Coming up from the back, the embroidered head was artfully arranged to show a yawning mouth with jagged black teeth fronting its golden throat. There were green eyes, of course, but they were atop the hood. The eye-holes, through which the Black Dragon peered, were fangs belonging to the embroidered dragon's mouth. Squatting deep in his gilded throne, the Black Dragon might have been anyone. Since the hood hid his face, it was impossible to discern whether his complexion was the yellow that belonged to Li Huang or the tawny color so conspicuous in Sauber's countenance.

The Dragon's hands were no clue. They were doubled idly on the throne arms and the fingers were encrusted with rings that gave off a jeweled glitter. The Dragon's voice was forced, like the restless undulation of his body, a motion which he continued mechanically in order to preserve the living illusion of the dragon coils that encircled him.

The tilts and turns of the Dragon's head added to the weird effect of a living monster. If the Black Dragon had suddenly gone lashing all about the meeting room, it would have been a logical climax to his serpentine act.

INSTEAD, the Black Dragon contented himself with hissing epithets at the men who had just arrived. From the wounded among them, he knew that they had failed in their recent mission.

"Twice you have failed!" accused the Black Dragon. "Last night you saw the man who carried the death token when Sujan pointed him out. Instead of settling the score, you left members of your own band dying on the scene, Sujan among them!"

The Dragon was speaking in English, but interspersing his terms with j.a.panese words.

"Another opportunity!" The Dragon raised his doubled fists, letting their gems strike the light. As the embroidered coils writhed, from the fangs of the dragon head came the repeated accusation: "Again you failed!"

There was a thud as one of the crippled murder crew sagged to the floor.

The Dragon's head bobbed like a cobra's as his fang-eyes looked at the sprawled follower whose strength had given out. Meanwhile, The Shadow was studying other faces.

A mixed lot, these, but in nearly every visage The Shadow could detect Nipponese traces. Obviously these men had been sent from the Orient to serve the Black Dragon while posing as something other than j.a.panese. Only a few, who looked something like dead Sujan, had faces that gave them completely away.

Now the Black Dragon was proving something by his stare. He was proving that he was not Li Huang. For the Dragon's eyes were fixed upon a cringing member of the throng, beckoning him into the light. As the cowering man advanced, he proved to be Li Huang!

"You, too, have failed!" stormed the Black Dragon. "Years ago, Li Huang, we brought you from Manchukuo to live in Chinatown and be ready when we needed you.

We even provided you with servants" - the Dragon gestured toward the three Mongols who stood behind Li Huang - "in the hope that you could deceive the local Chinese into thinking they could trust you. Last night, you failed when needed!"

"Only because my visitor did not produce the death token," pleaded Li Huang. "However, because of my suspicions, I placed him where Sujan could identify him. Tonight the police phoned me to say that they are holding a suspect named Trask, unquestionably the man I interviewed. He expects me to support his alibi."

"Which you will not do, Li Huang!"

"I have already disclaimed it, master," a.s.sured Li Huang. "But, from nowon, my house cannot serve as a meeting place, the way we originally intended.

Even my membership in this organization may endanger others. Therefore I beseech that you dispense with my future services, since the police may be watching me."

"Your apprehension seems well-founded," decided the Black Dragon. "Your request is granted - with one condition. I shall give you a final task, the delivery of a death token to a person whose name will be stated at the proper time."

Li Huang bowed, greatly relieved. The Black Dragon placed a doubled hand into a pocket formed by a dragon coil. Promptly, The Shadow's hand slid beneath his cloak. Returning ahead of the Dragon's move, The Shadow's fist leveled an automatic past the edge of the concrete pillar, straight for the monstrous creature in the throne.

The Shadow was waiting to see the jeweled fist open wide to reveal a tiny dragon carved of jet. That would be the timely moment for a shot that would bring the Black Dragon sprawling from the throne with one of his own death tokens in his clutch. Such a climax would mark The Shadow as the real master of this show, with due effect upon the superst.i.tious members of the clan.

The wait was costly. It spoiled The Shadow's chance for an immediate triumph. Instead of opening his hand palm upward, the Black Dragon gave a downward fling. Something left his fist and struck the floor. The object wasn't a miniature dragon token.

It was a missile that exploded instantly, with a sharp puff that produced a bursting cloud of smoke that enveloped the throne completely. The white swirl writhed as though the dragon coils had stirred it, and during those brief moments The Shadow kept steady aim, waiting to sight his target.

Then, as the vapor filtered itself away, The Shadow found himself staring at an empty throne. Amid the puff of smoke, the Black Dragon had completely vanished!

CHAPTER VIII.

TRAILS CROSS.

IT wasn't in The Shadow's nature to be startled by sudden disappearances.

