upon all provisions in the policy. There is one calling for thirty days' grace in settlement.'
'But with others,' protested Caudrey, 'you paid off without delay!'
'Because the lost spoils could not be regained. That does not apply in this case. Someone still holds the funds that belonged in this coffer. Incidentally, Caudrey, we must find that person - and the funds - to learn the actual amount.'
Bradthaw's impressive tone calmed Caudrey. The actuary was willing to accept the thirty-day decision.
Moreover he was anxious to retain Bradthaw's good favor since future payment hinged on it. Fearing that Bradthaw might think that he had been double-crossed, Caudrey hurriedly assured him that all had been fair.
Caudrey swore that he had spoken to no one regarding the hidden wealth. He had kept the fact from Reddingham; that, in turn, had prevented George Melrue from learning it. In fact, added Caudrey, he had not seen George for days. Only Hurden had seen George; but Hurden knew nothing.
George had been in this house yesterday; but he had not even been in Reddingham's office today.
Hurden had mentioned George's absence; Francine's statement that her brother was ill.
Bradthaw's steely eyes showed a glint.
'The answer is plain,' declared the crime executive. 'Young Melrue was familiar with this house. He guessed its secret. He carved his way up through the floor and took the millions.'
'But he sold the house,' reminded Caudrey.
'He tried to avoid selling it,' analyzed Bradthaw. 'He set an exorbitant price to discourage purchasers.
When Hurden showed willingness to buy at ninety thousand, George could not reject the offer. His urge for money also influenced him to sell.'
'But if he already had the three million, ninety thousand would have been small -'
'He did not have the millions,' interrupted Bradthaw in a final tone. 'George filched the wealth last night.
The cellar was not properly guarded. That is how he managed it. A crude job with traces of its hurried method. Today, George's nerve was gone. He knows that others wanted that wealth.'
Strampf was listening intently to all that Bradthaw said. The insurance man's deductions brought a steady nod from the cadaverous investigator. Even before Bradthaw had finished, Strampf was picking up the telephone to send orders to finger men and thuggish crews. Instructions given, the group in the study waited.
Word came back. George Melrue was not at his hotel. He had checked out that morning. There was no trace of Francine at her apartment. She had packed and left during the afternoon.
Strampf ordered his informants to search for traces of the missing Melrues. Hanging up the telephone receiver Strampf said to Bradthaw:
'They will be found!'
Bradthaw's nod was one of confidence. He could depend upon Strampf to locate that pair of amateur treasure-seekers. It seemed obvious that George had delegated his sister to arrange the house sale; then join him afterward. Wherever they had gone, Strampf would dig them out.
Neither Bradthaw nor Strampf looked beyond the obvious. Clever though they were, they could accept no more than the surface facts. With The Shadow supposedly dead, they had no reason to look for a deep-laid purpose behind the disappearance of the Melrue heirs.
The crime-master and his star mercenary had taken the same bait from The Shadow's hook.
CHAPTER XVII. CRIME'S ULTIMATUM
TWO days had passed. It was night again; the time when The Shadow could ordinarily move on secret missions. Circumstances, however, were no longer usual with The Shadow. His own chosen policy kept him from action. The Shadow was continuing the pretence that he was dead.
Two nights ago, crooks had entered the storage house where The Shadow had placed the black-ray machine. Newspapers had told of a trifling burglary there. The Shadow knew that the equipment was gone; that it would eventually reach Burbank. So far, however, there had been no pickup by the direction-finders.
The answer was that Strampf was too busy searching for the Melrue heirs to bother with the special machine. The delivery of the device had been delayed somewhere along the line, awaiting further orders from Strampf.
There were times when The Shadow regretted his present policy. He had adopted his waiting tactics, confident that such a course would insure the safety of his agents. Thinking The Shadow dead, crooks would fear nothing from the agents; and should therefore keep them prisoners for future use.
But the absence of contact was ominous, even to The Shadow. It could mean that something had happened to the agents.
His choice once made, The Shadow could not alter it. He kept to a hideout, in the basement of a small apartment house. The Melrues occupied an upstairs apartment; while in his present location, The Shadow could protect them in an emergency.
As yet, Strampf's searchers had not even come close.
This evening, a scene occurred that would have pleased The Shadow, had he been there to view it. It happened in Bradthaw's office. For reasons of his own, the insurance magnate had employees working overtime; and was on the job himself.
As before, Bradthaw had two visitors. Strampf was there, with Caudrey.
'I have sent feelers everywhere,' declared Strampf, in his harsh, mechanized tone. 'Not one of my searchers has picked up a trace of the Melrues. I cannot understand how they managed such a complete disappearance!'
Bradthaw stroked his chin. His eyes took on a distant glint. The master-crook could provide answers to questions that puzzled Strampf, whose work was purely that of fitting established facts.
'The Melrues must have made their plans in advance,' decided Bradthaw. 'Their present hiding place was ready for them. Continue with the search, Strampf.'
In a sense, Bradthaw had the right answer. The Melrues were certainly well tucked away, in a place that had awaited them. It did not occur to Bradthaw that The Shadow had picked the hiding spot. Each passing day convinced Bradthaw more and more that The Shadow was dead.
'I can only wait,' declared Strampf. 'Until some of my searchers bring in clues, my own work is halted.'
'That will give you time to complete other matters,' observed Bradthaw. 'For instance, that black-ray machine. Take it to Burbank tonight, Strampf.'
WITH that order, Marvin Bradthaw provided the very break that The Shadow wanted.
Shortly before midnight, the black-ray machine was delivered at the house where The Shadow's agents were still prisoners; and Strampf arrived with the apparatus.
During the past few days, The Shadow's agents had gained no inkling of their whereabouts. They knew only that they were quartered in the basement of an old house, somewhere in Manhattan. Those who had been conscious after capture remembered that the trip had not been a long one, although they had been unable to gauge direction.
The quarters were comfortable, but formidable. The agents spent daytime hours in a little living room, at nights they were bunked in small, barred bedrooms, two to each room.
Any chance for a break was impossible. The prisoners were under the personal supervision of a crook called 'Ace' Gandley, who had a crew of competent trigger men on constant duty.
At night, a squad occupied the living room, while the prisoners slept. Watchful eyes were always on the half-open doors of the bedrooms.
The prisoners had not seen Strampf since he had first interviewed them, hence they scented something important when the cadaverous man made his new visit. Some of the guards lugged in a half-opened crate and Strampf ordered it unpacked.
Burbank and others of the agents recognized the device that Strampf began to assemble. It was The Shadow's portable black-ray machine. Sight of that apparatus made the prisoners morose. For the first time, they began to believe that their chief was actually dead.
The machine was wheeled into Burbank's room. In harsh tone, Strampf ordered the contact man to make it operate. Burbank went into the bedroom.
