going over the instrument carefully. Suddenly it went out.
The keen ears of The Shadow had detected a sound in the outer office, despite the fact that the secret
investigator had partly closed the inner door behind him. With no sound other than a swish, The Shadow
reached the outer office and lingered there.
Some one was working on the outer door. A man was trying to remove the glass panel, which was held
in place only by a molding. The Shadow waited. He could not see through the frosted glass. His natural
assumption was that Slips Harbeck was attempting this mode of entry.
The work went on. The panel began to waver as the worker pried one side loose. Then, apparently
fearing that he would break the glass, the man started anew upon the molding. At last, the glass came
free. It was set upon the floor; a hand came through the door, and turned the inner knob.
WHEN the door opened, The Shadow was drawing back into the darkness. In a far corner of the room,
his tall figure waited, invisible. The man at the door was replacing the glass panel. This was short work.
Finishing, he strode across the office.
Had he turned on the light, he probably would not have seen The Shadow, for the strange being who had
come there before him was in a position of total obscurity. But the entrant's objective was the inner
office. Reaching it, he half closed the door behind him, and turned on a light.
It was then that The Shadow moved, advancing to a spot where he could view the scene within, and still
stay in the cover of the darkness formed by the outer room. Through the opening by the door, burning
eyes spied the man who had entered.
It was not Slips Harbeck. Detective Cardona was at Gardner Joyce's desk!
The sleuth was going over the same ground that The Shadow had covered, searching every drawer in
hope of discovering the contract. Failing, Cardona stood thoughtfully beside the desk.
He was wondering whether or not some one had come here in Slips Harbeck's place; but as he reviewed
events, he was satisfied that no one could have come.
It had been a considerable trek from Red Mike's to the Sharon Building. But Joe was sure that he had
made the journey in less time than Slips Harbeck could have accomplished it. The absence of the
contract pleased the sleuth. It reminded him of the signal that would bring Slips Harbeck's chief rushing to
this spot.
Cardona reached for the telephone. His intention was to call headquarters and summon other men to be
on hand.
He stopped before he grasped the instrument. That course would be inadvisable. Suppose that the call
should happen to be made while he was phoning? The busy signal might scare off the man who was
communicating with this office.
No; the call to headquarters could wait. Mumbling half aloud, Joe repeated the reply that he intended to
give to the unknown caller:
'Nothing doing.'
The detective smiled. That would bring the big shot. The door was unlocked; ready for his arrival. He
would enter to find Joe Cardona instead of Slips Harbeck. Arrest would result; the impending chain of
crime would be ended. Credit to Joe Cardona; commendation from Commissioner Ralph Weston. The
situation seemed certain as the detective considered it, standing in the silent office.
MINUTES drifted by, and Cardona began to feel uneasy. He had a sensation that eyes were watching
him. He turned and peered through the door into the outer office. He saw nothing but blackness.
Swiftly, the detective stepped to the door. His flashlight was in his left hand, his revolver in his right. He
turned on the glimmer, pushed open the door, and let the rays sweep the walls. He saw no sign of a
hidden watcher. Long, shadowy blotches appeared as the light circled. They revealed no person.
Cardona laughed and returned to the lighted inner office. Once more he closed the door only partially, so
he could listen as he waited. Sure that no one lurked in the other room, the detective gained new
confidence. He had seen no more than shadows. But sometimes shadows lived!
Joe Cardona was a man of hunches; to-night, he was on ground where hunches failed. He had imagined
a menace in the other office, and only safety here. In both instances, Cardona was wrong. The hidden
being whom Cardona's fleeting light had failed to uncover was not there to thwart the law. The Shadow's
only enemies were those who sponsored crime.
Why did The Shadow wait? Had he planned the same course that Cardona was taking; and did he know
the detective's thoughts? Did he still expect Slips Harbeck to arrive? What was going on within that mind
that dwelt in darkness?
Only The Shadow knew!
At last came the signal that Joe Cardona awaited. The bell box of the telephone, stationed beside the
wall, gave forth the expected ring. Joe Cardona reached out and gripped the telephone. He repeated the
words that he would utter:
'Nothing doing.'
The telephone rang again. Cardona lifted the receiver. As he held it to his ear, he nonchalantly seated
himself upon the desk. The action turned Cardona's back to the door.
It was then that motion occurred in the darkness. The door opened a trifle farther. A projecting mass of
black moved slowly into the inner office.
Joe Cardona was listening for a voice over the wire. Then it occurred to him that he must respond first.
He spoke in a low, cautious tone.
'Hello… Hello…'
There was no answer. A look of chagrin came on Cardona's face. As he clutched the telephone in his
right hand and held the receiver in his left, he realized that his own stupidity might have caused the man to
hang up at the other end.
So keyed had the sleuth been to give the certain message, that he had overlooked this minor detail. Now,
with the receiver pressed closely to his ear, he still hoped that the connection had not been broken.
'Hello… Hello…'
As Cardona spoke again, The Shadow was approaching. Fully revealed, a tall, amazing phantom
cloaked in black, this being had neared Cardona.
He stood directly in back of Cardona now, so close that he might have been the detective's own
shadow! Yet Cardona, intent upon the telephone, did not sense the presence of the sepulchral being who
had advanced behind him.
THE SHADOW'S hands were moving. They hovered above Cardona's shoulders. Sinister fingers nearly
touched the detective's arms. Had The Shadow changed his purpose? Did he intend to overpower the
detective and to receive the call himself?
'Hello… Hello…'
Cardona again spoke futile words. Impatience flickered on the detective's countenance. He raised his
right thumb and pressed the hook to jiggle it, and possibly restore the connection. Down went the hook;
the thumb released it.
At that instant, The Shadow struck. His hand came forward with a swift blow. It landed squarely upon
Cardona's left arm, and knocked the detective's hand forward with the receiver at the very moment when
the sleuth released the hook with his right thumb.
