The Shadow dug at the lining of his coat. Threads burst beneath his fingernails. The lining dropped, and into his cupped hand poured a mass of fine black powder.
The Shadow removed a cracker from the tin and carefully let the powder form a tiny mound upon it.
Next, he ripped the lining on the other side of his cloak, disclosing another hidden cache.
A grayish powder came from this place of concealment. It was added to the mound of black. With the corner of another cracker, The Shadow mixed the two ingredients.
He carried the cracker carefully across the vault and spread the powder at the bottom of the doorway.
He lifted the cover of the tomb and placed it against the wall. He took the water container to the door and dipped his fingers in the liquid.
He let a few sparse drops of water fall upon the mass of powder. Then he sprang back to the tomb, leaped into it and seized the cover. He dropped flat in the opening, and let the cover fall above him.
A few seconds elapsed. Then came the muffled sound of a powerful explosion. There was no motion from the coffin in the corner until a minute had passed by. Then the cover raised and The Shadow stepped from his place of safety.
The door of the vault had been blasted from its hinges! It had opened half a foot!
The Shadow threw his weight against it. At first it did not yield. Finally it gave, and the man in the black cloak was precipitated headlong into the outside air. He rose and coughed, to rid his throat of the fumes that had filled the vault.
He reached beneath the inner band of his hat and laughed softly as he removed some banknotes that were hidden there.
The Black Master had surely found them in his search, but he had probably decided that they were useless to a prisoner within a vault. That was quite true, but they were to prove useful now.
It was night. The mausoleum was in the center of a silent cemetery. The black-clad man moved among the tombstones until he reached a high picket fence.
Like a weird specter coming from the abode of the dead, he swung himself over the barrier and walked along a dirt road. It led to a highway. Farther on glimmered the lights of a little store.
The Shadow was faltering now. His strength had been sapped by the ordeals which he had undergone.
He managed to reach the store.
A man behind the counter was startled by the sight of the tall, black-clad being who entered. The Shadow spoke to him, in a voice that resembled that of Clifford Gage.
"Call me a cab," he said.
Half an hour later, a cab was speeding to New York. In the back seat, a man lay almost invisible, beneath the spreading folds of his black cloak.
He jostled back and forth whenever the cab turned a curve. He was oblivious of his journey until the taxi driver rapped against the window.
"Here we are, sir," he said.
"Wait here," ordered the passenger.
The cab was standing in front of a house on Ninety-sixth Street. The man in the black cloak climbed the steps and entered.
The Shadow went to a room on the second floor. There, in the darkness, he opened a drawer in a table and produced various objects which he distinguished purely by touch. He stowed them in the pockets of his coat.
Then he placed something upon his face and worked nimbly, still in darkness. He threw aside his cloak and hat. He took an automatic from the drawer and pocketed it.
When he again appeared upon the street, his face was that of Clifford Gage. The taximan stared at his passenger.
Entering the cab, Gage gave him the address of Doctor Heinrich Zerndorff's apartment.
In his apartment, the criminologist stared in amazement at his visitor.
"Where have you been?" he exclaimed. "Have you not found this man that you have sought?"
"The Black Master?" questioned Gage quietly. "Yes, I have found him. Last night—"
He stopped and suddenly picked up a newspaper that lay on the table. It bore the imprint of July 8th.
In huge headlines, it told of the electrocution of the three men who had placed the bombs. It announced that Sforza and Pecherkin would die the next day.
"One week," murmured Gage. Even to The Shadow this was amazing. He realized that he had lain helpless for more than seven days. He recalled the words of The Black Master — "You shall taste of death—"
He glanced at Zerndorff. The German was looking at him sympathetically. He seemed to understand what was passing in the mind of Clifford Gage.
"These men," declared Gage, pointing to the newspaper, "are innocent! Innocent, do you understand? Those who have died were guilty, although they were but tools of The Black Master! We must save these two—"
"Save them?" echoed Zerndorff.
"Yes!" replied Gage. "I met The Black Master! I have found his lair! Cardona was to capture him, but he failed me!"
"Ah!" Zerndorff's eyes lighted in understanding. "He has told me of it, yes. There was a house where he was to go, one night — but he did not go until the next night—"
"And he found?"
"Nothing! An empty house! He believed that it was a hoax. A hoax, yes."
"Where is Cardona now?"
"He has gone from town, I believe" — Zerndorff's eyes lighted suddenly — "but there is evidence at police headquarters. I have received letters, which I have given to the police — letters that have threatened me with bombs.
"They have believed that they have come from friends of these two men — Sforza and Pecherkin. Perhaps this man you call The Black Master — he has sent them?"
Doctor Zerndorff picked up the telephone. He called police headquarters and talked to a detective.
"It is Doctor Zerndorff, yes," he said. "Those letters which have come to me — I wish a friend of mine to see them. He will be there soon, yes. His name is Mr. Gage. You understand, yes?"
He hung up the telephone.
"You have no clue?" Zerndorff questioned. "Nothing you have found? We must think of everything, yes!"
"Only this." From his pocket, Gage produced the token of The Black Master. "I had two of them. One was taken away. This was left."
"You must keep it with you!" declared Zerndorff. "It is important! Go, now, to police headquarters."
Gage left. He rode in a cab to headquarters. There he was shown two crudely penciled letters — threats against the life of Doctor Zerndorff. Gage smiled as he studied them.
"No use," he said, giving them back to the detective.
"Doctor Zerndorff phoned while you were on the way," replied the man. "He says that his limousine will be outside to bring you back. His man, Otto, has a message that he is to give to you."
Clifford Gage walked to the street door. He was smiling now, and as he stepped into the darkness, he laughed softly.
The laugh was scarcely more than an echo — yet it was a mysterious laugh — the laugh of The Shadow!
The limousine was awaiting its passenger. Otto stood beside it on the curb.
Clifford Gage reached in his pocket. He withdrew the black disk which he found there. He smiled grimly as he studied the small token of The Black Master.
"Threats," he murmured. "Threats against the life of Doctor Zerndorff. Threats — from whom?"
He dropped the black disk into a crevice beside the steps and his face gleamed with satisfaction as he watched it fall from view.
Then, with a strange, knowing smile on his face, Clifford Gage descended to the limousine. Otto saluted him in military fashion. Gage entered the car.
As the limousine rolled forward, he moved from the back seat and raised the cushion. He turned the ray of a flashlight into the space. There, in a coverless box, was the reflected surface of a polished brass bomb — the duplicate of the instrument of death that the police had found in the Financial Building.