statement, word for word; and described the detailed list that she had copied, to the exact number of jewels mentioned.
She told of the pass-key that Cardona had received along with the statement and the list. She added details of the discussion concerning a probable hiding place behind Henshew's bookcase.
Her final sentences concerned the plans for tonight.
'Henshew will arrive at nine,' declared the girl. 'I am to be there with Mr. Chanbury. The police will be waiting in the alcoves, looking through the side portraits.'
'How large are the spaces?'
'Large enough to hold three persons each, so Mr. Chanbury says.'
'You have never seen them?'
'No. They were permanently closed; but the servants are fitting hinges on them this afternoon.'
'When will the detectives arrive?'
'Before eight o'clock. With Inspector Cardona in charge. They will stay in the portrait room.'
Allard had a few more questions. When he had finished, he smiled. Glancing at his watch, he remarked to Clyde:
'Miss Merwood has been here twelve minutes. Perhaps she should be leaving for Long Island.'
TWELVE minutes! In that time, Eleanor had related details that should ordinarily have taken half an hour.
Clyde was half dazed as he rode down in the elevator to see Eleanor off in Moe's cab. He remembered one important detail, and stopped in the lobby to mention it.
'You may meet someone tonight,' said Clyde, in an undertone, 'who will help matters a great deal. I can't tell you any more, except that he is a remarkable person -'
'More remarkable than Mr. Allard?'
'Yes.' Clyde spoke without hesitation. 'That may be a tall order, but it's so. He's called The Shadow, and I have an idea that he is in this case. Whatever he says, do it.'
Eleanor smiled. She could not doubt that she would follow any orders that came from a person so unusual as Kent Allard. What she did doubt was that she could possibly meet any one else so remarkable.
Her disbelief ended five minutes after she was in Moe's cab.
A voice spoke from the darkness beside her. Eleanor turned to meet the gaze of piercing eyes. They burned, those eyes, like living coals; but Eleanor felt no fear. She heard the sibilant whisper of a voice that carried weird authority. The final words held conclusive importance:
'Be ready at half past seven! Signal at the side door when the way to the portrait room is clear!'
What was the identity of this stranger, who - as Clyde had said - was more remarkable than Allard?
Allard's eyes, thought Eleanor, were the sort that brought a sense of trust and friendship. But these burning eyes, the only token of an otherwise invisible being, carried even more.
They made her trust the stranger, as she had trusted Allard; but she could sense that those eyes would prove terrible to any person who defied this unseen being.
The ride to Long Island was finished in a breath-taking period, for the cab driver had the speed of a jehu.
As they wheeled into the lights of the portico that covered Chanbury's driveway, Eleanor settled back, glad that the trip was over. She had hardly gathered her breath before she thought of the stranger beside her.
She looked. He was gone!
COMPLETE darkness shrouded that Long Island mansion, during the next hour. Cloaked by the blackness, The Shadow moved about the outside walls. His tiny flashlight showed him the extensions that had once been the alcoves of Chanbury's low-set portrait room.
He moved from one side of the house to the other, past a sloping roof at the back. His inspection completed, The Shadow reached the side door.
He was there at half past seven. Five minutes passed before Eleanor stopped in the inner hallway, to indicate that the way was clear. The Shadow entered; thanks to the swift silence of his glide, he was at the marble stairs before one of Chanbury's servants came along. The hired help was keeping close vigil inside the house, until the detectives arrived.
Eleanor was in the portrait room. She had gone there because she could not linger in the hallway. The girl was about to leave, when she saw the door move inward. Fascinated, she watched a streak of blackness form a silhouette along the floor.
A moment later, a cloaked figure had entered. For the first time, Eleanor saw the full outline of The Shadow. The slouch hat hid his face; but the darkness that it cast was like a background for the burning eyes that Eleanor had viewed before.
The Shadow approached. His lips spoke in their steady whisper. The words that Eleanor heard held her breathless. The Shadow had expected to find her in this room, he had reserved final statements until this meeting. What Eleanor heard left her in total amazement. Only the touch of cold steel in her hand awakened her.
The Shadow had given Eleanor a loaded automatic of small caliber. His words told that the gun would be needed.
'You have heard -'
Eleanor nodded at that final statement. Firmly, the girl said:
'I understand. I believe you. I shall be ready.'
Leaving the portrait room, Eleanor put the gun in a pocket of her dress. She did not return to that lower room until eight o'clock, when Cardona arrived with the headquarters men. Eleanor was a bit qualmish, for the servants had been on constant duty. No one could have left the portrait room.
Yet the room was empty; so were the side alcoves when Cardona and his men inspected them. The Shadow was gone. Where he had gone and how, Eleanor could not imagine. She knew, though, that The Shadow would return after Henshew and Shark had both arrived.
The scene was set for trapping men of crime.
CHAPTER XXII. THE TRAP SPRINGS
NINE o'clock found Chanbury and Eleanor in the portrait room, seated placidly among the painted faces that stared from every wall. A servant arrived to announce Henshew. Chanbury took advantage of the last minute to reassure Eleanor.
'Remember,' he said, in a tone of highest compliment, 'I am relying on your bravery to help snare Henshew. I shall keep you here as long as possible to make the fellow show his hand.
'If it proves impossible, you can leave. In that case, go directly to the second floor, where all the servants are. They will look out for you, Eleanor.'
The girl was busy at the typewriter when Henshew arrived. The machine was a noiseless one but the jewel broker noticed Eleanor. For a moment, he appeared annoyed; then his expression became a smiling one.
Henshew liked the set-up. Only one servant was on duty, a sleepy fellow who had come from the second floor to answer the doorbell. With Eleanor present, it seemed certain that Chanbury could expect no trouble.
'Too bad about Tyrune,' expressed Henshew. 'The chap looked bad when I saw him last night. He stopped at my apartment, you know, right after Meglo attempted his robbery.'
'Tell me about the attack,' suggested Chanbury. 'Didn't you lose anything of value?'
'A few items.' Henshew's tone had a significance that Chanbury could take any way he liked. 'Nothing, though, that I felt necessary to mention to the police.'
'Then the jewels -'
Henshew gave a warning shrug; looked toward Eleanor, who was still busy at the typewriter. Chanbury smiled and nodded.
'I forgot,' remarked Chanbury. 'You told me that you keep all valuable gems at your office.'
'Yes.' Henshew reached into his pocket. 'I brought along a few special items that may interest you.'
THE jewels that Henshew displayed upon the desk were new ones; a topaz setting that he pronounced as something of rare value, some amethysts that were fine specimens, but not uncommon.
Examining the gems, Chanbury guessed that Henshew was stalling for time. He tested the jeweler.
'I have never seen these before,' said Chanbury.
'Quite naturally,' returned Henshew, smoothly. 'You have never been to my office to inspect my gems. I do
