Boots Marcus had said that three letters had come to Charles Kistelle by way of the blind office. The Shadow knew the significance of those letters. Each had been a summons — a call to the daring master crook, telling him that the stage was set for the perpetration of a perfect crime.
The fourth letter!
It came from The Shadow’s cloak; it lay there, in its original envelope — that message which The Shadow had seen Rodan prepare. This was not a summons. It was a warning. Should it reach Kistelle, it would indicate the advisability of caution.
This message would not arrive as Rodan had intended. In Daltona, now, Rodan’s qualms had ended. The man was probably chiding himself because he had fancied Lamont Cranston to be a menace. He would send no further warning to Kistelle.
In New Orleans, Kistelle was serenely waiting. He might move to some other city; if he should, word would come to the empty office of the Eastern Specialty Company. Picture post cards would artfully disclose Kistelle’s itinerary.
There, too, would come the letter presaging the next crime. Boots Marcus was dead. Pasty was dead. All communications would lie unreceived, unless -
The Shadow’s laugh rippled softly through the sanctum. No — Kistelle’s letters would not go unreceived. So far as the crook would know, Boots Marcus would still be on duty. But the real recipient, the one who would take over the dead gang leader’s contact work, would be The Shadow!
THE hand of The Shadow inscribed the name of a city upon the paper before him.
New Orleans.
The brilliant ink spoke unwritten meanings. It showed the trend of The Shadow’s thoughts.
There was a simple way to deal with Charles Kistelle. Tonight, The Shadow could set forth to meet the master crook face to face. That would end the criminal career of Charles Kistelle.
But, as the name of the city faded, The Shadow’s hand inscribed another word.
No.
This negative announcement also had its important meaning. It was followed by the listing of three names:
Carl Walton.
Sherman Brooks.
Perry Davenport.
These three were held for crimes that they had not committed. Should The Shadow, acting as avenger, eliminate Kistelle, what would be the outcome? It might prove beneficial, so far as the future was concerned; but the grave danger existed that it would also obliterate the traces of the past.
Three innocent men were helpless. Unless the action of the Shadow could clear them, they would pay the penalty for the crimes of the supercrook and his alibi henchmen. The Shadow’s laugh was grim. It showed that he knew Kistelle must be temporarily neglected. The man could be reached when needed.
When would that be?
The hand revealed the answer:
The next crime.
There was the solution! If Kistelle were awaiting another summons, its arrival would be The Shadow’s opportunity. Then, striking from the dark, he could catch Kistelle and an underling in the act.
But, as the words faded from the paper, The Shadow’s hand deliberately inscribed a large interrogation point.
When would the next crime be? What proof was there that more than four men existed who looked alike with such a remarkable resemblance? Would another crime occur?
There was but one answer. The Shadow, to deal fully with this crime ring, must first know all. Could he discover the cause of the amazing coincidence that had brought the same strange facial resemblances to these crooks, he would be capable of striking with certainty.
Delving into the past was the only course. Through it, The Shadow could learn the total number of these men. To date, he had worked on theory. Now, he needed facts. Where were they to be found?
The hands held Kistelle’s record. Beside it lay the photograph of the man as he once had been. Some time — during that period when Kistelle had disappeared — a change had come over the physiognomy of the supercrook. Where had Kistelle been when the change had transpired?
THE SHADOW laughed. He knew. Kistelle had fled to Mexico. He had unquestionably been joined by others there. Where had they gone? What had happened to them?
The hands of The Shadow ripped open the envelope that Rodan had addressed to New York. Out dropped the folded paper. The Shadow spread it and studied the cryptic sign.
A circle, with crossed center. Above it and below it, crescents, with their points turned downward. A primitive inscription designed by some ancient race.
The white hands of The Shadow turned the paper in different directions. Which was the top of the sheet? Were the crescents pointing up or down?
The Shadow knew, because he had seen Rodan inscribe the symbol. Now, examining it closely, he saw the indicating mark.
The vertical line that formed the upright of the cross mark did not touch the circle at the bottom. This lack of completion was all that the symbol required to prove its purpose.
The Shadow copied the cryptic sign upon a blank sheet of paper. Then he turned the paper upside down, and performed the same action. In each instance, he left the vertical line incomplete at the bottom.
Now he had two symbols; one indicating down-turned crescents, the other upturned.
The logic was evident. Since Rodan’s symbol had been carefully designed to show that the crescents were down, there must be a different meaning if the crescents were up. The Shadow laughed. Below Rodan’s sign, at the left, he wrote:
Stay away
Underneath his own cryptic symbol, he marked:
Come here
This was surely a sign of primitive hieroglyphics. A crude, simple form of writing that dealt in opposites. The two symbols told their silent story as they shone from the paper with The Shadow’s translation beneath.
Then the markings vanished; the one at the left passing out before the one at the right.
Again, The Shadow laughed. He knew what to expect — if his conjecture of further crime was correct. A symbol signifying “Come here” would arrive for Charles Kistelle. It would lead the master plotter to a new and carefully prepared scene of operation.
Kistelle would receive that message; but not until after it had passed through the hands of The Shadow. When he answered the call, Kistelle would find The Shadow awaiting him.
This course of delayed action had obvious advantages. But in the interim, what would The Shadow do? It was not the policy of this master mind to remain dormant. The hands of The Shadow were fingering the paper which bore Tom Rodan’s mysterious message. There was a deep significance to The Shadow’s action.
Kistelle and his men of evil had not designed their symbolic code. It was evident that they had learned it from some persons whom they had met. Where? In Mexico!
The Shadow laughed. His hands disappeared. When they returned, they carried a sheaf of loosely bound pages. These, The Shadow spread upon the table.
The glossy sheets were filled with photographs and symbolic signs that dealt with the Aztecs, those Indians of Mexico who had developed a degree of civilization before the Spaniards had conquered them.
Here, in The Shadow’s possession, lay detailed information on the Aztecs — descriptive matter that included recent findings. The pages turned with precision, indicating that The Shadow had studied Aztec lore. To the eyes in the dark, these facts were familiar ones. But in all this accumulated data, The Shadow saw no symbols like the one Rodan had sent Kistelle.
AT the back of the loosely bound pages, The Shadow’s finger paused upon a written paragraph. This had reference to the lost tribes of Aztec origin. It mentioned how offshoots of the major race had, because of their obscurity, escaped the conquest of the Spaniards.