The Shadow was through. Otherwise, he would have come to Fairfax to invadeBryland's mansion, in the darkness of last night. That was the way Bryland summed it. He was unacquainted with The Shadow's complete methods of strategy.

It never occurred to Bryland that The Shadow would find it preferable to let his enemies think him dead. There were reasons, however, why The Shadow had actually chosen to do so.

Most important of The Shadow's objectives was the recovery of the National Emergency Code. The Shadow knew that Bryland would have to inform Creelon where the NEC was hidden. When that news came, The Shadow would be ready to step back to life.

Rolling along at thirty miles an hour, Bryland looked into his mirror and noted an old truck following him. He thought nothing of it. Trucks were often on the road to Washington. But if Bryland had seen the driver of that truck, he might have suspected something.

Leaning over the wheel of the following vehicle was a hawk-faced driver, whose eyes were singularly like The Shadow's. Overalls and cap made him look like some farmer, driving up to Washington; but the driver was The Shadow, in person.

He had gone to Fairfax, but merely to watch the mansion, not to enter it.

When Bryland had appeared, long after daylight, The Shadow had gone to the road, to enter this concealed truck and await the ex-major.

When he reached Washington, Bryland threaded his way to a large government building and parked his car outside an obscure door. Hardly had he entered, before a taxicab pulled up. From it stepped The Shadow. He had left his truck; and the overalls were with it.

The Shadow was wearing the street clothes that had been beneath the overalls. During the short cab ride, he had altered the contour of his face.

Its hawkish look was gone. Bryland would not take that countenance for Cranston's; nor would be suspect that the eyes - purposely listless were The Shadow's.

The building that Bryland entered housed special offices of the navy department. The Shadow followed in through a corridor; saw offices where tired-faced clerks were at work. Bryland was starting up a pair of stairs. The Shadow took them later.

At the top, he saw an office that bore the name of Commander Howard Ronaldson. Bryland had gone in there.

The Shadow entered. He found a petty officer seated at a desk in a large anteroom. Without asking the visitor's name, the navy man simply announced: "Commander Ronaldson is out. He may be back soon; but you will have to wait a while to see him. There is a caller waiting in his office."

The Shadow knew that the caller must be Bryland; so he decided to wait.

He sat down in a corner; eyed the doorway of Ronaldson's inner office.

SOON, the commander returned. He walked directly through to his office.

As he opened the door, he saw Bryland. The Shadow heard his greeting: "h.e.l.lo, major! Nothing new for you. By George! It seems as though every day that I come to my office, I find you waiting here patiently. Sorry, but there has been no report on the radio tests."

Bryland was standing just inside the door of the commander's big private office. The Shadow saw him shrug his shoulders; then inquire: "What makes them delay so much down at Quantico?"

"We're all too busy with routine matters," returned the commander. "We'vebeen plagued by all sorts of complications lately. You know how it is, Bryland; everything that other departments are through with, they ship on me. This is the first week I've been able to take evenings off. They're still doing night work downstairs. Give me about ten days more, major, and I'll send an official order to resume the tests."

"No hurry, commander," smiled Bryland. "I may be taking a trip soon. It can wait until I come back."

"I'm sorry that you made a useless trip here -"

"I was driving to Washington anyway. To see Senator Releston. I simply stopped here on my way."

Bryland left. Ronaldson saw The Shadow. Like the petty officer, the commander made no inquiry as to the visitor's name, although The Shadow was ready with an answer. Instead, Ronaldson merely remarked, courteously but briskly: "I am very busy. I can spare time for important matters. But if your business is of a minor sort, it would be better to see me next week. Provided it can wait."

"It can," replied The Shadow, in a dry tone. "I shall see you later, commander."

As proof that he was busy, Ronaldson went directly to his desk, which The Shadow could see stacked high with papers. Off beyond, The Shadow could see a farther door, half opened. It was marked "File Room" and inside were file cabinets lined so close that there were only narrow pa.s.sages between them.

The tops of the cabinets were stacked with huge heaps of papers. There would be plenty of work in that file room when helpers could be spared from downstairs. The Shadow could excuse Ronaldson's brusqueness.

LEAVING the navy department, The Shadow made no effort to regain Bryland's trail. He was confident that the crook would go to Releston's, as he had said.

The trail could be picked up later, outside of Releston's hotel.

The Shadow was correct in that a.s.sumption. Soon after his departure from Ronaldson's office, Bryland was announced at the senator's. Ushered into the room that the senator used as office, Bryland found Releston and a stocky man awaiting him. The senator introduced Vic Marquette.

"Glad to meet you, Bryland," announced Marquette. "I owe you an apology."

"On account of your search at my home?" chuckled Bryland. "Don't mention it. I rather expected it."

"Just why?"

"Because I supposed that the secret service would be playing every long-shot chance in an effort to find the NEC. I have an apartment here in Washington, as well as my home in Virginia. You are welcome to search the apartment also."

