it. Grewson had a soft job. Maybe you've got it all O.K. But how are you going to get rid of this pair of
mugs we've got here?"
"Very simply," said the professor. "Here in this laboratory. There will be no trace of death, Ricordo. No
trace whatever."
"Just one thing," remarked Ricordo. "What are you going to do about the big plans, now that Jocelyn is
finished?"
"I still deal silent death," replied Urlich coldly. "It will be simple to gain the assistance of another financier.
Leave that to me, Ricordo."
"With The Shadow blotted out," said the gang leader, "we can start right where we quit. There's only one
thing, professor — I'll have to lay low for a while."
"Yes? Why?"
"Well, the coppers have still got Slips Harbeck. He may squeal. That's bad enough. But I made it lots
worse tonight, going into Red Mike's. I didn't think there'd be such a big mob there. It's all around by
now that Larry Ricordo is back in town."
"Ah!" Professor Urlich pondered long. "That is unfortunate, Ricordo. It will temporarily deprive me of
your useful services. Perhaps it will mean a long period of inactivity."
"It probably will, professor. I can hang out here — "
"That is hardly wise, since a matter of many weeks is involved. It would be better, Ricordo, for you to
actually leave town."
"The sooner the better, professor."
"Yes?"
"Sure. The bulls may already be out to spot me. If I scram in a hurry, they'll still keep looking, and they
won't find me."
"Where would you go?"
"West. Chicago. Maybe Milwaukee."
"Go upstairs to my office," suggested Professor Urlich. "You will find a railway schedule there. It is not
quite midnight. Find out if a train is still available to-night."
LARRY RICORDO headed for the spiral stairway. Professor Urlich stood in deep thought. Cliff
Marsland, watching him, saw a shrewd, wicked gleam appear upon the scientist's face. Cliff wondered
what thoughts were passing within that evil brain which evolved its schemes of death.
Larry Ricordo returned. He announced that a Limited was leaving at one o'clock. Professor Folcroft
Urlich nodded.
"Take that train," he said. "But be careful. Go by subway to the Grand Central Station. It would be best
to enter the terminal by the Lexington Avenue side."
"Don't worry about me," grinned Ricordo. "That's just the way I will go in; and there's no smart dicks
going to spot me, even if they do have the word out to grab me."
"We must always consider the element of uncertainty," responded the scientist. "It would be unfortunate,
Ricordo, should you fall into the hands of the police."
"Listen, professor" — Ricordo's tones were harsh—"I pack this gat. See it?" The gang leader produced a
large revolver as he spoke. "While I'm on the subway, while I'm going into the station, while I'm on the
train — all that time I'll have my mitt on this smoke wagon. If any dumb bull tries to get me, I'll give him the
works."
"And then — "
"I can duck out plenty quick. I've done it before. Don't forget that."
"But if you should be outnumbered — surrounded — "
"They'd never get me, professor. I'd shoot my way through them. Even if I did get plugged, I'd keep
blazing. They'll never take Larry Ricordo alive! That's certain."
There was a positive tone in the ganglord's growl. Professor Folcroft Urlich smiled in a pleased manner.
"Excellent, Ricordo," he said. "I feel sure, now, that your departure will be wise. Come. I shall
accompany you downstairs. You have just the right amount of time to reach the Grand Central."
Leaving Cliff Marsland and Clyde Burke still helpless upon the floor, Urlich went with Ricordo to the
ground floor. Together, the two men circled the outer corridor. Ricordo had little thought of the death
machine tonight. This zone of danger meant nothing when Professor Urlich trod it with him.
After Ricordo had departed, Professor Urlich returned to the laboratory. His first action was to glance at
the row of lights that were placed above the spiral stairway.
Those lights indicated the three zones below: red for the outer portico; green for the inner corridor; white
for the balcony about the pit that housed the grim machine of death.
Those lights corresponded with a similar row upon the machine itself. Connected by wires of low,
harmless amperage, they served as signals. Here, in his laboratory, Professor Urlich could learn the
approach of an intruder in time to reach the powerful electric device that lay below.
The lights were all out, at present; the absence of the red gleam showed that Larry Ricordo had departed
from the portico where Professor Urlich had left him.
The scientist smiled. He emitted a low call. His two solemn-faced assistants, Sanoja and Rasch,
appeared.
The scientist spoke to each man in turn. The assistants nodded and went to appointed tasks. Cliff
watched them. He noticed that one kept his eyes upon the lights, while the other was keeping close tabs
upon Cliff and Clyde.
Professor Urlich stalked across the floor of the laboratory. The room was illuminated only in spots, with
darkness toward the back of the building. Professor Urlich, however, did not again continue toward the
staircase that led downward. Instead, he ascended the spiral to the third floor.
The scientist entered the little office a few moments later. Seated at his desk, he became immersed in
thought. His evil lips began to mutter words that were barely audible.