The art of vanishing on instant's notice was one of his own specialties; hence he wasn't even surprised to witness the result of the Black Dragon's puff ball.

The Shadow looked for visible effects, as evidenced by the Dragon Clan.

They took it as a matter of course, proving that the vanish was their master's usual routine. One man had pitched forward on the floor, as though overcome by the startling sight, but The Shadow discerned that he was merely another gun-fray victim, succ.u.mbing like a previous companion.

Lifting the collapsed pair, the rest of the dragon men carried them from the meeting room, pa.s.sing right between the concrete pillars. The Shadow remained unnoticed by the simple expedient of stepping to the far side of his pillar, but it was doubtful that he would have been detected.

Blended with the pillar's blackness, The Shadow was indeed invisible.

After the procession pa.s.sed, the s.p.a.ce behind the pillar was vacant. Somehow, The Shadow had followed in the wake, for his gliding form appeared briefly in the outside corridor, then faded from all chance of view.

The Shadow was picking one figure among the departing throng - that of Li Huang. Lacking traces of the Black Dragon, The Shadow was concerned with thetreacherous merchant as the next-best choice. Only if something better should show up, would The Shadow change that course.

Something better did appear, coincident with The Shadow's thought on the subject.

The person in question was Ming Dwan. The Chinese girl should have been back in Li Huang's house, but she wasn't. Hardly had the motley dragon tribe gone down the stairs before Ming Dwan came darting from a side hall. She made directly toward the stairs, then hearing footsteps coming up, turned and hurried in The Shadow's direction.

Ming Dwan wasn't treacherous, as Steve had supposed, unless spying on the Dragon Clan came under that head. But the girl was running into serious difficulty, through having followed Li Huang here. Guards were coming back to close the meeting room. Flashlights gleaming ahead of them, they'd be sure spot Ming Dwan.

Just as the revealing beams stabbed the hallway, Ming Dwan was enveloped in darkness, so swiftly that she couldn't even gasp. Lost in the folds of a sweeping cloak, the girl was whirled into the meeting room itself, since it formed the only outlet close at hand. The girl saw the swirl of blackness that represented The Shadow, but it seem to dissolve under the light of the flashlights.

Still, they were coming toward the meeting room. A clash seemed imminent, considering that The Shadow couldn't keep Ming Dwan obscured in a room well filled with light. Battle would not be wise under present circ.u.mstances, when the first crack of guns would bring back the entire Dragon Clan.

Only The Shadow could have nullified that dilemma, by a surprising course that his foresight could connect with quick results.

SWEEPING Ming Dwan toward the deep end of the meeting room The Shadow halted with a sudden spin. Launching the girl in a similar twirl, he sent her into the lap of the golden throne, where Ming Dwan landed, very surprised, her head jouncing backward and her feet flying in the air.

Less than a second later, The Shadow was in the darkness of a pillar, beating the arrival of the incoming guards. As he looked toward the throne, The Shadow tightened his hidden lips, repressing the laugh of satisfaction that he should have uttered.

The Shadow had called the trick to perfection.

Ming Dwan was no longer in the glided throne. She had vanished as instantly as the Black Dragon!

The guards turned out the lights and closed the meeting room. As soon as they were gone The Shadow approached the throne and examined it with a tiny flashlight that cast a concentrated beam. Focused to silver-dollar proportions, the disk of light revealed a narrow slit in the back of the throne. Pressing

one.

arm, then the other, finally jogging both, The Shadow gained results.

An edge slid downward from the slit. It was a sheet of gla.s.s that formed a long angle to the throne's front. The gla.s.s reflected the flashlight, giving the throne an empty appearance. Since nothing further happened, The Shadow pushed the gla.s.s up into its slit and seated himself in the throne.

When The Shadow jogged the throne arms with his elbows, the gla.s.s came down again. Boxed in the angled compartment, The Shadow delivered a low, reflectivelaugh. He should have fired immediately after the Black Dragon vanished, for

one.

shot would have shattered the gla.s.s, and the next could have drilled the Black Dragon. Crime's vanished ringleader had still been close at hand after his disappearance!

Obviously, the Black Dragon hadn't remained there very long. So to test the next stage of the journey, The Shadow leaned back in the throne. There was a sharp click, well m.u.f.fled by the gla.s.s. The back of the throne revolved, carrying The Shadow through the wall, where he dropped off to let the thing ride back again.

As the panel completed its circuit, The Shadow gained a rear view of the gla.s.s sheet sliding up through his side of the wall. Neat, this delayed vanish, where the gla.s.s worked as a mirror to make the first stage quick, then remained in position until the mechanics of an actual departure could be completed.

Ming Dwan was awaiting The Shadow in the little room where they had both arrived. A door marked the exit that the Black Dragon had taken earlier.