"We searched it last night -"

Bryland laughed as though he enjoyed the news. He was watching Vic, though, to see if the operative suspected that he had been back at the apartment.

Apparently, Vic had not. However, he made other comment.

"We thought we had a trail," he told Bryland. "That's why we made the search. I happened to see you at the Apollo Club last night, major."

"Ah!" exclaimed Bryland. "You witnessed my quarrel with Miss Leeth. But why did that cause you to suspect me?"

"I saw you talking to Nina Valencita."

Bryland winced; started to say something, then shook his head.

"I can't give you the details of that conversation," he told Marquette.

"But I can a.s.sure you that it was entirely a private matter." "I learned that," rejoined Marquette. "I found the senorita's letters at your apartment."

"I hope that you left them there," expressed Bryland, anxiously. "I promised Senorita Valencita that I would return them."

"They are there," a.s.sured Marquette. "They don't come under the jurisdiction of our department."

Bryland smiled sheepishly. Casually, he put his hand in his pocket and brought out the message that Nina had sent him the night before. He showed it to Marquette; then tore it up and tossed the pieces in a wastebasket.

"I expect to see the senorita to-night," he remarked. "There is a ball at one of the emba.s.sies. I have forgotten just which one; and she mentioned that she will be there. I shall return her letters then."

BRYLAND glanced at an appointment book, as if to recall the name of the emba.s.sy. He chatted a while with Releston and Marquette, remarking that he intended to make a trip, but mentioning no destination. Quite satisfied with the way that he had conducted himself, Bryland left the senator's residence.

The crook did not know that he was followed after he went from the Hotel Barlingham. Bryland spent most of the afternoon at the Army and Navy Club; while there, he made a brief telephone call to Martha Leeth.

At the club, Bryland saw a stranger - a stoop-shouldered man whom he took for a retired officer. He did not identify him with the chance caller whom he had noticed in Commander Ronaldson's office. The Shadow had made another change in make-up.

Bryland dined early, alone, at a Washington restaurant. He did not even look in the direction of The Shadow, who was there, once more unrecognizable.

In fact, Bryland had no thoughts concerning The Shadow until after dinner.

Then, Bryland went to his apartment.

The crook felt jittery while he was there, changing to his evening clothes. Not that Bryland held any remorse over the thought of a dead body that might be behind the bookcase wall. Bryland's nervousness was due to the distinct impression that he was being watched. The feeling persisted, despite the fact that he stepped out into the hallway twice, to make sure that he was un.o.bserved.

Bryland finally attributed the impression to his recollection of last night's events. Nevertheless, he refrained from opening the secret wall. He preferred to take it for granted that The Shadow lay dead behind that barrier.

He did not care to make unnecessary moves while in his strained mood.

As soon as he was dressed, Bryland obtained the packet of letters that belonged to Nina and hastily left his apartment.

There was darkness on a hall stairway, not far from Bryland's door. The crook eyed the gloom as he pa.s.sed; then went on his way. It was after Bryland had gone that the darkness stirred. From it emerged the cloaked figure of The Shadow.

He had watched Bryland through those final minutes, to make sure that the NEC thief did not investigate the secret strong-room. Bryland still believed The Shadow dead. The Shadow was therefore ready to pursue his present campaign of strategy.

The Shadow would be near when Frederick Bryland again dealt with Hugo Creelon.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE EMBa.s.sY BALL WHEN Bryland arrived at the emba.s.sy, he was struck by the contrast which it presented, compared to the night before. Then, the ma.s.sive structure had been like a frowning fortress; its few lighted windows scattered and forbidding. To-night, the building was a blaze of brilliance.

Uniformed attendants strutted along the sidewalk beneath a huge canopy, where lights glittered. Large automobiles were drawing up amid strings of taxicabs. Many of Washington's elite would be at to-night's function; for it was the chief event of this particular emba.s.sy.

Bryland was pleased that Congressman Leeth was absent from Washington; hence had not been included on the invitation list. Bryland had been anxious to avoid bringing Martha to the ball - a duty that he would certainly have been called on to perform, had the girl expected to be at the emba.s.sy.

As he pa.s.sed the corner of the big building, Bryland glanced upward. He saw windows that lacked the brilliance of the others; but they were remote and inconspicuous. Another observer would have supposed them to be servant's quarters. Bryland knew that they marked the hidden apartment where Hugo Creeland dwelt as an exofficio guest.

There was a gala throng within the emba.s.sy. Uniforms were plentiful among the guests. So many foreign residents were present that the ident.i.ty of the legation was lost; for its own official family was widely scattered. Too late for the grand march, Bryland took his station among the side of the dance floor and watched the procession, looking for Nina Valencita.

There were many ladies who acknowledged Bryland's smile, for he was well acquainted among the socialites of the capital; but Nina was not among them.

Bryland decided that Nina would be among the later comers; and he idled out into the smoking room as the dancing started.

