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.
Strampf began to pass the time by quizzing the other agents. He wanted facts regarding The Shadow's past; and Strampf showed that he was very well informed on a great many of The Shadow's methods.
Fortunately, the agents were able to parry his questions. They, themselves, knew but little regarding The Shadow, other than the facts that Strampf mentioned. Since Strampf had those details, the prisoners admitted that they were correct. Beyond that, they furnished nothing of importance.
WORKING alone on the black-ray machine, Burbank had his back to the living room. He could hear Strampf's rasped questions; and Burbank sensed that they had taken an insidious tone. If the prisoners continued to show themselves of no value it would not be long before Strampf recommended that they be slaughtered.
Burbank wanted to stall with the intricate machine; but he began to think of another plan. Perhaps if he got it working, the prisoners would have a better chance. Burbank hated to see the apparatus get into criminal hands; but he felt sure that he could fix it so it would keep going out of order.
So he calmly hooked up wires and adjusted portions of mechanism, until he struck two features that puzzled him.
Certain essential parts were missing, yet they had all been there when the machine was stowed away, for Burbank himself had dismantled it. The Shadow would have had no cause to remove them; for he had put the packed device in an obscure storehouse, where no one would have occasion to meddle.
Standing back to study the machine, Burbank made his second discovery. The thick base of the machine was equipped with two knobs, ready for electric wires. Those posts did not belong there. Only The Shadow could have placed them.
Burbank instantly saw the reason. The base was hollow. It could contain compact equipment for sending a radio beam.
Burbank connected the posts. With that move, he put the beam in action. After a few minutes, he did more.
Burbank fingered the wire; every time he loosened it he interrupted the beam. Burbank made those spaces into dots and dashes of a special code. He was sending a message to the persons who handled the direction-finders.
Burbank detailed the interior arrangements at this prison. He added snatches of conversation that he heard from the other room. Most important, was an ultimatum that Strampf delivered. The lean man spoke it to the other prisoners.
"You don't know much," sneered Strampf. "Maybe there is a way to jog your memories. I'll give you until tomorrow night at nine. If you won't talk by that time, you will be dead! Like The Shadow!"
Ace Gandley, listening, showed a leer of anticipation. The job would be one for his machine-gunners. He could picture the prisoners lined up against the wall, withering under the rattling fire. After that, a blast would wreck this house. Fresh corpses would be buried like The Shadow's.
Toying with the wire, Burbank transcribed the news. He set nine o'clock as the absolute dead line.
Twenty-one hours for The Shadow's aids to live. That was all.
Burbank was completing the message when Strampf came into the little room. Coolly Burbank kept up his tactics with the wire under the glaring investigator's very eyes.
BURBANK had chosen the best policy. Any quick move would have aroused Strampf's suspicion. The very carefulness of Burbank's methodical process deceived Strampf.
Burbank finished the message, gave the wire a few careful adjustments to announce that he was signing off. Then loosening the wire entirely, he arose and spoke to Strampf.
"Some parts are missing," declared Burbank. "The machine won't work without them."
"You're stalling like the others," returned Strampf. "I see the game! You hid some of the parts!"
Burbank denied it. Angrily Strampf called in Ace and another guard. He told the pair to frisk Burbank and search the room. They did. They pummeled through the mattresses of the two-decker bed that belonged to Burbank and Mann. They found nothing.
Strampf glared at Burbank who shrugged his shoulders. Pointing a bony finger at the ray machine, Strampf ordered:
"Fix it!"
"I can't!" Burbank's tone was frank. "I need those parts. Since you haven't found them, I can prove what I say. Look!"
Burbank took paper and pencil. He drew a complicated diagram for Strampf's benefit. Burbank marked two portions of the penciled book-up.
"If I had those," he insisted, "the machine would work. Here! I'll give you the exact details and dimensions. Get them made up at a good machine shop. I'll do the rest."
Strampf took the paper, with the snapped promise:
"You'll have those parts tomorrow!"
Burbank knew that Strampf's statement was a wide one. It would be a few days before the special parts could be shaped. That would mean a respite for Burbank; but not for the other agents.
Still, Burbank was confident that it would not matter. He was sure that the prisoners could expect The Shadow before nine tomorrow night.
SOON afterward, a telephone jangled in an empty apartment close to The Shadow's temporary headquarters. In his cramped abode, The Shadow heard the tingle. That unanswered call was the signal that he awaited.
Like a human wraith, The Shadow glided from his hiding place.
He paused outside the building to look up to the windows of the apartment that the Melrues occupied.