in the light from the living room.
The place was a mass of wreckage. The desk was completely collapsed. The table and the chairs were
broken. The light above the table, shade as well as incandescent, was shattered. Only the telephone
rested on the floor; the envelope that had come from the desk lay near the door.
The withdrawal of that envelope had caused a weird, silent explosion. A filmy haze of smoke was settling
to the floor of the room. As it cleared away, The Shadow entered, and his flashlight ran about the room.
It rested upon a broken metal object that lay on the floor.
The Shadow laughed. That article was a photo-electric cell. Beside it was a fragment of flat glass. It did
not come from the window, although the panes had broken there, adding to the tinkling which The
Shadow had heard. This bit of glass had come from the desk itself.
The Shadow knew the answer. That desk had been a death device. Loaded with a chemical bomb, it
had awaited the unwary action which would spring the detonator.
That had depended upon the photoelectric cell, set in the top of the desk. Covered with a layer of glass,
the envelope resting above it, a shaft of light had alone been needed to make the cell respond.
The hanging light — the tempting envelope. To remove the envelope meant that the light would strike the
cell planted in the desk. The Shadow had sensed the danger. He had gone to a place of safety before
letting the death trap operate.
The book upon the envelope had enabled him to withdraw the latter with impunity; to learn what he had
so cunningly suspected — that the envelope was there to bring death to whoever might take it away.
THIS was no plot of an ordinary gang leader. The intended death of Alfred Sartain had shown the
working of a scientific brain; this discharged trap brought more intensive proof of the same fact.
The photo-electric cell was in itself ingenious. The use of a new and remarkable explosive showed still
greater craft. Silent death — by a sighing, puffing combustible had awaited The Shadow here to-night.
The instructions which Cliff Marsland had heard Slips Harbeck repeat had been carefully arranged. Their
subtle point was the mention of documents. That envelope had rested as a sure temptation that would
lead any ordinary investigator to his doom.
The Shadow had divined the danger. He had opened the envelope to find it messageless. He had
avoided the menace; he had let the almost noiseless explosive wreak its damage upon furnishings alone.
Professor Urlich's snare had failed. The Shadow, the master who had spoiled the scientist's scheme of
death for Alfred Sartain, had himself avoided the subtle doom set here tonight.
It had been defensive action. Nothing concerning the enemy's identity had been revealed. But it placed
The Shadow one step nearer his goal — a meeting with the perpetrator of crime whose hand The Shadow
had previously discovered.
A few minutes later, the apartment in Langley Court was empty. The secret visitor had departed. The
Shadow had met the challenge of silent death!
CHAPTER IX. THE NEXT MOVE
THE next day found Professor Folcroft Urlich seated at a little desk in the small office above his
laboratory. The cunning-faced scientist was reading a newspaper.
Larry Ricordo, sullen in demeanor, was standing by the window, looking out toward the old deserted
mansion that obscured all view of the round-shaped building in which the two men were located.
'Well,' remarked Urlich, 'it appears that something caused our trap to fail. This report speaks of the
damage wreaked by a mystery explosion in Barnsworth's apartment. It tells of no casualties, however.'
'The Shadow is too smart, professor,' growled Ricordo. 'It's a sure bet he went into that place. Maybe
the works blew before he got there.'
'Impossible,' responded Urlich. 'If you followed instructions as I gave them, Ricordo, there could have
been no premature results. You are right when you attribute cleverness to The Shadow. Something must
have made him suspect that envelope.'
'I fixed the place the way you told me,' asserted Ricordo. 'The Shadow is a fox — that's all. I don't see
how we can get him unless we gang him. That isn't such a hot idea, either. Others have flopped when
they tried it.'
Professor Urlich chortled. He turned again to the newspaper report, and finally laid the sheet aside.
'At least my explosion showed the power that I anticipated,' he said. 'It was the noise of the glass from
the breaking window that attracted people to the spot shortly after the event occurred. The police, as
usual, are baffled. They probably did not see any significance in the fragments which were left from the
photo-electric cell.'
'That was a great idea, professor,' admitted Ricordo. 'I was sold on it when you gave me the
demonstration in the laboratory. I figured that if anything could get The Shadow, that would be it. But the
thing flivved, just the same. Where do we stand now?'
'Exactly where we were before,' responded Urlich, 'but with more to our credit. We have proved my
theory of how The Shadow learned of the plot on Alfred Sartain's life. We have learned conclusively that
Slips Harbeck is being watched.'
'Yes,' blurted Ricordo suddenly, 'and I figure I know the guy that was watching him. I called Slips this
morning, professor.'
'Ah!', exclaimed Urlich. 'What did he have to say?'
'He told me that a gazebo named Cliff Marsland was sticking near the room where he was listening on
the phone.'
'Who is Cliff Marsland?'
'A tough baby who works pretty much on his own. Did a stretch up in the Big House — Sing Sing, you
know — and since then he's been playing a pretty smooth game. I've met the guy; always wondered why
he was flush with plenty of dough. I've got the answer now.'
'You think he may be The Shadow?'
'No. He couldn't be. The Shadow was operating while Marsland was still in stir. But I figure he's
working for The Shadow. If we have to give The Shadow the works in a big fight, we'll look out for Cliff
Marsland, too. It might be a good plan to bump off Marsland now.'
'Again you are wrong,' interjected Urlich. 'This discovery merely puts us on a better footing. The
Shadow is watching Slips Harbeck, our agent. Very well; we, too, can watch Cliff Marsland. The
Shadow hopes that through Slips he may reach us. We can plan to reach The Shadow through
Marsland.'
'That sounds good, professor. But you've got me buffaloed. What's the next move?'
'To again snare The Shadow. Consider this, Ricordo. The Shadow may believe that we were ignorant of
the fact that Wesley Barnsworth was not in New York. He may think that he discovered the trap that
was set for Barnsworth. Obviously, The Shadow departed after the explosion. He knew that Slips
Harbeck and his men would not approach while the police were there. Therefore, I intend to repeat my
experiment.'
'You mean with the same kind of a trap?'
'No. A different one. I would not use the same plan twice. There will be work for you again, Ricordo;
but it will be more simple. Since I observed Alfred Sartain in his studio, I have been perfecting a new
device. I shall show it to you and explain its purpose later.'
'But if you miss out again — '
