That message, though innocent in itself, would have been a bad one for Marquette to find. It would have proven that Bryland had come back to his apartment; and therefore was not at the theater with Martha Leeth.

Marquette, departing, was so sure that Chandley had mistaken some one for Bryland that he did not question the point further. Thereby, Vic Marquette lost the trail to another mystery; and an important one.

That mystery was the strange disappearance of Frederick Bryland from within the locked confines of his apartment.

CHAPTER XI.

THE SHADOW'S TERMS.

TWENTY minutes after Marquette's departure, a distant clock donged half past eleven. The single clang, floating through chill air, was like a signal.

It brought a response within Bryland's apartment.

Half past eleven was the logical time that Bryland might be found back in his apartment, after an evening at the theater. The sound in Bryland's living room, however, was not that of an unlocking door.

There was a click; but it came from an inner wall. Following it, there was a smooth rumble, a sound that denoted heavy motion, yet which was so m.u.f.fled that it could not have been heard outside the door of the apartment.

There was a repet.i.tion of that barely audible rolling; then the click again. A figure crept through the living room, reached the door and listened there. Crossing the room, the man lowered the window shades; then turned on the corner light.

The glow from the desk revealed Frederick Bryland, his square-jawed face wearing a triumphant smile. The crook found the security box; also the keythat Marquette had used. Bryland knew that his ruse had succeeded.

Satisfied that the secret service men were gone to stay, Bryland picked up the telephone and called Fairfax. He told a servant that he had stopped at his apartment; but would arrive home within the next hour.

From the servant, Bryland heard news of the search that had been made at the mansion. He expressed surprise; snorted angrily and hung up the receiver.

Ready to leave by the apartment door, Bryland reached for the lamp switch.

As he did, he gained a peculiar sensation that he was being watched.

Anxiously, the crook looked everywhere.

The room seemed empty; the lamp flung its glow to every corner except one beside the outer door. With a shrug, Bryland decided that he was imagining something. He reached again for the lamp switch.

As he pulled the switch, Bryland was startled by the result. Timed to the click of his switch there was another, from the main light switch just within the door. Bryland did not hear the other click; hence he was completely amazed by the consequence. As Bryland's lamp went out, the ceiling lights came on.

Wheeling about, Bryland blinked. He was dazzled by the light; he was overwhelmed by sheer desperation at this proof that he was not alone.

Moreover, he was caught completely off guard. Though he instinctively reached for his revolver, Bryland stopped the move before he finished it. He knew that he was trapped.

STANDING at the door was the intruder who had so completely surprised the crook. Bryland's lips lost their smile; hard though they were, those lips trembled as Bryland's sullen, deep-set eyes spied the being who had tricked him.

The invader on the threshold was cloaked in black; his burning eyes focused from beneath the brim of a slouch hat.

All other features were obscured; but below the eyes loomed the muzzle of an automatic, gripped by a blackgloved fist. The Shadow, finding the secret service in charge at Bryland's, had taken time to fully equip himself. That done, he had come here to find Bryland in person.

Bryland's hands came upward. Sullenly, the crook stumbled forward from the desk. His foot hit the metal wastebasket, tipped it to the floor. From the basket rolled the match that Bryland had tossed there when he decided not to light his cigarette.

That sliver of wood, unnoticed by Marquette, had been discovered by The Shadow. Searching with a flashlight, The Shadow had taken the match as evidence of Bryland's earlier entry. The Shadow had waited in darkness, expecting Bryland's reappearance. From the moment that dull sounds had started from the inner wall, The Shadow had been prepared to dumbfound Bryland.

The crook's confusion was twofold. Sight of The Shadow was startling in itself; it was incredible, in view of facts stated by Creelon. The master-spy had sworn that The Shadow was dead; and Creelon would have had no purpose in stating an untruth.

Bryland knew instantly that The Shadow must have eluded Creelon's toils.

Such an escape was proof of amazing prowess. Added to that was Bryland's knowledge that The Shadow had been at Creelon's hide-out in the emba.s.sy.

Bryland was willing to concede that The Shadow knew everything that had happened there.

Trapped by The Shadow, Bryland was in the position of a confessed thief.

The Shadow had the crook marked as the possessor of the NEC. In addition, TheShadow had solved the secret of Bryland's disappearance from the apartment.

Listening, within the apartment itself, the cloaked investigator had certainly guessed Bryland's place of concealment.

It was plain, too, The Shadow knew Bryland to be the would-be murderer who had visited the Hotel Halcyon. The whole situation was a discouraging one for Bryland.

MOST crooks, trapped thus by The Shadow, adopted one of two courses. They either went berserk and hurled themselves at the muzzle of The Shadow's gun, or they whined for mercy. Bryland was too wise to do one or the other. He knew that an attack would force The Shadow to use his automatic. He guessed that The Shadow would not be influenced by a sham plea for pity.

