BLACKMAIL BAY
                                 by Walter B. Gibson

        As originally published in "The Duende History of The Shadow Magazine,"
1980.


    I

     UNDER the gleam of a bluish light, the chart depicting Cobosco Bay stood
out in vivid detail. Jutting in from the lower left corner was a promontory
that marked the fishing village of Gosport, a stopping place for the
old-fashioned double-decked steamers that still plied the bay, as indicated by
a dotted line continuing northward. That line veered to the westward to avoid
the Twins, two tiny isles that stood side by side, with a narrow channel in
between; then the dotted line took a curve toward the northeast as it
approached Spruce Island, the biggest thing on the map, which was portrayed in
full topographic detail.
     Stretching from the southwest to the northeast, Spruce Island began with
Hiram's Head, a dome-shaped bluff which, judging from the numerous contour
lines, probably loomed to considerable proportions. It bore a distinct
resemblance to a monstrous head, due to a deep indentation to the right, which
was marked as Hiram's Cove. Continuing almost due east, the shoreline showed a
steamboat landing, indicated by the dotted line and half a dozen tiny blocks
that represented buildings. From there, the shore wangled to the northeast, to
terminate in a narrow strip of land called Beacon Neck, which led to an oddly
formed mark that represented Beacon Light, an old lighthouse at the very tip
of
the island.
     The dotted steamship route ended at the central landing, making it the
key
factor of the map. As proof of that, a long, thin hand moved into the bluish
glow and placed a pointed forefinger on that very spot. It was a left hand, as
evidenced by a gem that sparkled from the third finger with its scintillating
rays running the gamut from deep crimson to brilliant purple, vivified by
flashes of flame that burst into being as though attracted by the
all-pervading
blue light. This was The Shadow's girasol, one of the unmatched fire-opals
that
symbolized his ability to conquer crime by dulling the brains of its would-be
perpetrators.
     Right now, crime was afoot on Spruce Island. The Shadow's fingers were
already stalking it, as they moved westward from the landing along the
island's
only well-marked road that moved inland as it approached Hiram's Cove. There,
the Shadow paused to note a short turn-in that led up to a house on the cove;
then he continued along the main road, which skirted the cove itself, until it
ran directly into Hiram's Head where the bristling contours forced the road to
jog sharply to the right and wend northward until the west shore of the island
moved in gradually to meet it on a contour marked by a building on a spot
called Moffat's Point.
     Due west from the Point was Round Island, with a few contours and
indentations, plus a sprinkling of buildings that gave it the appearance of a
summer resort, though it had no steamboat service. After studying Round
Island,
The Shadow reverted to Spruce Island, but only briefly enough to note that it
had a few irregular back roads, stemming chiefly from the landing which led to
buildings that were obviously summer cottages.
     The left hand rolled the chart into a cylinder, revealing the surface of
a
polished table, which vanished as the right hand clicked off the bluish glare
and plunged the room into absolute blackness, stirred only by a whispered
laugh. This was The Shadow's sanctum, the secret headquarters where he planned
his campaigns against crime. As proof, a pinpoint of yellow light appeared
suddenly amid the Stygian surroundings and a quiet voice came from an unseen
amplifier:
     "Burbank speaking."
     It was the Shadow's contact man, responding to an automatic flash. In
return, The Shadow spoke:
     "Instructions to Burke. He is to proceed with feature stories covering
vacation areas, as accepted by the New York 'Classic'. First assignment:
Cobosco Bay. Await further details."
     "Instructions received."
     "Instructions to Vincent." Again, The Shadow spoke in a subdued, sibilant
tone. "He is to confirm the rental of a cabin on Round Island at off-season
rates and proceed there immediately."
     "Instructions received."
     "Instructions completed," came The Shadow's final tone. "Switch to
outside
wire."


