was listening to Francine's advice. Perhaps George was settling down to a more sensible existence.
'Maybe you could come up to the house, Mr. Reddingham,' persisted Hurden. 'There'll be some real people there. I've got a lot of influential friends, you know.'
Reddingham hemmed an excuse. The dyspeptic old attorney did not like late hours. Hurden turned to another person present: Louis Caudrey. He asked:
'Can't you drop in this evening?'
Caudrey hesitated; then decided to accept the invitation. When Hurden had departed with the title deed to the purchased mansion, Francine expressed her thanks to Caudrey.
'You ended that fellow's persistence,' said the girl. 'He was determined that someone accept his invitation. I'm sorry, though, that you had to sacrifice yourself on our account.'
'Caudrey won't have to go there,' declared Reddingham. 'He simply chose a tactful way of avoiding an unpleasant argument. I should have used the same procedure myself.'
Caudrey smiled as he reached for a sheet of figures. He was here to make a final balance of the estate's books.
'Don't worry about me,' he said. 'I shall call at the house, because I promised to do so. It will not be difficult to find an excuse for leaving early.'
Francine left Reddingham's office; Caudrey departed soon afterward. On the way out, the plotting actuary indulged in pleased thoughts. His acceptance of Hurden's invitation was part of a neat game.
It gave Caudrey sufficient excuse for a visit to the old mansion. Caudrey felt that he had put one over on Reddingham and Francine.
Francine had been the real test; for she was smart. Much smarter than her brother George, in Caudrey's opinion. That judgment was more accurate than Caudrey realized. Francine had given proof of cleverness that the crooked actuary had not even suspected.
She had shown the faked threat note to George. That weak-kneed chap had caved when he saw it. He had wanted to hide somewhere, and Francine had told him of a place - the little, secluded apartment that The Shadow had chosen.
So anxious was George to get under cover that he had gladly accepted Francine's offer to visit Reddingham's office and handle the sale of the mansion.
That was the sort of cooperation that The Shadow had expected from Francine. The sooner George was out of sight, the better. The less he knew, the more it would help The Shadow.
THERE were servants in the old Melrue mansion, all that day. They were picked men, provided to make sure that nothing went amiss. Like Hurden, they had no inkling of the mansion's secret. When evening arrived, guests appeared and sat down to an elaborate dinner.
Hurden was a good stooge. He had many acquaintances who knew nothing of his underhand ways; and he had managed to produce a prosperous banker and a well-known Wall Street man among his guests.
When Marvin Bradthaw appeared, he did not seem out of place. His presence simply hoisted the estimate that the guests held regarding Hurden.
At nine o'clock, Bradthaw decided to leave. That started the others on their way; but an incident delayed Bradthaw. Strampf arrived and asked to see Mr. Bradthaw. Strampf was carrying a portfolio under his arm.
'More business,' smiled Bradthaw, with a shake of his head. 'It pursues me everywhere. Sometimes I escape it by not telling the office where I am. Very well, Strampf, what is it?'
'Those casualty reports, sir. You wanted them as soon as they were ready for you -'
'I remember.' Bradthaw turned to shake hands with the other guests. Then: 'Very well, Strampf. I can look at the reports when we are in the car.'
Hurden suggested that Bradthaw use the upstairs study for his chat with Strampf. Bradthaw accepted.
Once in the study, he remarked to Strampf:
'We can wait for Caudrey.'
'Good,' expressed Strampf. His tone was eager. 'That gives us time to discuss something that I learned from The Shadow's files. Look at this data, Mr. Bradthaw. All about a black-ray machine that puts electrical apparatus out of commission.'
Bradthaw's eyebrows lifted as he read the typed pages. They included the history of the device, telling how the machine produced a total blot-out, wherever it was projected.
'Crooks used it before,' observed Bradthaw. 'They can use it again. Just the thing for us to turn over to the proper man. Have you found any details of the device?'
Strampf reached over to turn the pages that Bradthaw had. He pointed to carefully written notations on the last sheet.
'The machine exists,' stated the cadaverous man. 'Those notes mention where it is stored. Also that Burbank knows the details of its operation.'
'Acquire it,' ordered Bradthaw. 'See that it reaches Burbank.'
'I have arranged for that.'
'Be careful that the carriers leave no trail.'
'It will pass through half a dozen hands.'
'And watch Burbank. He may try to trick you.'
'Burbank will be handled!'
Strampf's tone was emphatic. It carried the tone that Bradthaw liked. The crime profiteer returned the papers. Before Bradthaw could resume the conversation, Caudrey entered.
'Hurden got rid of the rest of the guests,' informed Caudrey. 'All the fake servants are posted. When do we begin?'
'Right away,' decided Bradthaw. 'You and Strampf can do the work.'
THERE were tools in the study closet, left there at Strampf's order. Strampf and Caudrey began to hack at the wall while Bradthaw watched them. They chipped the plaster beneath the heavy wallpaper.
Chopping with a short pick, Strampf dug deep into wooden laths. He hewed an opening; Caudrey hacked another hole a few minutes later.
Soon the lower portion of the wall was cleared away. While Strampf and Caudrey stood back, Bradthaw flicked a flashlight's glow into the space. The light glimmered upon the metal chest. Caudrey and Strampf hauled it from the hiding place. Each pulled a clamp; Bradthaw raised the cover.
Three crooks stared at emptiness.
The big disappointment was Caudrey's. He had sunk over ninety thousand dollars; all the money he possessed. In return, he had an unsalable mansion. Bitterly, he remembered the Speculation Rider attached to his policy. He recalled Bradthaw's statement:
'If there is nothing you receive nothing and pay nothing.'
Bradthaw also remembered it. He was sorry that Caudrey had lost out on three million dollars, because three hundred thousand would have come to Bradthaw, at premium payment. Three hundred thousand though was small change, compared to the total that the crime-insurance racket would eventually produce.
Smugly Bradthaw expressed regrets to Caudrey. The actuary stood numbed. His droopy eyelids were closed, his hollow cheeks sucked deeper than ever. His lips were muttering wordless sounds.
Bradthaw's lips were hardened in contempt when the situation took a sudden change.
Strampf had crawled into the hole. His lean shoulder poked out again; his cadaverous face looked up. In his harsh fashion, Strampf voiced:
'Somebody rifled that box! They came up through the floor!'
Strampf halted as he caught a glare from Bradthaw. Instantly Caudrey came to life. His eyes popped open; his voice was high-pitched as he wheeled to Bradthaw.
'Then the policy stands!' Caudrey was almost hysterical. 'I can collect my claim! Three million dollars!'
THE burden had transferred to Bradthaw. The crime profiteer was faced by the very problem that had stunned Caudrey. But Bradthaw did not slump. He even repressed the oaths that he wanted to hurl at Strampf. After all, Strampf was paid to get to the bottom of matters. That talent had proved itself a boomerang; but Strampf could not be blamed.
'You shall collect your claim,' Bradthaw told Caudrey. 'Under the circumstances, however, we must insist