He knew that if he remained in the ballroom, be would be called upon as a dancing partner. Therefore, he did not return until the dance was almost ended.

He made another departure before the next dance began.

IT was on his second return that Bryland saw Nina. The senorita had just arrived, escorted by a tall Spaniard in evening clothes. Nina was dressed in her habitual black. She and her escort were therefore conspicuous when they stepped to the dance floor. Bryland watched the sable-hued pair as they danced among the more colorful whirl of dancers.

When the music ended, Nina spied Bryland. She spoke to her escort; Bryland saw the man nod. As they came toward him, Bryland joined them. Nina introduced her escort as the Count of Santurnia. (Note: See "The Gray Ghost," The Shadow Magazine, Vol. XVII, No. 5.) Bryland met the gaze of keen eyes that shone from a sharp-featured, olive-hued face. He saw white teeth glitter in a suave, but friendly smile. He was impressed by the grip that he received from the count's darkish, long-fingered hand.

Nina spoke to the count in Spanish. Bryland understood the words. The senorita was reminding the count that she had promised him the first dance only, and she was adding the impression that Bryland was to be her partner for the next.

The count bowed and stepped away. He saw some one across the dance floor and raised a hand in greeting. Again, Bryland saw sharp eyes sparkle. He did not like it. Eyes that glittered reminded him of The Shadow's.

Bryland drew Nina away from the throng; they stopped just beyond the corner of a cloak room, near the grand stairway. Nina spoke quickly, in an undertone.

"Creelon will see you," she informed. "Wait here. Toyne - he is the secretary - will be here to conduct you." Bryland reached in his pocket for the letters. Nina smiled and nodded.

"Buenos," she whispered. "It is good that you have brought them. If any one sees us, you can explain."

"I have already explained," returned Bryland, with a smile, recalling Vic Marquette. "Shall I tell Creelon that you will see him later?"

"Yes. Tell him that I was unfortunately detained. I shall explain later."

"It was because of the count?"

"Yes. I never met him before. He arrived in Washington to-day. Being one of the old regime in Spain, he knew of me and called me by telephone. He spoke of the emba.s.sy ball; I had to allow him to escort me here."

Bryland pondered.

"That's odd," he remarked. "You would think that the count would first have gone to the Spanish legation."

"Evidently he would not be welcomed there," returned Nina. "He belongs to the wrong faction. Forget the matter, major. I must leave you."

Tucking the letters in a pocket of her dress, Nina hurried back toward the ballroom. Bryland fished out a cigarette; began to puff it while he waited for Toyne. He could still recall those glittering eyes that belonged to the Count of Santurnia. With an irritated laugh, Bryland decided to forget them.

BRYLAND would not have made that decision had he seen beyond the corner of the cloak room. There, a tall figure was stooped forward, receiving a silk hat and a folded opera cloak. The personage was the Count of Santurnia. He had come here unnoticed by either Nina or Bryland.

For some reason, the count returned the silk hat to the check room; but he kept the cloak. His eyes showed their strange glitter as they turned away. His lips took on a thin smile that would have meant much to Bryland had he seen it.

That expression would have told Bryland why the count's face haunted him.

Except for its olive dye, a slight change in the make-up of the nose, and the downward curl that had previously marked those lips, the countenance of the Spanish count was that of Lamont Cranston. The hawkish expression seemed to return with the smile. It announced the Count of Santurnia to be The Shadow.

There was a reason why The Shadow relaxed the part that he was playing.

Hurrying past him, The Shadow saw a bespectacled man, who was on his way to join Bryland. The arrival was Toyne, the secretary who had lost his tenacious grapple with The Shadow, the night before.

Music was beginning from the ballroom. No one saw the scene that occurred beyond the cloak room. There, Toyne led Bryland through an obscure door.

The Shadow followed; waited a moment after the door closed, then opened it. He stepped into a pa.s.sage that was lighted; but Bryland and Toyne had pa.s.sed a turn that lay ahead.

The Shadow spread his cloak. Dropping, it transformed itself into an elongated garment; from the loosening folds, he produced his slouch hat. Black gloves were inside the hat, tucked deep beneath the band. It required seconds only for The Shadow to put on these garments. He took up the path that the pair ahead had followed.

The Shadow came to another door. Past it, he saw the pa.s.sage that he had taken to the side door during the last stretch of his faltering escape. There was no emba.s.sy attendant present. The Shadow knew that there would be none until after Bryland had gone.

Ahead were the stairs up to Creelon's hide-out. Bryland and Toyne were farahead. The Shadow took the stairs.

When he reached the door that opened into Creelon's corridor, The Shadow stepped to one side. That door opened in his direction, which was exactly what he wanted.

As he waited, The Shadow could hear the rhythm of the orchestra in the ballroom, far below. Even in this remote spot, one could sense the gayety that pervaded the emba.s.sy. Only The Shadow knew the conspiracy that lurked beneath the sham of international friendliness.