     THERE was a click in the darkness. A luminous phone dial showed on the
sanctum table. Swiftly, The Shadow's forefinger dialled a number and a girl's
voice responded, "Hello."
     "Hello, Margo." The response was no longer The Shadow's but a quiet, easy
tone that the girl immediately recognized. "About that trip you are taking
tomorrow -"
     "I'm already packed," replied Margo, "but please, Lamont, tell me where -
and why -"
     In the same calm tone, The Shadow detailed:
     "You will go to Baxter Harbor on the Maine Coast and take the noon boat
on
the Cobosco Bay Line to Spruce Island. At the general store, you will pick up
a
reservation for a week's stay at the old hotel on Moffat Point -"
     "In whose name will the reservation be?"
     "In your name, Margo Lane. A local taxi driver will take you to the
Moffat
House and back to the home of Judge Parker Kroft, on Hiram's Cove. There, you
will introduce yourself -"
     "As a friend of our mutual friend, Lamont Cranston -"
     Margo's quick interruption brought an even-toned chuckle from Cranston.
It
carried a touch of The Shadow's subtle mirth that Margo failed to catch. Then
came Cranston's response:
     "Definitely, no. I've never even met Judge Kroft. The man who wants you
to
meet him is our mutual friend, Commissioner Ralph Weston. Judge Kroft will
explain the rest."
     There was a pause, the type that signified that there was more to follow.
Margo broke it with an abrupt query:
     "Anything else, Lamont?"
     "Yes," came Cranston's chuckle. "When you reach the lookout, look out."
     A click of the receiver told Margo that the call was over.


    II
      THE bayliner 'Priscilla' was an antiquated wooden steamer that had long
ago been converted to Diesel power, but still moved in plodding style as it
ploughed its way from Baxter Harbor toward Cobosco Bay. From the high upper
deck abaft the pilot house, Margo Lane watched small craft with sails and
outboard motors scud from the bayliner's course until the 'Priscilla' had the
whole bay to herself. Half an hour of steady plodding brought her to the end
of
a rocky promontory where some fishing sloops were gathering about a pier with
a
weather-beaten sign that said: GOSPORT.
      The few houses looked as dilapidated as the pier itself, though, farther
back, the roofs of some cottages showed among the pine woods. The 'Priscilla'
unloaded some crates and boxes but only one passenger came on board, a tall,
lanky man carrying a brief case and, as the 'Priscilla' got under way, he
bobbed up through the companionway from the lower deck and gave a cheery
"Hello" to the half-dozen passengers. Everybody returned the greeting except
Margo and, noting her silence, the man gave an apologetic smile, saying, "I
guess we haven't met before, young lady. My name is Lew Barton."
      "And mine," rejoined Margo, "is Margo Lane. This happens to be my first
trip to Spruce Island."
      "I thought so." With a long-jawed smile, the man handed Margo a card that
bore the name: LEWIS G. BARTON - INSURANCE. Then, whimsically, he added: "You
see, it's my business to know everybody on Spruce Island, particularly when
they buy property there."
      "But I'm only staying for a week -"
      "Good enough for a start," decided Barton. "Let's go forward, so I can
show you the sights as we come to them."
      The 'Priscilla' was heading straight for what Margo mistook for a small
island until she saw a split in the center.
      "Why, it's two islands!" she exclaimed. "And we're going right between
them!"
      "They are the Twins," explained Barton, "but usually we swing around
them.
Right now, it's high tide, which gives us another fifteen feet of water,
enough
for the 'Priscilla' to make it."
      They made it nicely enough, though the sides of the wide-built steamer
almost scraped the alders on the banks. Then, Margo gave another gasp as she
looked ahead and saw a massive bulk of rock and thick trees looming out of the
bay to a height of a hundred feet or more.
      "Hiram's Head," identified Barton, "don't try climbing that, Miss Lane,
while you're staying on Spruce Island. Unless you get a good hold on a tree,
you may slide down into the bay."
      As the boat followed the shore, Barton pointed out Hiram's Cove and Margo
was enthralled by the brilliant sheen of the sparkling blue water. Well back
in
the cove was a large float with a long gangplank stretching to the foot of
some
steep steps leading to an attractive ranch house perched on a ledge. It struck
Margo that this could be the home of Judge Kroft, but she ignored that fact as
she exclaimed: "What a beautiful setting! Imagine, having friends come in and
out, in their own speed-boats, at any hour of the day or night!"
      "You'd have to imagine it at low tide," laughed Barton, "because when the
tide goes out, coves like this one become mud flats and so does most of the
shore. So half the time, you wouldn't have enough water to dive in and, as for
swimming, the water is too cold this late in the season."
      That put a chill on Margo's enthusiasm, but she smiled it off in a casual
way as the 'Priscilla' plodded along, arriving at a solid stone landing that
ran along the water's edge. There, Barton politely helped Margo down the
companionway to the lower deck, where a gangplank had been thrust down on to
the stone wharf. Barton insisted on carrying Margo's bags to the porch of a
large frame building which bore an imposing sign:

                                EARL TORGESEN
                                GENERAL STORE

     Outside the main door was a bulletin board decorated with a variety of
notices, small and large, some printed, others hand-written, all held in place
by handy push-pins. Barton gave the array a rapid glance as he remarked to
Margo: "This is Spruce Island's information center. People tell everybody else
what's going on, or leave messages for one another. There's nothing extra
special today, so let's go in and talk to Earl."


