power of the fusillade, Bryland spilled toward the stairway. The weight of his outstretched gun hand seemed to carry him in a forward pitch. Headlong, the NEC thief tumbled downward, to sprawl dead at the feet of the marksmen who had finished him.

THE SHADOW headed toward the stairway. He heard excited voices that he recognized. He flattened into darkness against the corridor wall as two men dashed upward past him. One was Vic Marquette; the other, Commander Ronaldson.

Both were explaining matters.

"Miss Leeth told me about Bryland," expressed Vic. "I sent orders to head him off in Norfolk. Later, I received a call from Senator Releston. He told me to come here -"

"On my account," broke in the commander. "Word from Quantico. Bryland gave them an order, in code J 29 X. There was trouble; they called me. Bryland had no right to anything from my file room."

"And you called Senator Releston -"

"Because a prisoner at Quantico had mentioned him as the man who could explain regarding Bryland."

The voices faded. The pair had reached the offices. They were going through, wondering what had become of the person who had fired the first shots at Bryland. The Shadow heard exclamations from the file room. Marquette and the commander had found Creelon's body; also the spy's trio of crippled, groaning men.

A moment later, there was a shout from Marquette. The commander had pointed to the opened file cabinet. There, Vic had spied the bound pages of the NEC, poised upon the extended drawer. In place of the worthless J 29 X, the government men had recovered the priceless code upon which the nation depended.

The NEC had reached the proper hands. DESCENDING the stairway, The Shadow stopped at the lower corridor.

Workers were peering from their doorways, wondering at the cause of commotion. As they gaped, they heard the sudden roar of gunfire in the street. Heads popped from view. Doors slammed shut. The Shadow's route was clear.

Speeding out to the sidewalk, The Shadow saw a scene a block away. Men were tumbling from a halted automobile; others, from a different car, were covering them with Tommy guns and revolvers. Even at that distance, The Shadow could identify the groups.

The captured men were Creelon's reserves. Cruising past the navy building, they had been spotted by Marquette's arriving squad of operatives. The secret service men, equipped for action, had overhauled the last of the crooks and made them prisoners.

Striding through the darkness, The Shadow entered his car between the trees. His cloaked figure blended with the interior of the sedan. He started the car forward; his unseen lips delivered a long, departing laugh.

This time, the mirth carried its note of final triumph. Secret crime had been ended in Washington. Its perpetrators were dead; their game was lost.

Whether or not that strident laugh reached the ears of Vic Marquette, it did not matter. Vic had already guessed to whom the real credit of victory was due.

The National Emergency Code was again the mainstay of the nation's defense. It had been regained through the prowess of The Shadow.

Back to his sanctum would The Shadow go, to ponder over the reports of his many agents - reports that would tell where crime was brewing. Thus would the Master of Crime meet "The Masked Headsman," an international figure with a band of murderous cutthroats at his command. Millions in gems and priceless treasure was his goal - and only The Shadow stood as a barrier to it!

Even the aristocracy of Old Spain would be drawn into it, when "The Masked Headsman" challenged The Shadow!

THE END.