"I mean, Burke, that we are already taking new preventative measures against threatening crime. You are welcome to accompany Cardona and myself on our present mission. With the understanding that you will violate no confidence." "I agree to that, commissioner."

"Very well. Burke" - Weston paused wisely - "we believe that Courtney Dolver may be in danger. We are going out to see him at his Long Island home. We feel positive that Dave Callard has regretted the fact that he did not murder Dolver last night."

Weston spoke with a tone of definite belief. Clyde Burke gave no sign to show that he knew that Weston was merely building up the reporter's own suggestion.

In fact, Clyde showed some surprise. Joe Cardona repressed a grin. He liked the way in which the commissioner was handling the reporter.

"We are starting at once," added Weston. "Are you ready to go with us?"

"Absolutely," returned Clyde Burke, warmly. "They're not expecting me back at the office until you've finished with me. I'll go along, commissioner. Glad to -"

A telephone buzzed its interruption. Weston picked up the instrument and held brief conversation; Cardona and Clyde heard him speak about Dolver's. The commissioner concluded by giving information concerning the best route to the importer's home.

"THAT was Mallikan," declared Weston, as he hung up. "He's read your story, Burke. He talked a bit worried."

"On account of Dave Callard?" inquired Clyde.

"Yes," replied Weston. "He says that since he is the only person in town who knew young Callard, he may be in danger. He doesn't want trouble from a murderer."

"How about Markham as his bodyguard?" queried Cardona.

"We can discuss that later," chuckled Weston. "For the present, I prefer to accomplish two aims at once.

Since we are going directly to Dolver's, I told Mallikan to come there, also."

"Alone?" asked Cardona.

"Certainly," replied Weston. "He said he had a suspicion that he might have been watched recently; but I doubt that harm could befall him within the next hour. The roads are well traveled between here and Dolver's home. Mallikan should undergo no risk driving out."

The trio started from the office. They reached the commissioner's big car; a police chauffeur piloted them eastward toward one of the huge bridges leading to Long Island. After they had crossed the East River, Weston made new comment.

"Bringing Mallikan to Dolver's is a good plan," announced Weston. "Mallikan knows Dave Callard by sight; Dolver encountered the rogue at the time of Shurrick's murder. It would be wise for each to hear the other's description.

"After that, we shall see to the protection of each man. If Callard is becoming desperate, he might be anxious to eliminate Mallikan as well as Dolver. Particularly, Cardona, since Callard has probably read the newspapers also."

"That's right, commissioner," agreed the ace. "He knows that his game went blooey. Our pinning that gun of Ralgood's on him was something he didn't figure." It was completely dark by this time. As the commissioner's car swung away from the main highway, its headlamps cut a swath through solid inkiness.

A QUARTER of a mile away from the boulevard, the chauffeur swung through an opening between two front hedges and brought the car to a stop near a gloomy portico. A light flashed on above the porch.

Someone in the house had heard the car arrive.

Weston and Cardona alighted; Clyde followed. The chauffeur pulled up ahead. The lights of the car showed a side hedge across the lawn of Dolver's grounds; then those lights went dim as the chauffeur pressed the switch. The front door of the house opened.

A stocky servant peered out to the porch; turned about and spoke to someone. Courtney Dolver appeared; the tall importer stepped forward to greet the arrivals.

Handshakes were exchanged. Then the visitors entered, followed by Dolver and his servant. The big door slammed shut.

From a spot near the front hedge came the vague sound of a whispered laugh. The Shadow had arrived here beforehand. This was his focal point - for tonight. He had seen Clyde Burke with Weston and Cardona. With his agent within to report on doings there, The Shadow could remain amid the outer dark.

CHAPTER XI. OUT OF THE DARK.

COURTNEY DOLVER had led his visitors to a room at the side of his large mansion. Here they were standing amid sc.r.a.ped walls; for the place was being repapered. In the center of the room stood a large table; about it an odd a.s.sortment of chairs. Beyond was a bay window; its two end panes set at angles; its large center sash on a line with the wall.

"Sorry to receive you in such poor fashion, commissioner," apologized Dolver, in his dignified tone. "The decorators have been very disappointing. Marching in and out all day, so the servants say, and accomplishing very little."

The room was poorly lighted by two floor lamps. They were near the walls; the illumination was bad beside the center table. Dolver struck a match and lighted the five wicks of a heavy candelabrum that stood upon the table.