"The Shadow!" Urlich's murmur was scornful. "Bah! He has been ended to-night — unless" — the
scientist's shoulders shrugged—"unless— But what of it? I do not fear him. Let him come — he is only
one. But the police — they are many — "
A pause; then Urlich muttered two names, repeating the second one several times:
"Jocelyn — Ricordo — Ricordo — Ricordo — "
FIENDISHLY, the scientist smiled. His evil brain was reverting to the past, to his statements regarding
the uselessness of those who blocked his path. He was considering Larry Ricordo as he had considered
Thomas Jocelyn.
Men of different caliber; yet men who both were pieces in the game that Professor Urlich played. He had
chosen both of them by a process of selection. He had considered a suitable replacement for each,
should occasion demand it.
Professor Urlich was thinking of his own strength; the security which he possessed in this isolated
building. Little of his work was known to the world. If it were, what could matter? Urlich was a scientist;
his laboratory was filled with the beginnings of useful inventions and beneficial experiments — blinds that
would surely cover all devices of death.
Thomas Jocelyn had become a menace, for Jocelyn, his usefulness ended, had known too much. Jocelyn
had been eliminated, serving as a snare of silent death for The Shadow.
Larry Ricordo remained. He, too, was a menace to security, for his usefulness had ended, and he knew
far more than Jocelyn had known.
Professor Urlich had brought Ricordo here only because necessity had compelled it. He had sent the
gang leader away because that had been the only alternative.
But in his shrewd brain — at the time when Cliff Marsland had noted the scientist's expression of
evil — Folcroft Urlich had considered another course.
Those questions to Larry Ricordo had been well designed. The gang lord's replies had sponsored
Urlich's new decision. The scientist picked up the telephone upon his table. He smiled as he realized that
a call from this blind line would be untraceable.
A few minutes later, a voice sounded through the receiver. Professor Folcroft Urlich smiled. He
responded, in a low, steady tone.
"Hello," he said. "Detective headquarters?… Very well. I wish to speak with Detective Cardona — "
CHAPTER XIX. ZONES OF DEATH
DARKNESS enshrouded the circular edifice that housed Professor Folcroft Urlich and his devices of
death. Only a slight glow came from the skylights above the circling outside roof of the second-story
laboratory.
None could see into that strange room, whither the scientist had now returned. Even from above, the
frosted windows blocked all prying eyes, should any have existed in the sky above. Huge, bulky barriers,
those skylights were as firm as a solid roof.
The third floor now was dark; and it showed dimly as the top tier of the circular pyramid. There were
windows there: one, in the scientist's office, was the opening through which Larry Ricordo had sometimes
stared at the gloomy mansion which hid the circular structure from the outside world.
A tiny light glimmered amid darkness. It shone within the recesses of the old mansion. Its rays
disappeared. Something swished as an invisible figure crossed the space between the mansion and the
circular building.
When the tiny, disklike ray again appeared, it was close beside the outer portico of the queer edifice. Its
gleam moved blinking through the darkness. The Shadow was circling Professor Urlich's domain.
After a complete, stealthy tour of inspection, the flashing light stopped near the front of the building. Its
rays shone upon the double door that barred entrance. The light ran along the base of the portico, and
shone on plates of metal.
Probing beams searched the space beneath the extending roof and flashed upon metal strips, placed
beneath the sheltering projection.
A low, soft laugh came from hidden lips. An eerie whisper seemed to float through the spaces of the
portico — the iron-posted cloister which The Shadow had not entered. The light went out. The Shadow,
completely veiled by darkness, knew that some trap awaited any who might enter that inviting shelter.
What was the menace? That, The Shadow intended to learn.
Guided by amazing intuition, warned by his knowledge of the master plotter's power, the phantom of the
night cautiously avoided the luring trap.
Another investigator would surely have advanced to the wall within the portico; would surely have gone
to examine the double door that afforded entrance to the building. The Shadow did not do so.
Instead, the weird visitor withdrew a dozen paces from the building. With keen eyes, The Shadow
studied the dim projection of the portico roof.
That outer rim was approximately ten feet above the ground; perhaps a trifle less. The Shadow's
perceiving gaze picked a spot midway between two iron posts.
A rapid stride; a series of long, swift steps: The Shadow sprang upward with a mighty leap. His powerful
hands caught the projecting edge of the portico roof. The black cloak swished as The Shadow's form
swung back and forth like a pendulum.
Had the grasp failed, The Shadow would have landed upon the metal flooring of the portico. Instead, he
dangled from a spot that was free from the signal-equipped zone.
The Shadow's form moved upward as the powerful hands retained their hold. Gradually, The Shadow
gained the roof above the portico.
A LOW, circular wall lay ahead — a rising circle that indicated the top of the first story. The Shadow
raised himself above that tier, and continued to a higher surface — the outer wall of the laboratory floor.