Cool despite his predicament, Bryland adopted measures of his own. He sat down at the desk, reached into his pocket and calmly produced the cigarette that he had foregone a while before. He was deliberate in his moves, to make it plain that he was not going after a gun. The Shadow watched the crook light the cigarette and puff it in complacent fashion.

The Shadow's only comment was a whispered laugh, a tone of low, significant mirth that temporarily jolted Bryland's poise. The crook lost his nonchalance; regained it only after an effort. The Shadow's laugh was a mocking challenge that foreboded ill.

Nevertheless, Bryland decided to talk.

"You're the winner," admitted the ex-major, bluntly. "I went the limit, and I've lost. I staked everything and I knew the possible consequence. So I'm due for whatever is coming to me."

Bryland looked glum for a few minutes; then shrugged his shoulders and added: "I might as well be a sport about it. Not because I think you'll be easy on me. I don't ask that. I'm a crook, a traitor, and all the rest of it. But I've been a gentleman otherwise; and it won't hurt me to be decent once again."

Coming to his feet, Bryland chucked the cigarette into the wastebasket.

He faced The Shadow and spoke in frank tone.

"I'll take my medicine," he concluded. "You know I have the NEC. You've learned enough to guess that I have it hidden here. In fairness, though, it was just by chance that I went crooked. When I saw Darson's cane at Follingsby's, I.

guessed that the colonel was going to revise the NEC. I took the opportunity to steal it.

"I tried to murder you to cover up. When Creelon made his offer, the only way was to take it. Creelon tried to s.n.a.t.c.h the code from me to-night" - Bryland was scowling at the recollection - "and he missed out. It's your turn; and since I'm to lose my prize, I'd rather see you get it than Creelon."

There was an earnestness to Bryland's statement. Shoulders erect, the traitor awaited The Shadow's decision. It came.

"Produce the code," ordained The Shadow. "With it, give me a signed statement of your guilt!"

BRYLAND'S eyes lighted. The Shadow's words, though stern and sinister,gave future promise. As always, The Shadow's terms were unconditional.

Nevertheless, they could mean much to Frederick Bryland.

The return of the NEC, intact, would clear Colonel Follingsby. It would prevent national disaster. Hugo Creelon would be left empty-handed.

Though The Shadow phrased no promise of leniency to Bryland, his demand for a signed confession was significant. Holding the confession, The Shadow could a.s.sure Bryland's future conduct. Further attempts at crime would be impossible for the ex-major.

Bryland understood all that. He recognized that The Shadow was putting him to the test. He could see why The Shadow would give clemency. Bryland, through his inventive ability, would be able to make amends to the government that he had betrayed.

Therefore, Bryland's move was one of acceptance. Without further word, the defeated thief faced about and stepped to the three-section bookcase that stood against the wall. Pressing his fingers beneath a high shelf, Bryland found the hidden spring.

There was a click; Bryland stepped away from the bookcase.

The result was a tribute to Bryland's skill at invention. The whole center section of the bookcase moved forward, bringing the solid wall with it. The upright wall posts were the supports that covered the joint of the sections.

The rumble from the moving bookcase was not caused by the motion of the wall behind it. Bookcase and wall section were mounted on thin supports of wedgelike steel; blades that ran between the cracks of the floor. The rollers, beneath the floor, were noiseless in operation.

The rumble was due to a hidden mechanism that Bryland had started. It was moving the wall section outward, with the consistent smoothness of an elevator mechanism. Bryland had converted the machinery of an electric lift to serve this special purpose.

The bookcase came six feet out from the wall before it stopped. The Shadow drew close to Bryland, motioned him into the s.p.a.ce behind the bookcase.

Bryland stepped ahead, entered a deep niche in the wall that had been his hiding place during Vic Marquette's inspection of the apartment.

This hiding place looked as though it had originally been a large closet that Bryland had ingeniously altered into a secret chamber. It was more than a hiding spot, however; it appeared to be a strong-room also.

At the rear of the deep recess was the bulking door of a heavy safe, almost six feet in height. Bryland had made the deep end of the closet into a vault.

BRYLAND paused; he faced The Shadow's gun muzzle, waiting for further orders. The Shadow pointed toward the safe. Bryland nodded; turned about and fingered the dial. Soon, he had the big door loose.

He drew it open, to show the interior of his vault. The s.p.a.ce was shallow; at the rear were rows of metal drawers that resembled safe-deposit boxes.

Every one of these metal lockers was labeled. Apparently, Bryland had designed them as safety vaults for the plans of his various inventions. That being the case, Bryland already had an excellent place for keeping the stolen NEC.

The Shadow expected Bryland to open one of the steel wall boxes. That was exactly what Bryland did.

The cornered crook turned a dial, swung a small door open. He reached his hand into the s.p.a.ce beyond, where The Shadow saw stacked papers. So far, allwas expected. What followed was a surprise, even for The Shadow. Bryland found a switch beneath the papers. He swung it. The steel rows of boxes underwent an amazing transformation. All those to Bryland's left were dummies. Two rows, from top to bottom, each formed the camouflaged surface of a steel half door.