The flames flickered as they shone upon the bulky bra.s.s stem of the stand. Dolver looked toward the windows; they were open.

"We need light," remarked the importer, "but we need ventilation also, with the house in this condition.

Ah! The breeze has ended. We can leave the windows open."

He turned about and spied the stocky servant standing by the door to the hall. Dolver gave an order, the man nodded and left. When he returned, he was accompanied by two others, both stout-looking fellows.

"My servants, commissioner," stated Dolver. "This is Lessing, who came to the door with me. The others are Partridge and Cray. I have other men in my employ; they are at my lodge in the Catskills."

"These men are reliable?" questioned Weston.

"Everyone," replied Dolver, emphatically. "They have weapons available, commissioner. Rifles that I intend to take to the lodge." "No revolvers?"

"Only one. I have kept that for myself."

"Revolvers would be preferable, Dolver. Better still, you should have the protection of men from headquarters."

"I agree, commissioner. We can reserve the rifles until we hunt deer next week."

"You expect a party at your lodge?"

"A few friends. Lessing usually accompanies me also. He is an excellent marksman. Very well, men" - Dolver spoke briskly to his servants - "you may leave. I shall not need you for the present. But be within call."

Dolver watched the servants go from the room. He turned about as Weston spoke.

"Mallikan is coming out here tonight," declared the commissioner. "He called me at my office. He believes that he may be in danger."

"Mallikan?" questioned Dolver. "Who is Mallikan?"

"The shipping man who saw young Callard here in New York. Prior to the first murders."

"Not Roger Mallikan? Of the Indo-China Shipping Bureau?"

"Yes. Are you acquainted with him?"

Dolver shook his head.

"I know Mallikan only by name," he stated. "I used to import a large amount of East Indian bra.s.sware.

Some of it came by ships controlled by Mallikan's company.

"Roger Mallikan. Odd, indeed, that he should have known young Callard. I did not see Mallikan's name mentioned in the newspaper reports."

"It was merely mentioned," explained Weston. "That was prior to last night. It is not surprising that you did not observe Mallikan's name."

"I shall be glad to meet the fellow," mused Dolver. Then, pausing, he a.s.sumed a serious expression and glanced toward the door to make sure that the servants had gone. "But before Mallikan arrives, commissioner, I must tell you of something strange that I discovered here."

"Today?" queried Weston.

"This evening," replied Dolver. "After you had called. I had the servants prepare this room in order to receive you. While they were bringing in the table and the chairs, I noticed that end shade yonder."

Dolver pointed across the flickering candles. The window shade that he indicated was lowered farther than the others. Its cream-colored surface appeared dull, for it was out of the light.

"When I went to raise the shade," explained Dolver, "I observed marks upon it. Chinese characters, made with green chalk. The window was open; someone could have entered and written them.

"Come. Let me show them to you. We shall need light." Dolver looked about, then picked up thecandelabrum. "Perhaps they have some significance."

Dolver led the procession, the flaring candelabrum held low as he clutched it in his right fist. The center portion of the stick bulged two inches thick above the importer's hand.

As they reached the window, the candles began to waver. Dolver stooped beneath the level of the high sill and held the flames there until the breeze subsided.

Dolver then pointed upward with his left hand, toward the shade that he had indicated.

"Look, commissioner," he said. "Do you see the markings? Wait until I raise the candle higher."

Dolver had turned slightly. As he spoke, he came up, shielding the candelabrum with his body. Still pointing with his left hand, he turned himself toward the window. His right hand moved upward, straight in front of his body; the flames from the candles showed the dull-green markings.

"I see them," exclaimed Weston, while Dolver was still moving. "Look, Cardona -"

A roar sounded from beyond the window. Daggerlike, a burst of flame tongued inward directly toward the heart of the man who was squarely before the window: Courtney Dolver!

With the shot came a loud clang. Dolver staggered back with a terrified cry. The candelabrum was wavering in the importer's fist, the candles fizzing from the jolt. Cardona caught the man; Dolver released the candelabrum and it clanged to the floor.

Weston had jumped aside instinctively; Clyde Burke had ducked toward the wall. Courtney Dolver was still framed in front of the blackened window, supported there by Joe Cardona. Weston shouted at the detective.