      THEY found Earl Torgesen seated on a high stool behind one of the store's
half-dozen counters. He was a stocky, stolid man who kept his arms folded as
he
nodded a routine greeting when Lew Barton introduced Margo Lane. Hearing the
name "Miss Lane," the store-keeper reached to a handy shelf and drew down two
notes, which he handed to Margo with the comment:
      "Hobbs brought these yesterday but didn't post them on the board because
he figured you wouldn't know to look there."
      One was a note from Judge Kroft, inviting Margo to lunch when she
arrived;
the other was signed by a woman named Madge Moffat, saying that Margo's room
at
the Moffat House was available and that supper would be ready whenever she
arrived there. Margo showed the notes to Barton, who commented:
      "Hobbs will take you to both places. He runs the local taxi, or jitney,
whichever you want to call it. He's outside now."
      Through the doorway, Margo saw a relic that looked like an old Model-A
with a slouchy man of the same vintage hovering alongside it. Five minutes
later, she was on her way to Kroft's, her bags in the trunk compartment where
Hobbs said they would be safe until he came to take her to the Moffat House,
later in the day. As Margo expected, Kroft's house was the one she had seen on
the cliff above the cove, but from this side it was reached by a narrow, rocky
path that zigzagged from the road up through a grove of birch trees.
      Judge Kroft met Margo at the doorway. He was an elderly, stoop-shouldered
man who leaned heavily on a stout cane, but he had keen eyes that peered from
a
face as smooth as parchment beneath a shaggy crop of whitish hair. His thin,
taut lips moved in a precise, mechanical fashion as he spoke in a crackly
tone,
but his manner was courtly as he conducted Margo to the veranda that
overlooked
the cove, where lunch was served by a middle-aged woman named Hulda. The judge
chatted casually during the meal but when Hulda had cleared the dishes, he
came
straight to the point.
      "I have a problem, Miss Lane," he stated, "which Commissioner Weston
thinks you might help me solve. I am preparing a book from confidential
discussions of important cases that I decided while I was an active judge.
They
were all carefully recorded, but I find that some of the key tapes are
missing."
      The judge's accent on the word "missing" prompted Margo to respond: "You
mean lost? Or stolen?"
      "An apt question," returned the judge, approvingly. "I mean stolen,
because I have received anonymous phone calls from a blackmailer who offers to
return them for fifty thousand dollars. Cash."
     Before Margo could reply to that, the judge went on:
     "This blackguard - correction, I should say blackmailer - is apparently
well acquainted with Spruce Island, but we have no other link to him. So the
commissioner suggests that I have you listen to my remaining tapes and list
the
names of persons mentioned on them, as that may give a clue to the miscreant
involved."
     With that, Judge Kroft led the way into a miniature law library, where
buckram-bound books lined the walls. He gave Margo a corner table with a tape
player, a stack of recorded tapes, some legal pads and a portable typewriter,
so she could go right to work.
     "As you list each name," the judge suggested, "make notes of any special
comments that you hear; then skip along until you come to another name and do
the same. I shall let you know when Hobbs arrives to take you up to the Moffat
House."


