acclamation.
'Bless my soul!' he said in Cranston's drawl. 'I must have left my fountain pen in the library. Excuse me.'
He was gone instantly, leaving Dixon and the two visitors staring at each other. He knew that his hasty withdrawal was most welcome to all three. They had been talking in low whispers when he had hurried out to intercept them.
Undoubtedly, they'd need a minute or more to finish whatever they had been talking about.
A minute was all The Shadow needed.
He hurried alone into the library, laid his fountain pen on the table for a blind in case he was followed. With his back to the doorway, he opened the stolen bill fold with a swift gesture.
The sight of its contents made The Shadow smile with stony satisfaction.
There was a check in the side pocket of the bill fold. It was drawn to
'Cash.' And it was signed by Arnold Dixon.
The check was for one thousand dollars.
CHAPTER IV
FORCES OF EVIL
THE SHADOW'S glance at the check was but a momentary dart of his keen eyes. It sufficed, however, to crowd his brain with definite answers to some of
the things that had puzzled him. The fact that a check of so large an amount could be drawn to cash and honored at a bank, indicated that the bank officials
were familiar with such a procedure. This was obviously not the first check paid
by Dixon to his two ugly visitors.
Blackmail! There could be no other deduction.
The Shadow formulated a plan at once.
He left the library, walked quietly back through the corridor to the main entry. He dropped the wallet close to the wall as he passed the console table.
A search later would easily find it. Snaper and Hooley were still conversing in
whispers with the millionaire.
'Find your fountain pen, pal?' Snaper asked.
Hooley didn't say anything, but his whole manner was unmistakably hostile.
The Shadow excused himself, promised vaguely to come beck at some later date to view Dixon's rare collection.
He walked slowly down the curving path that led from the mansion toward the distant entrance of the grounds. The moment he had rounded the first turn and was sure that the shaggy bushes concealed him from view of the house, his dawdling manner changed to one of purposeful speed. He darted from the path, began to hurry swiftly through the darkness.
He remembered the exact spot where he had left his car. He ran diagonally toward the stone wall that divided the thick shrubbery from the road outside.
In an instant, he was over the wall.
He found the green glade where his car was concealed and entered the powerful little coupe. A moment or two later, he emerged again. But not as Lamont Cranston. The figure that crossed the road swiftly and ran toward the stone wall would have sent superstitious shivers up and down the spines of Hooley and Snaper.
Inky-black from head to foot, hands encased in black gloves, a slouch hat drawn low over deep-set eyes that burned like steady reddish flame, The Shadow reclimbed the wall and dropped noiselessly to the dark turf inside.
The Shadow moved with the swift silence of an Indian. Suddenly he halted.
Ahead of him he could see the bent back of a man.
The man was crouched behind a dark bush, peering intently through the spread leaves that gave him a good view of the curving path that led toward Arnold Dixon's door The watchful face turned slightly and The Shadow caught a revealing glimpse of a tense profile.
It was Bruce Dixon!
THE SHADOW didn't delay. He made a cunning detour and passed the silent watcher without betraying his presence. He hadn't returned to spy on Bruce.
That would come later. The two blackmailers were the men who now interested The
Shadow.
His circling approach brought him almost to the front door of the mansion.
Flat on the damp grass behind a spreading bush, he waited.
Feet came pounding down the gravel path from the gate where the two blackmailers had parked their car. It was Hooley and Snaper and they were cursing with rage. They ran straight for the front door, which had closed behind them only a few moments before. They began to ring the bell and pound on
the oaken panel with angry fists.
The Shadow smiled. He had expected this little drama! The crooks had discovered that the wallet and the thousand-dollar check was missing. A show-down with Arnold Dixon was in the making.
Dixon himself opened the door. He quailed as Hooley shook a vicious fist under his nose.
'Gentlemen, what - what in the world is wrong?'
'You know damned well what's wrong!' Snaper rejoined. 'You stole that wallet with the check! We want it back quick - or else!'
'I stole my own check? I don't understand.'
'No? You picked my pocket, wise guy! Where's that check? Hand it over!'
Arnold Dixon recovered his wits. 'Don't be a fool,' he said, harshly.
'Why
should I do that? You've undoubtedly dropped the wallet accidentally in the foyer or in the library corridor. Please, gentlemen, be quiet. Come inside quickly!'
The two thugs shouldered in and the massive door closed. The Shadow rose swiftly, peered back at the grounds. If the lurking Bruce Dixon had heard he disturbance, he gave no sign of his presence.
The Shadow rounded the stone corner of the mansion. He glided toward the wing in which the library was located. He pushed up a gentle inch or two the window which he had unlocked when he was in the room previously. He had barely accomplished his purpose when Arnold Dixon and his two visitors entered the room.
A trailing length of leafy vine hit The Shadow's prying eyes. He saw that Snaper had already found his lost wallet, as The Shadow had intended him to do.
The rogue was waving the leather fold in one hand, the check in the other.
Hooley was the calmer of the two.
He said, grimly: 'Don't try to kid us, mister. You picked Joe's pocket.
Try to double-cross us!'
His face deathly pale, Arnold Dixon denied any idea of theft or treachery.
He pointed out that the wallet had been found lying on the floor under the table, where it had undoubtedly fallen accidentally from Snaper's pocket when he brushed against the edge of the furniture.
Snaper cursed the millionaire with fluent rage. 'How would you like Bert and me to go see some cops - and talk? I mean talk plenty!'
'No, no,' Dixon moaned. 'Not that, gentlemen - don't do that!'
'Then don't try any more foxy tricks like you tried to-night.' Hooley grunted. 'A thousand bucks twice a month is cheap for a guy as wealthy as you.
Especially when he's a guy who could go to jail for -'
THE SHADOW was leaning forward, his ear intent on not missing a single word inside the room. A sound behind him made him spring abruptly away, turning
on his heel with a lithe movement.
The sound he had heard was the snap of a dry twig. The next instant, dark bushes parted and a man came plunging at him. So swift and deadly was the attack that The Shadow's hand was caught midway as he reached for
