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“That fellow that went to the chair — Silk Elverton — he was in it. I’m telling you, we’re in on the biggest chance we’ve ever had. We’re going to land the smartest bunch you’ve ever met. We’re going to bust the neatest queer-coin scheme you’ve ever heard of. I got enough just now to let me see it all. My eyes are open.”

The other men were on their feet. They were plying eager questions. Vic Marquette shook his head. He would tell more when they were on the way — not until then.

BACK in Foulkrod Kendall’s room, The Shadow was still seated at the desk. From Kendall’s own home, he had given the tipoff which Vic Marquette had been hoping to receive. A band of secret-service men would soon be on the way, to meet — whom? A crowd of crooks without a leader.

Foulkrod Kendall — Doctor Conrad Guyon — Tim Mecke — not one of those three could organize a stern resistance. They would fight, but they lacked the skill of leadership in conflict. If Silk Elverton were still alive, the case would be different.

The eyes of The Shadow gleamed, as though visualizing the features of the electrocuted crook. Then, from The Shadow’s lips came a whispered laugh. Weird, uncanny tones, they heralded incredible thoughts.

Silk Elverton! The visualization of that man as a living factor in impending crime had brought tremendous realization to The Shadow’s brain. He — to whom the impossible was possible — had divined the existence of amazing circumstances!

Men of crime would not lack a leader tonight! They would have one — the unknown man whom Foulkrod Kendall had mentioned over the telephone to Tim Mecke. From his own message to Vic Marquette, from the train of deduction that his own words had begun, The Shadow had divined the unbelievable truth!

His master mind had accepted the strangest of all possibilities — that Doctor Conrad Guyon, physician extraordinary, had raised Silk Elverton from the dead!

Guyon’s part had seemed a passive one; The Shadow now knew that it had masked the doctor’s real activity.

Blackness swished through blackness. The Shadow’s form moved toward the door. It stopped. Keen ears heard Foulkrod Kendall’s step upon the stairs. The millionaire was leaving for the factory.

The Shadow waited until the closing of the front door was audible. Then, through the silent living room, the black-clad master followed the course that Kendall had taken. His form merged with darkness.

Men of crime would still be potent on this fateful night. Vic Marquette and his fellow operatives were taking on a task that would give them desperate trouble. Grim work lay ahead of The Shadow.

The master of darkness was on the trail of new adventure!

CHAPTER XXII

FIENDS AT BAY

FOULKROD KENDALL entered his private office. He turned on the light. Chuckles greeted his action. The millionaire stepped back in consternation, then grinned weakly. Seated in the office were Doctor Conrad Guyon and Silk Elverton.

“Thought you’d be here early,” said the smooth crook. “So we came ahead. Where’s Tim and the others?”

“In the experimental room,” returned Kendall.

“Let’s go in,” suggested Silk, “They won’t mind our coming early. They’ll be glad to see me. Say, Doc” — the crook turned to Guyon — “what about Harper?”

“Harper is all right,” returned Guyon firmly. “He, like ourselves, is a crook. We will discuss him when we talk tonight. It might be well to let him in our circle.”

“He’s outside in the car now,” explained Silk.

“Near here?” questioned Kendall anxiously.

“No,” answered Silk. “Not near enough to know what’s going on. He’s parked off at the side of the road. Lights out. A hundred yards away.”

The three men left the office, and went into the corridor that led to the silver rooms. Kendall was amazed at Silk Elverton’s complete recovery from his trip to the electric chair. Silk seemed more alert than ever.

The trio reached their destination. Behind the closed doors, Silk Elverton exchanged warm greeting with Tim Mecke and the two counterfeiters.

Barbier and Cumo were standing by the machine, ready to operate it. In bins throughout the room were stocks of counterfeited coins. The silver scourge was ready to be loosed — the accumulated funds of imitation money had reached huge proportions.

“Got your gun, Tim?”

It was Silk Elverton who put the question.

TIM MECKE grinned and tapped the holster at his side. The gangster, in his capacity as guardian of the armored car, always carried the weapon fully loaded.

“How about you fellows?”

Silk was questioning the counterfeiters. Barbier and Cumo shook their heads.

“Get them,” ordered Silk. “Say — you never know what’s liable to turn up in a place like this.”

Tony Cumo produced two revolvers from a drawer. He gave one to Cyrus Barbier.

“You’ve got a gun?” questioned Silk, turning to Foulkrod Kendall.

The millionaire nodded in reply.

“That’s good,” asserted Silk. “I made doc carry one tonight. He gave one to Harper, too; and I’m packing a pair of .38s. Lost my short revolver after I killed that fool detective, but I can use these if I need them. You never can tell what’s going to happen.”

The crooks engaged in friendly discussion which lasted for more than fifteen minutes. Then Cyrus Barbier went to the machine, and Tony Cumo prepared to feed the stamper. Tim Mecke started toward the door.

“Where you going?” demanded Silk.

“Out to the truck,” answered Tim. “I’ll be back.”

“Yeah?” queried Silk. “Well, when you go out of here, have that gat of yours ready. See? And you, Tony — show some brains. Walk away from the machine — cover up in back of him. You don’t know who’s liable to be outside. Go ahead, Barbier; start the works while I show these fellows how to use their heads.”

Kendall and Guyon exchanged knowing nods as they witnessed Silk Elverton’s precautions. Instinctively, both men placed a hand upon a revolver barrel.

SILK ELVERTON’S advice was more timely than even the smooth crook realized. As Silk was giving these orders, another man was giving instructions beyond the barriers that guarded these rooms. Vic Marquette and his band of men had entered. They were stationed along the sides of the corridor, covering the door through which Tim Mecke was about to come.

Vic’s low voice was audible to all. The leader of the secret-service squad was giving sound advice.

“Don’t ease up one minute,” said Vic. “Sooner or later, that door is going to open. When it does, we rush it.”

All eyes were toward the door. Vic noticed this and ordered one man to watch back along the corridor toward Kendall’s office. The man obeyed. He saw blackness, but he did not observe the form that stood therein. The Shadow was watching from the dark.

Suddenly, the door of the experimental room swung open. Tim Mecke, his revolver half drawn from its holster, stepped into the corridor. In a twinkling, the gangster caught the flash of revolvers. He drew his own gun as he leaped backward. Vic Marquette boomed the first signal of the attack. Tim staggered.

The secret-service operatives sprang forward before the wounded gangster could manage to close the door. Tim raised his gun to shoot as he tried to gain the safety of the inner door. Two shots from the raiders felled him. Vic Marquette smashed against the inner door. The portal flew open, striking Tony Cumo, who was just about to bolt it.

The raiders stopped just within the door. Silk Elverton, quick to see the situation, had his gun unlimbered. Foulkrod Kendall and Conrad Guyon were drawing their weapons, as they leaped for cover. Cyrus Barbier darted behind the running machine.