    III

      IT was after seven o'clock when Hobbs came with his antique jitney. Dusk
was settling over Hiram's Cove as he and Margo wheezed past it along the road
to Moffat's Point. Straight ahead loomed Hiram's Head, its bulk obviously
responsible for the thickening gloom, because as soon as they took the sharp
turn toward the right, Cobosco Bay came into sight, glistening in the
varicolored glow of a lingering sunset.
      By then, Hobbs had said but little, simply mentioning that Lew Barton had
gone back to Gosport on the 'Priscilla' when she left on her sunset trip to
Baxter Harbor. But now, Hobbs became effusive as he pointed across the bay to
a
chunk of land that was sprinkled with cottages and boat houses.
      "That there," stated Hobbs, "is Round Island, owned by a city fellow
named
Wilby Weldon, who rents out cottages and speed-boats to summer people who have
'most as much money as he has."
      Rattling further northward, the old car jounced over a rise in the road
and come in sight of a sprawly, three-story building partly surrounded by an
old-fashioned porch.
      "And this here," continued Hobbs, "is the Moffat House, right plumb on
Moffat Point. Owned by Madge Moffat, the last of the family; and there she is,
waiting on the piazza. She must have heard us acoming."
      Madge Moffat was a brisk, athletic type of woman who welcomed Margo in a
deep-toned voice while Hobbs was unloading the bags from the car trunk. About
then, a keen-eyed, bearded man arose from a porch chair and sauntered up to
join them.
      "This is Lester Blake," introduced Madge Moffat. "He is an artist who
stays here during the off-season and paints seascapes. Now that you are here,
Miss Lane, we will have supper."
      During the meal, Margo admired paintings that were hanging on the dining
room wall and learned they were samples of Blake's work. All portrayed the bay
and its islands; and Madge Moffat bought them from Blake to sell to guests
during the regular season. After supper, Blake carried Margo's bags up a side
stairway to a corner room on the second floor, while Miss Madge come along to
see that all was in order.
      "I've given you the Lookout Room," Madge told Margo. "This was where they
watched for boats coming into the bay."
      Hardly was Margo alone before a sudden recollection struck her. Clear as
a
bell, she recalled Cranston's parting words: "When you reach the lookout, look
out." This room was the Lookout! But what did the rest of Lamont's cryptic
statement mean? Was it a warning to look out for danger here? As Margo mulled
over that, her mind went back to Madge's parting statement that this was where
they watched for boats coming into the bay. Acting on that, Margo turned out
the kerosene lamp that illuminated the Lookout Room and proceeded to look out
across the bay.
     It was completely dark by now, except for a thin crescent moon that
showed
through fleeting clouds, but from the blackness of the bay a semicircle of
glimmering lights marked the shore line of Round Island with its cottages and
boat houses. As Margo watched, a spot of green light gave two short blinks;
and
that was all she needed. Groping in a suitcase, Margo brought out a small but
powerful flashlight and affixed a transparent green cap over its lens. With
it,
she flashed two answering blinks from her window.
     Two green flashes responded from Round Island. After a short interval, a
plain yellow light began a series of dots and dashes. Coming in a secret code
that Margo understood, they spelled a single word: M-I-D-N-I-G-H-T. In
response, Margo gave two green blinks to signify that she understood; then,
with a few hours to go, she lighted the table lamp and began going over notes
she had brought from Kroft's, while keeping an occasional eye on her wrist
watch.


     AS midnight neared, Margo turned out the light, opened the door and
listened to make sure that all was silent in Moffat House. Then, putting on a
dark raincoat and a pair of black sneakers, she stole softly down the side
stairs and out through the door to a pair of steps at the end of the piazza.
From there, she made her way to the shore where an old rickety pier jutted out
into the bay, which was studded with white crests of wavelets that showed in
the midnight blackness. Reaching the shore line, she realized immediately why
midnight had been chosen as the meeting time.
     It had been almost high tide when the 'Priscilla' had left Baxter Harbor
at noon for its forty minute trip to Spruce Island. Now, just twelve hours
later, the tide was reaching high again. Only a thin stretch of sand remained
between the incoming wavelets and the shore. This meant that a boat, instead
of
docking far out on the gangling pier to avoid the mud flats, could ride
completely over them - even to the very shore line - provided it had a flat
bottom.
     As if in proof of Margo's theory, two green blinks came from beneath the
shore end of the pier and Margo made out the shape of a broad-beamed rubber
boat, its sides bulging with inflated air compartments. It had two occupants.
As Margo flicked an answer with her own flashlight, one man stepped from the
boat and approached with the quiet, recognizable greeting: "Hello, Margo."
     It was Lamont Cranston.
     Soon, Margo was seated beside him beneath the sheltering pier, going over
details of what she had learned so far. She told Lamont about her talk with
Lew
Barton, the insurance man; her brief meeting with Earl Torgesen, the
store-keeper; and with Ezra Hobbs, the jitney driver; as well as Madge Moffat
and her artist friend, Lester Blake. By then, they had to move closer to the
shore end of the pier, as the tide, still rising, was licking at their feet
while Margo began to tell about the work she was doing for Judge Kroft, a
subject that Cranston dismissed almost immediately.
     "Checking the tapes was Weston's idea," said Cranston, "but it will take
too long. I'll contact the judge tomorrow and suggest plans for immediate
results that are already pending."
     Cranston paused as a smooth, rhythmic purr came from well out in the bay
and the lights of a swift speedboat shot across the open water between Moffat
Point and Round Island.
     "That's Wilby Weldon, who owns the resort on Round Island," commented
Cranston. "He cruises around at night to make sure the channel markers and
other devices are all in working order. I'm staying at a cabin that Vincent
rented from him."
     That ended the discussion, but Cranston remained close by while Margo
headed back to the Moffat House. From her window, she blinked a signal that
meant "All's well," and fancied that she saw the rubber boat drifting out on
the receding tide, but whether it had two passengers or just one, she could
only guess.
     Perhaps Lamont Cranston had remained - as The Shadow!