Removing his hat, dropping his cloak collar, The Shadow revealed the features of Lamont Cranston and gave Ming Dwan a slight smile which the girl returned.

"That was close, Myra," observed The Shadow, in Cranston's leisurely tone.

(Ed - Myra Reldon (Ming Dwan) is an American girl who was born in China. She has acted as one of The Shadow's agents at various times.) "But it wasn't the closest I've seen tonight. I had to pull our favorite chestnut from the fire again."

Ming Dwan raised her thin eyebrows.

"Steve Trask?"

"None other," replied The Shadow. "What's more, he may be heading for further trouble, once he's on his own. I see the Black Dragon has provided a convenient telephone. I'll handle Steve's situation while you're getting back to Li Huang's."

The Shadow was picking up the telephone when Ming Dwan reached the door.

The girl paused as The Shadow added a detail that belonged to her department.

"Watch for a dragon token," The Shadow stated. "Li Huang is to receive

one.

and deliver it as bidden. Find out where it is to go."

With a confident nod, Ming Dwan left.

THUS far, Steve Trask hadn't encountered trouble, because he was still riding in The Shadow's cab. Its driver evidently knew Manhattan well, for he was covering a mult.i.tude of streets that Steve had never seen before.

All this was necessary to avoid questioning by patrol cars that seemed to be everywhere tonight. It wouldn't do for Steve to meet up with un.o.bliging officers who would insist upon looking at his wrists. But he felt safe while in the cab, The Shadow's driver at the wheel.

Who the driver was, Steve didn't know, because the cab lacked the usual identification card that bore the cabby's name and photograph.

The ride continued for another fifteen minutes, until the cab halted in a very quiet neighborhood where the only visible lights showed from an old p.a.w.nshop.

The cabby thrust his face through the connecting window. Steve noted thatthe fellow had a pointed face, with quick eyes, but the cab was too dark to reveal his features clearly.

"Slide into the hockshop," said the cabby. "Tell old uncle to unclamp the jewelry. Say that Shrevvy sent you. I'll be waiting."

Alighting, Steve entered the shop and found the p.a.w.nbroker. Mention of "Shrevvy" produced immediate service, but Steve expected the process to be prolonged. Instead, it took less than five minutes. It seemed that handcuffs weren't like ordinary locks. Each brand of cuff had its own interchangeable key.

As soon as the old p.a.w.nbroker had satisfied himself as to the make and model, he unlocked the handcuffs and handed them to Steve.

"Keep them for your trouble," remarked Steve with a grin. Then looking about, he added: "Is there a back door out of this place? I don't want Shrevvy to put himself in a jam on my account."

The p.a.w.nbroker showed Steve, through the back door which led into a darkened alley. Going out Steve decided that he'd done the right thing. After all, he was making it easier for the cabby, and therefore for The Shadow.

Maybe The Shadow wouldn't want it that way but Steve did. He was an independent sort, Steve was, and though he owed much to The Shadow; he preferred to operate on his own.

Hand in his pocket, Steve clutched the jet dragon, glad that it was still there. Pausing at the outlet of the alley, Steve took a long look, just to make sure. In gazing along the street, he didn't bother to probe the darkness around him. The alley was its own security, helpful with its thick darkness.

More helpful to others than to Steve.

One step toward the street, and Steve was clamped from both flanks by a pair of brawny men who knew their business. His arms were pinned behind him so firmly that the handcuff treatment reminded Steve of putty. So expert were these captors that they bent Steve right back to his heels, which enabled them to clamp their free hands over his mouth.

Then Steve's captors were carrying him, still doubled, into a sedan, where they planted him without relieving pressure.

What added to Steve's bitter defeat was the course that the sedan took.

It swung around the block and rolled right past Shrevvy's cab, which was still waiting in front of the p.a.w.nshop!

As the sedan rolled along, Steve kept staring upward through the window, unable to fight against the pressure that held him muscle-bound. There was no comfort in what Steve saw. He recognized buildings that the car was pa.s.sing and knew that they were on the fringe of Chinatown. Steve was going right back to the ominous quarter of Manhattan where his strange adventures had begun, but this time he wasn't traveling in quest of a miniature dragon carved from jet.

Steve Trask already owned such a curio. He was carrying it in his pocket and he could feel its bulge - like the pressure of a gun, applied muzzle-first.

For that black talisman meant death to its carrier!

Twice The Shadow had frustrated doom intended for Steve Trask. If the cloaked stranger from nowhere could miraculously appear to stay the present threat, Steve would be willing to believe anything. For Steve had deliberately put himself beyond The Shadow's protection, only to meet up with this.

Stolid faces, peering down at Steve's, seemed by their very lack ofexpression to taunt him concerning the death he knew must come!