The tall shape worked its way up this obstacle. The fingers within the black gloves clutched the top. A
few moments later, the form of The Shadow was silhouetted by the glow that came through the skylights.
The master of darkness was poised upon the edge of the second roof.
To reach the third floor — its walls looming with darkened windows, The Shadow must cross the wide
space that held the skylights. There were heavy braces in between; yet they were hardly broad enough to
allow the passage of a form without a betraying patch of darkness.
This offered small worry to so weird a prowler as The Shadow; nevertheless, it caused the black-garbed
visitor to pause in search of an alternative.
A low laugh was scarcely audible. The Shadow had found a plan. With catlike stride, balanced upon the
very edge of the circular roof, The Shadow began to travel around the building.
His objective was a break in that series of skylights. One blocked sheet of glass was all that he needed. It
was at the rear of the building that The Shadow found the spot he wanted. There, a metal-sheeted space
appeared in place of a skylight.
The Shadow paused. There was no haste in his action. He had come here directly from the episode at
Thomas Jocelyn's. It had required but short investigation to learn that a Professor Folcroft Urlich lived at
destination.
In one brief call to Burbank, The Shadow had gained no knowledge of Cliff Marsland's disappearance.
In his report, Cliff had assured Burbank that all was well. He had been ordered off duty. Hence The
Shadow had yet to learn that two of his henchmen lay prisoners within these walls.
Clyde Burke, instead of watching and informing Burbank of Cliff Marsland's capture, had also bungled.
His precipitous attack had been an impulse.
Soon, Burbank would know that ill had befallen Clyde Burke, because of the agent's failure to report.
But when would Burbank again gain communication with The Shadow?
It seemed to matter nothing at this moment; for The Shadow was at the den of the monster who had
captured his men. Straight ahead lay a path to those third-story windows; from there, the course lay
down the spiral into the laboratory. The Shadow was a rescuer at hand!
THEN, a chance discovery by The Shadow changed all course of action. The metal-sheathed frame
which broke the row of skylights trembled slightly beneath the pressure of The Shadow's touch. The
black-clad form moved slowly backward. Firm hands worked with the barrier. They found it loose.
A blocking slab with weakened fastenings. This could be turned to good use by The Shadow! It formed
a new and unexpected mode of entry into the second story of the circular building. Handling the sheathed
portion of roof as though it were a trapdoor, The Shadow slowly pried it upward.
Powerful strength, applied with superb skill, caused the barrier to yield noiselessly. An opening gained,
The Shadow lay along the edge of the roof and peered into the space beneath.
The tiny rays of the flashlight broke the darkness. The Shadow was gazing down at the spiral staircase
within the hollow cylinder — the route that led from the laboratory to the floor below.
The barrier raised still farther. The lithe form of The Shadow slipped through the space, and dropped
noiselessly to the spiral staircase. The flashlight glimmered toward the door that led into the
laboratory — the door at the head of the stairs.
Be
fore entering that room, The Shadow had another purpose. His object was to explore the downward
path; to gain full knowledge of this stairway's purpose.
With the light beaming upon each succeeding step, The Shadow continued toward the ground. He
stopped as he discovered the sliding door on the floor below. A brief inspection enabled him to open it.
The Shadow peered into the dim circular corridor that followed the interior contour of the first floor. The
Shadow closed the door as he noted the metal flooring of the corridor.
The steps still led downward. The Shadow reached the bottom. He found the final door and opened it.
His discerning eyes beheld the dim, high-vaulted pit. They studied the huge, glittering machine that stood
in the center of this great chamber. The Shadow looked toward the balcony that surrounded the pit.
A hollow laugh, chilling in its vague tones, sounded through the silence of that deserted room. The broken
air waves caught the echoes which reverberated with a demoniacal cry from the walls where the balcony
circled.
The Shadow's gaze turned toward the metal floor. Here was the same danger that he had sensed before.
Then the master's eye perceived the row of unlighted incandescents upon the huge machine. Red, green,
and white, those bulbs had differing significance.
The portico — the inner passage — finally the balcony. Did The Shadow recognize those circles as the
danger zones? The Shadow's action was the only answer.
With firm stride, the tall figure moved from the cylinder that housed the spiral staircase. He crossed the
pit and stood beside Professor Urlich's massive contrivance of human destruction.
Again, The Shadow's weird laugh shuddered through the pit. Not one of those three bulbs was
illuminated. The Shadow knew that he had passed the zones of death.
Mysteriously, he lingered beside the huge machine, his gaze turning from the wheels and levers down
toward the floor, where the current wire appeared.
Within the zones of death, The Shadow laughed. His hollow mockery was foreboding. Yet he made no
move to return toward the hollow cylinder. He seemed to regard this place as the destination which he
had sought — as the end of the trail.