    IV

     BREAKFAST was late the next morning. During the meal, Hobbs arrived with
an urgent message from Judge Kroft, asking for Margo to come to his place as
soon as possible and to stay there over the next night because of important
work. Realizing that Kroft must have heard from Cranston, Margo went to her
room and was packed by the time Hobbs and Blake came up to get her bags. On
the
way downstairs, Blake told Hobbs:
     "I'd better go in with you, Ezra, as I have to buy a lot of art materials
and hiking boots, so I can climb Hiram's Head and do some sketching this
afternoon."
     "You'll have to come back before the 'Priscilla' docks at one o'clock,"
returned Hobbs, "because there's a mechanic coming out from Baxter Harbor with
new parts for my old car, so there won't be any taxi service after he gets
here; not until late tonight."
     Madge Moffat overheard that and put up a protest:
     "But I'm expecting a package from Boston! It will be left in my name at
the general store -"
     "And I'll tell Earl Torgesen about it," soothed Hobbs. "You know how
accommodating he is, Miss Madge. After he closes the store, he'll bring it up
here on his bicycle. He needs the exercise."
     "Good enough," agreed Madge. Turning to Blake, she added: "You remind
Earl, too. And there's my shopping list for the weekend supplies. Bring them
along when you come back with Ezra."
     During the ride in past Hiram's Head, Hobbs and Blake talked about the
problems of Spruce Island, which were chiefly lack of communication. Since the
telephone connection came by cable directly from the mainland, the cost of a
private line was so prohibitive that there were only two telephones on the
island; one at the general store and the other at Judge Kroft's. In contrast,
Margo learned, Round Island had a private phone in every cottage and boat
house. That proved that it would be easy for Cranston to contact Judge Kroft.
     After passing Hiram's Cove, Hobbs stopped at Kroft's to let Margo off and
again, he and Blake obligingly carried her bags for her. They left while Kroft
was greeting Margo, but hardly had the old car jounced away before the judge
snapped his fingers in annoyance.
     "I wanted you to go down to the landing with them!" he exclaimed. Then,
shaking his head, he added: "But, no! It's not far, so it's better you should
walk down there a little later. I'll show you why."
     Conducting Margo into the little library, he picked up a square of paper
on which he had inked the following words:

    EAGER
    GRADER
    VERY IDLE
    TURNER
    PASTE
    KATE
    CRUEL

     Studying the column, Margo remarked: "It looks like some sort of a
puzzle."
     "Exactly," agreed the judge, "But it is also a unique code, consisting
entirely of anagrams. Rearrange the letters line by line and it will read like
this." On a pad, he wrote:

    AGREE REGARD DELIVERY.
    RETURN TAPES. TAKE LUCRE.

     "The anonymous caller instructed me to concoct such a message," the judge
continued. "This is the last day for a reply; otherwise, new negotiations will
be necessary. Today, I heard from a friend of Commissioner Weston who
suggested
I go through with it."
     Knowing that the friend was Cranston, Margo remarked that the judge
seemed
to be handling the situation neatly.
     "Rather so," he nodded, "though I had trouble finding an anagram for
'money' so I had to use 'lucre' instead. I hope whoever reads it will know
that
'cruel' means that I will pay fifty thousand dollars for delivery of the
tapes."
     "You really mean to pay it?"
     "That, we shall see." Judge Kroft tightened his already taut lips. "But
you must get this message to its appointed destination around noon. That is
why
I had Hobbs bring you here early."
     "But - but where - I mean how can I manage it?"
     "Very simply." The judge crackled a mild laugh. "It is only a short walk
to the general store. Just see that it is posted on the bulletin board where
anyone on Spruce Island can read it."
     The judge handed the cryptic message to Margo, who was duly impressed by
the terms demanded by the anonymous caller, inasmuch as it gave the unknown
blackmailer ample opportunity to read it without running the risk of
recognition. That was, except for one flaw.
     "If I should stay around the store awhile," suggested Margo, "I might
notice people who are interested in the message -"
     "And you wouldn't have to wait too long," injected Kroft. "The
commissioner's friend seemed sure that others might be waiting."


