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bullets. That thug was dead; hence, he couldn't talk. It seemed plain, though, that something had gone wrong before the police arrived. That made the law decide that rival crooks had tried to muscle into the Playboy's ill-timed game.

There were reports of flashes that had been seen from the windows of the loan office prior to the blasting of the safe. Those were attributed to tests with fuses, before the charge was set.

No investigators guessed that flash bulbs had been used for photographs; that the whole episode of the Masked Playboy was a frame-up. That knowledge belonged in one lone personage, who had been an eyewitness; namely The Shadow.

From his personal observation, The Shadow knew that blackmail was the motive behind the game. To prove that case was a more difficult proposition.

The identity of the Masked Playboy was a riddle. The Shadow correctly sized him as a dupe; probably a young man of good social status, fallen in with

bad companions. That helped little.

There were probably a few thousand such young men in New York. Any one of them might be eligible for the part of the Playboy.

Similarly, it was a hazy problem to identify the crook who had actually led the invading crew.

The Shadow classed him as a small-time mobleader; and the underworld was full of such ugly characters. Recently, New York had undergone a clean-up, wherein a special prosecutor had smashed a wide-spread racket ring. Lots of little fish had slipped through the mesh, but they were big enough to be leaders of hoodlum crews.

Last came the mobbies themselves. There, again, The Shadow drew a blank.

The actual thugs had been recruited from here and there, through an endless chain wherein each knew only a few others and none was acquainted with the persons higher up.

The Shadow had personal knowledge of that situation, for he had posed as one who was "in the know." That was how he had managed to receive the hand-stamped message down at Chatham Square.

The man who had passed the match pack to The Shadow was merely a messenger, slipping partial information to anyone who gave him the password.

By

mentioning a "hand," The Shadow had become one of the recipients.

From that incident, however, The Shadow gained a link with the past. He knew the meaning of the crudely stamped hand symbol. It went back to conditions

that had existed many months ago, during the clean-up of the so-called "racket ring."

There hadn't been a single racket ring; there had been several. All had learned the advantages of cooperation, shaking money from prosperous businesses. New York had been a land of plenty for the racketeers. Expecting trouble from the law, they had avoided strife among themselves. In fact, their organizations had reached an interlocking stage, even to the point where they had "fixers" and other peacemakers, who had kept everybody satisfied and happy.

Eventually perhaps, gang wars would have come; but the law hadn't let it get that far.

Rackets had been shattered right and left, with The Shadow and his agents playing an active but hidden part in the clean-up. Prominent racketeers had been brought to trial; to be rapidly convicted and sentenced. The public thought that those men had been the brains of the racket ring. That was true; but only in part.

For every big-shot who had found the interior of a prison cell, there had been three or four who had fled from New York before crime's citadel crumbled.

The Shadow had not forgotten those who had vanished. Seated in the corner of his sanctum, The Shadow was at work beneath the bluish light. From a stack of files he drew one that was stamped with an appropriate symboclass="underline" human hand, with extended thumb and fingers.

This was a case-book dealing with one group of racketeers who had teamed together, with double result. Not only had they made their profit while rackets

were going strong; every member of the group had cleared New York before the clean-up.

Where they were, what each was doing, were matters that concerned The Shadow. That was why he laid a stack of recent reports close at hand, where he could refer to data as required.

Upon a sheet of paper, The Shadow inscribed five names:

"Thumb" Gaudrey

"Pointer" Trame

"Long-Steve" Bydle

"Ring" Brescott

"Pinkey" Findlen

One by one, The Shadow checked the list. Gaudrey was in Bermuda posing as a retired business magnate seeking a rest cure. Trame had headed for Havana to gamble some of his ill-gotten gains at the casino. Bydle had actually gone into

business, in Chicago.

Brescott had made a trip to California, probably to test some racketeering

enterprise; but without result. Latest reports stated that he would soon be coming East.

One man alone was unaccounted for. He was Pinkey Findlen, the last crook on the list.

The Shadow laid the sheet aside. He began to visualize recent crime in terms of Pinkey Findlen. It was plain that the pack had become lone wolves; that each was dangerous in his own right. Of the five, Pinkey was the first to start an individual enterprise. Therefore, The Shadow had to deal with him alone.

Pinkey knew rackets, thoroughly. Therefore, he certainly recognized that the usual sort of racket would be hopeless in New York, at present. Rackets depended upon numerous small collections from many harassed business men. They required too many collectors, all weak links in the chain.

So Pinkey had simply reversed the procedure. Instead of building up many small profits, he was working to gain a few large sums. That meant contacts that Pinkey could handle personally, with enough precautions to prevent leaks.

He needed his strong-arm men; but he wasn't using them as collectors.

Their job was to frame dupes like the Masked Playboy, thus giving Pinkey opportunity for big-time blackmail on a high pressure basis.

UPON the table came clippings: past reports of the Masked Playboy. The Shadow's laugh was audible beyond the bluish light. He was studying the past crimes attributed to the Playboy. They had simply been build-ups to the final one.

Whether the Playboy had been shoved into those crimes, or whether someone had impersonated him, did not matter to The Shadow. He was interested in the crimes themselves; and among the list of pitiful raids, he saw one that stood out strongly.

That robbery had been committed at a place called the Bubble Club. The Masked Playboy had marched in upon Claude Ondrey, owner of the night club trapping him in his own office. Ondrey had passed over some cash; he provided the police with an elaborate report of the episode.

From The Shadow's viewpoint, Ondrey had talked too much. That happened to be a habit with Claude Ondrey.

When the police had cracked the night club racket, during the big clean-up, Ondrey had been one of the most talkative informants. As a victim of the racket, he had paid many visits to the special prosecutor's office.

The Shadow had records of Ondrey's testimony. Oddly, with all his talk, Ondrey had provided nothing new. He simply corroborated statements that other victims had given before him.

That marked Ondrey for what he was. The Shadow had him labeled as a man leagued with crooks. For everything that Ondrey told the prosecutor, he brought

back valuable facts for the big shots who ruled him.

Claude Ondrey could be blamed for the fact that five big men of crime had left New York before the prosecutor was ready to order their arrests. The law had missed that fact, but The Shadow hadn't.

From the past, The Shadow had his key to the present. Pinkey Findlen, back

in New York, was employing the human tools that he had used before. Claude Ondrey was one of them; and his Bubble Club was also valuable. It was one place

that Pinkey Findlen could use as a headquarters, when he wanted.

But Pinkey hadn't been there the night when the Masked Playboy had visited