"Drop him, Cardona -"

The detective released Dolver and dived to the floor. Dolver had clutched the sill; he was still in the danger zone. Making amends for his previous lapse, Cardona seized the importer's ankles and yanked Dolver flat.

Weston was drawing a revolver; Cardona did the same. A servant dashed into the living room, carrying a rifle. It was Cray. Doors slammed elsewhere, evidence that Partridge and Lessing had heard the shot and were on their way outside.

Cray reached the window; rifle in one hand, the servant hurtled the sill. Cardona bounded after him, revolver in readiness. Commissioner Weston stood just to one side of the window, his own gun ready should he be needed in the chase.

Courtney Dolver had come to his hands and knees; eyes bulging, the importer stared toward Clyde Burke, who was crawling forward. The reporter motioned to Dolver to keep below the sill.

"Did he clip you?" queried Clyde, anxiously. "Are you hurt?"

Dolver shook his head. Raising one hand weakly, the importer pointed to the heavy candelabrum. The bra.s.s piece was lying on the floor, its flames extinguished.

Clyde Burke stared at the bulging portion of the candlestick, just below the four branches. He saw the thickened section that had projected just above Dolver's fist.

The bra.s.s bore a deepened dent. Beyond it, on the floor by the window, lay a mutilated pellet. ClydeBurke reached for the bit of grayish metal. It burned his fingers as he touched it. That pellet was the bullet that had been fired from the dark.

A shot had been aimed directly for Dolver's head. But only that protecting rod of bra.s.s had prevented the bullet from reaching a living mark. Death, Clyde Burke realized, had been close to Courtney Dolver.

Strange chance had stopped a murderous thrust.

CHAPTER XII. FIGURES IN THE DARK.

THE SHADOW had seen the shot in the dark. Watching the three-paned bay window, The Shadow had seen the figure approach it. Then had come the report of the gun; the flash of flame tonguing toward the window. After that, blackness. As he crouched, peering and listening, The Shadow had caught no token of any person fleeing from the shelter of the house.

True, the angle of the bay window served against The Shadow's observation. Moreover, there was a corner of the house not far beyond the living room. Someone could have fled in that direction. Hence The Shadow swung suddenly along the side hedge, moving parallel to the house.

It was while The Shadow was taking this course that men surged out from the house itself. First, Cray, springing through the bay window; then Cardona after him.

As The Shadow progressed farther, he saw a light come on from the wing of the house, just past the corner of the main section. The light was above a little porch; it showed Partridge standing at an opened door, rifle in hand.

A flashlight glimmered at the corner; its beam swept the lawn. Cardona flashed a torch of his own; this new glare showed the man with the first light. It was Lessing; he had preceded Partridge from the doorway. The latter had lingered to turn on the porch light.

Like Partridge and Cray, Lessing had a rifle. Cardona, swinging up to him, came past the corner and saw Partridge on the porch. Cray was close to Cardona; the detective bellowed orders to the three.

"Spread out!" was Cardona's command. "Get around the house! Everywhere. I'm heading around by the front!"

The servants followed the injunction. Lessing zigzagged out across the lawn, swinging the beam of his light toward the hedge. The pa.s.sing glare showed The Shadow against the blackness of the bushes; but Lessing failed to see that motionless form. Like a chameleon, The Shadow had blended with blackness.

Cray and Partridge were rounding the back of the house. The Shadow could see Cardona running to the front; there Joe was barking to Weston's chauffeur, who had clambered from the commissioner's car at sound of the shot. Cardona ordered the chauffeur to watch the front of the house, using the car as his base.

TAKING advantage of Lessing's turning, The Shadow cut toward the front hedge. Lessing was coming over to look along the side fringe of the lawn. The Shadow chose to avoid the servant's search.

He swung past Weston's car; then cut in toward the house itself, to avoid Joe Cardona, who was out on the front drive. The Shadow reached a darkened spot by the far front corner of the house.

Cardona was moving in toward the front porch. The light was still burning in the portico; but its rays did not carry past clumps of bushes that were close to the wall.

Weston's chauffeur had decided to beat the bushes on the left, where the car was situated. Cardona wascoming to search among the bushes on the right.

From this position, Joe turned his flashlight toward the nearest bushes. Instantly, he delivered a shout and swung his revolver upward.

A man sprang up from cover. Husky and broad-shouldered, he hurled himself upon the aiming detective.