     THE clock in the general store showed quarter past twelve when Margo
arrived there and found Lester Blake still shopping with Ezra Hobbs hovering
uneasily in the offing. Seeing Earl Torgesen behind his usual counter, Margo
ignored the others and told the proprietor:
     "Judge Kroft would like this posted on the bulletin board. Would you mind
putting it there?"
     Torgesen spread both arms with a heavy-shouldered shrug.
     "No, no," he said indulgently. "People post their own notices. They've
done it long before I took over the store a year ago, so they're free to go
right ahead. But if you want to ask Hobbs" - he gestured politely with his
hand
- "I'm sure he would post it for you."
     "Certainly, Miss Lane," agreed Hobbs, taking the sheet from Margo.
Turning
to Blake he added: "We'd better start soon."
     Blake finished his shopping while Hobbs was posting the coded message.
Chatting with Margo on the way out, Blake remarked:
     "That reminds me! Miss Madge always has me take note of anything special
on the board." Turning over his bundles to Hobbs, Blake made a notation on a
pad, stopping, a bit puzzled, when he came to Kroft's cryptic notice; then
writing it down in detail. Hobbs began honking the jitney's horn, so Blake
hurried over and they took off together. That gave Margo a chance to stroll
the
waterfront, keeping a casual eye on the few customers who went in and out of
the
store. All seemed already familiar with the board, for none looked at it.
     Margo was still strolling when Hobbs came back in his jalopy, just in
time
to meet the 'Priscilla' as she loomed up beside the wharf on the dot of 12:45.
As passengers came from the lower deck, Hobbs shook hands with the man who was
obviously the mechanic he expected, but Margo was more interested to see Lew
Barton come ashore. He was chatting with a man she recognized as Clyde Burke,
who represented the New York 'Classic'. Margo kept a straight face while
Barton
introduced Clyde as a feature writer who was doing a story about Cobosco Bay,
because she knew that from now on, Clyde would take over and keep tabs on
people who stopped too long at the bulletin board, even interviewing them to
get their names and opinions regarding Cobosco Bay and Spruce Island.
     While Margo was being interviewed by Clyde, Barton went over and spent a
long time studying the notices on the bulletin board, a point that Margo
undertoned to Clyde, who responded with a nod. Then Margo strolled away and
increased her gait to a brisk walk until she reached Kroft's and found the
judge waiting to have lunch with her on the veranda. After lunch, she resumed
work in the library, checking the available tape for clues to those that were
missing - or stolen.
     Down by the landing, things were going not only as Margo hoped, but even
better. All afternoon, Clyde Burke had been checking on all patrons of the
general store, going and coming, by playing the part of what he really was: an
inquiring reporter, no more and no less. That fact was proven late in the
afternoon, when the 'Priscilla' was ready for her six o'clock sunset trip back
to Baxter Harbor. Just then, a speed-boat pulled in below some steep steps
beside the wharf and two men clambered their way up to the top.
     One was a big, bluff character, who looked like he either owned
everything
in sight, or could buy it, which was true in this case. He was Wilby Weldon,
who
owned Round Island outright and could easily buy Spruce Island for half the
price. The other was Harry Vincent, a personable chap who, like Clyde Burke,
was an agent of The Shadow.
     As Clyde stepped up and asked Weldon for an interview, he was shoved
roughly aside in the very manner he expected from such a character. So Clyde
settled for Harry Vincent and both smiled as they watched Weldon stride over
to
the general store.
     "What's His Nibs after now?" asked Clyde.
     "Some special tobacco that they sell here," replied Harry. "You know how
pipe smokers go for exclusive blends."
     "He's lost his impetus," rejoined Clyde, "considering how he's stopped to
read those notices on the bulletin board."
     A clang of bells from the 'Priscilla' interrupted the conversation and
Clyde hurried over to join Lew Barton, who was beckoning for him to come on
board. All that was visible of the 'Priscilla' was her smokestack poking above
the wharf, for the tide was approaching its very lowest. Harry watched the two
passengers go aboard a gangplank that led downward from the wharf to the
bayliner's upper deck. Then, with another clang of bells and the blare of a
whistle, the 'Priscilla' was on her way to Gosport.
     Wilby Weldon was coming back with his precious tobacco to join Harry
Vincent; and Margo Lane was doubly right. Other agents of The Shadow had
covered the waterfront during her absence. Whatever was happening on Spruce
Island would be known to The Shadow!