One section swung inward, to the right; the next came outward, to the left. Shoulder first, Bryland went through the angled opening with a quick, oblique move that showed remarkable speed.

The NEC thief had timed everything to his own favor. His dive was calculated to outwit The Shadow. Bryland never glanced back over his shoulder.

He would have been dismayed if he had done so.

Swift though Bryland's move was, The Shadow was ready for the lightning shift. His gun muzzle was swinging after Bryland before the crook could clear the tricky doors.

In one split-second, The Shadow had his chance to halt the bolting crook, as he had handled others quite as slippery as Bryland. A quick trigger tug was all The Shadow needed; but it did not come with its accustomed precision. The last effects of Creelon's hashish still prevailed. The Shadow's trigger finger made a momentary pause before it pulled.

The doors whipped shut as The Shadow fired. A bullet rammed the steel-faced barrier. Bryland was safe beyond; the doors had locked. Amid the echoes of his quick-timed shot, The Shadow knew that he had acted too late.

THE SHADOW had further chance of error. Had he sought to follow Bryland, he would have been trapped; perhaps doomed. The big steel safe door was swinging shut. Bryland was operating it with a switch beyond the inner wall.

Instantly, The Shadow wheeled away, divining what was to come. As the safe door ponderously closed, the outer wall that held the bookcase came sliding back to place. The Shadow had escaped the cramped s.p.a.ce of the vault. He was about to be trapped in the spot that Bryland had formerly used as a hiding place.

The dive that The Shadow took was an angled one, like Bryland's; but The Shadow's destination was the living room. He reached it, hurling himself into a ball that he knew would bring security. The rumbling barrier was almost upon him as his shoulder hit the living room floor.

Rolling over like an acrobat, The Shadow kicked his legs clear of the slicing wall edge. The tumbling tactics were speedy enough to save him from disaster.

As The Shadow flattened on the floor, he heard the wall bash into position. The rumble of its machinery was ended; but from far below, The Shadow could hear a responding quiver that sounded like an echo. He knew that Bryland was completing his escape in a tiny, hidden elevator.

Frederick Bryland had rejected The Shadow's test. The thief preferred crime, with its offer of fortune, to the honest path that The Shadow would have permitted. Bryland still held the priceless NEC; and it was plain that the stolen code was hidden elsewhere than this double-walled apartment.

Amid the stillness of the living room, The Shadow's hidden lips delivered a sardonic laugh. The game was not yet ended. The Shadow's mirth was his answer to Bryland's new challenge.

CHAPTER XII.

A GENTLEMAN BY DAY.

A GENTLEMAN by day; a crook by night. Such had been the recent career of ex-Major Frederick Bryland. Wisely, Bryland intended to pursue that policy.

His course began the next morning, when he sauntered from the front door of his old Virginia mansion.

Bryland had gone there directly after his escape from The Shadow. He had slept intermittently during the night, disturbed at times by the thought that The Shadow might have escaped from the double trap. Morning, however, had brought Bryland rea.s.surance.

There had been no visit from The Shadow. That seemed sufficient proof that The Shadow had not slipped free from the apartment wall. The Shadow, still in the trap, must have died long ago.

Bryland had not only put all interior switches out of commission; from below, he had released a supply of asphyxiating gas. Some day - years from now, Bryland supposed - the apartment house would be torn down, and in its wall would be found a skeleton draped in the tattered shreds of a black cloak. But Bryland would not be around when that time came.

Driving from the mansion, Bryland looked back over his shoulder. He had always liked that old brick building, with its huge colonial pillars. The walls needed repairs; the pillars could be improved by white paint. Bryland had always wanted to acc.u.mulate sufficient wealth to properly restore the old family home.

Soon he would have the required money, but it would not go for that purpose.

After to-day, Frederick Bryland would be a man without a country; but that did not perturb him. He would be traveling far, living high and handsome, with all the money that he wanted. Best of all, his crimes would remain undiscovered.

What if the government did suspect him of treachery? There would be no tangible proof that he had stolen the NEC. No one would uncover the skeleton in the wall of the apartment soon enough to pin the goods on Bryland.

A trip from Washington; a longer stay than he presumably planned; an offer to become a soldier of fortune in the pay of some South American republic - those would be Bryland's steps after he acquired his million.

Then, some day, he would strike it rich. He might find wealth in the Argentine, or Peru - anywhere, so long as the story was a likely one. The wealth would be his million dollars, brought to open view, amply protected by a sham explanation of how Bryland had acquired it.

THESE thoughts were flooding Bryland's mind as he headed into Washington.

He had dismissed The Shadow from his memory. That was because Bryland, through his observation of The Shadow, was convinced that his cloaked foe always dealt in direct fashion.

Bryland remembered the Hotel Halcyon; Creelon's mention of the house on H Street; finally, the scene at Bryland's own apartment.