    V

     DUSK was deepening over Hiram's Cove when Kroft and Margo had supper on
the veranda. The judge looked over the sizeable lists that had kept Margo busy
until after seven o'clock. Approvingly, Kroft remarked that when all the names
from the tapes had been fully checked, some would surely provide links to the
past, but their value would depend chiefly on what happened here tonight.
Looking up at the clouded, darkening sky, he added finally: "Come. It is time
we began our vigil."
     They went to the living room on the land side of the ranch house. When
they settled there, Margo was convinced that Kroft must have had a meeting
with
Cranston while she had been working in the library. The old judge displayed a
confidence that she herself had invariably felt when she knew that The Shadow
was somewhere in the offing. Even the slightest sound attracted his attention,
as though it represented a vital moment that he expected. Then Kroft's smooth
forehead suddenly wrinkled at the sound of a steady thumping from outside the
house.
     "That sounds like the old windmill pump that Hobbs was going to fix,"
declared Kroft. "But who could have started it - and how? Or why?"
     As the thumping continued, Kroft came to his feet and stepped to the back
door, beckoning Margo to join him. When he opened the door and stepped to the
rear porch, a voice came hoarsely from the dark: "Who's that! Who's there!" On
impulse, Kroft pressed a switch and floods of light came not only from the
house, but the surrounding trees as well. The circle of light carried almost
to
the pump-house; and there, on the fringe of the glare, stood Hobbs, holding a
large satchel in one hand, a double-barreled shotgun crooked over his other
forearm.
     That sight literally produced a chain reaction. An answering shout came
from the path leading up from the birch grove. As Hobbs dropped the satchel
and
raised the shotgun, he heard the call, "Hi, Ezra!" and recognized Torgesen,
who
was wheeling a bicycle up the path. Hobbs lowered the gun. The store-keeper
leaned the bicycle against a tree and approached with a wave of greeting, but
by then, Hobbs was aiming for another target farther down the path, a white,
roundish figure that flitted in ghostly fashion as though about to merge with
the birches.
     The effect was so startling that Margo could understand why Hobbs fired
on
impulse, but as he did, he floundered backward as if the recoil had acted
before
the shot, sending the gun blast straight upward. Margo looked just in time to
see a weird, cloaked figure merge with the blackness beyond the circling
light.
Apparently The Shadow's intervention had prevented a fatal shot, for the white
shape proved to be a human and not a ghost. Stepping forward from the birches
was Madge Moffat, wearing white slacks and jacket. But even as Hobbs
recognized
one mistake, he made another.
     Lurching forward from a level path through the pine trees that skirted
the
cove came a roughly clad man with a noticeable limp, evidently determined to
reach Hobbs before he could fire a second shot. Obviously, he hadn't seen The
Shadow's intervention, while Hobbs, jarred by that same action, was befuddled
enough to blame this new attacker. Up came the shotgun and again, The Shadow
swirled in from the gloom just in time to supply another upward jolt as the
second barrel loosed its load.
      That left Hobbs standing with an empty shotgun and staring puzzled at
another person whom he knew quite well: Lester Blake. By then, The Shadow had
again wheeled into darkness and Margo realized that the others had probably
been too far away to gain as good a glimpse as she had. The sole exception was
Judge Kroft, who was as close by as Margo and also probably aware of The
Shadow's presence. In any case, Kroft showed magnificent style, beckoning all
the persons toward the porch, as though holding court there. Turning first to
Hobbs, the Judge said drily:
      "Congratulations on your bad aim, Ezra. Now, may I ask the purpose of
your
surprise visit?"
      "You wanted the windmill pump fixed," replied Hobbs, "but I've been busy
working on my car. Tonight, I've got a mechanic working on it, so I brought
along my tools" - he gestured to the satchel - "and fixed the pump. I was
coming in to tell you."
      "Why did you bring your shotgun?"
      "In case I ran into a wildcat or some other varmint," rejoined Hobbs.
"Guess I just got confused, judge."
      Judge Kroft gave the case a gesture of dismissal. Then:
      "Glad to see you here, Earl," he said to Torgesen. "Just how did you
happen to stop by?"
      "I had a package to take to Miss Moffat's," returned the store-keeper,
pointing to a handlebar carrier on his bicycle. "I rode up there with it, but
nobody was home. So I decided to stop here coming back and see if Miss Lane
knew where Miss Moffat had gone."
      "And I," put in Miss Madge, without waiting for the judge to quiz her,
"thought maybe Earl forgot to bring the package, so I walked down to the store
by the old Indian trail, which is a lot shorter than by road. The store was
closed up tight, so then I walked up here thinking you could phone Earl and
wake him up."
      Judge Kroft turned to Lester Blake: "Next!"
      "I was up on top of Hiram's Head," explained Blake, "painting a long
range
view, when I realized it was getting dark below. I started down the back way
and
slid off a ledge." Showing his torn shirt sleeves and scratched arms, he
added:
"Got all chewed up by tree branches and lost my sketches. Hurt my knee, too,
so
I thought I'd better get to a phone and call a doctor."


     JUDGE KROFT nodded as though he accepted everybody's story; then invited
them all in for coffee. While Hulda was preparing it, Hobbs offered an abject
apology to both Madge Moffat and Lester Blake for his berserk behavior with
the
shotgun.
     "Around noon today," Hobbs said to Blake, "I drove you up to Moffat Point
and when we went past Hiram's Cove, I saw a speed-boat alongside the float. I
pointed it out to you, remember?"
     Blake nodded: "I remember."
     "It was gone when I came back to meet the 'Priscilla'," continued Hobbs,
"and I figured somebody might have dropped off and stayed around here. That's
one reason I came to fix the pump. I thought I might meet a prowler. That's
what I mistook you folks for. Prowlers."
     If that made sense for Hobbs, it made sense for Margo, too. Obviously,
Lamont Cranston had come to Kroft's and stayed there, letting Harry Vincent
take the speed-boat back to Round Island. That, in turn, explained The
Shadow's
present presence on the property.
     While Blake was phoning a doctor on the mainland, Torgesen left to ride
to
the store on his bicycle and find out if Hobbs' car had been sufficiently
repaired for Hobbs to take Madge and Lester up to Moffat Point. Twenty minutes
later, the mechanic arrived with the old relic in good working order and said
that Blake wanted them to stop at the store to pick up Miss Madge's package
from Boston, since she had gone to so much trouble over it. With Hobbs and the
mechanic in front, Margo got in back with the others, saying she would make a
few purchases and drop off at Kroft's on the way back.
     At the store, Torgesen gave Madge's package to Hobbs, who put it in the
trunk of his car; and while the storekeeper was waiting on Margo, he confided:
     "I'm glad you came along, Miss Lane. You remember what Hobbs said about
seeing a speed-boat down in Hiram's Cove around noon today? Well, I saw the
same thing along about seven o'clock."
     "You mean when you were riding your bicycle up to Moffat's Point?"
exclaimed Margo. Then, as Torgesen nodded, she questioned eagerly, "Have you
any idea whose boat it was?"
     Torgesen gave a rueful head-shake. Then:
     "Lew Barton has a speed-boat over in Gosport," he recalled. "He left on
the 'Priscilla' at six o'clock, so he would have plenty of time to return.
You'd make it in ten minutes in a speed-boat."
     "Was it still there when you came back?"
     "I'd guess so, but it was too dark for me to see. I wasted time getting
up
at the Point trying to scare up Miss Moffat, not knowing she was hiking down
along the trail." Torgesen paused. As an afterthought he remarked: "Then
there's that Wilby Weldon, who owns Round Island and came in yesterday for
special tobacco. He kites around at all hours in a speed-boat. He rents out
others, so there's no telling who might come traipsing into Hiram's Cove. You
ought to tell the judge."
     "I'll tell him tonight," agreed Margo. "I'll say you said to."
     Hobbs dropped Margo off at Kroft's on his way to Moffat's Point with Miss
Madge and Lester Blake. But it was Hulda, not Kroft, who met Margo at the door
to tell Margo that her room was ready and that the judge had turned in for the
night. So Margo turned over her bundles to Hulda and decided that Torgesen's
report could wait until morning. Looking out from her window, the night seemed
serene, regardless of the threat of prowlers.
     No wonder, since no matter what happened, The Shadow might already be in
the offing, prepared to take full charge!


    IV

     AT breakfast the next morning, Judge Kroft was busily writing a report of
all that had been said and done the evening before. That gave Margo her chance
to repeat what Torgesen had told her; and how his description of the
speed-boat
in the cove at dusk confirmed Hobbs statement regarding a similar craft that
he
had seen there around noontime or a bit later. Writing down all that Margo
said, the old judge announced: "I shall add this to the agenda."
     At one o'clock, Hulda came to the library and told Margo that lunch was
ready. When Margo reached the veranda, she heard the spurt of a motor from the
cove and looked below to see a speed-boat scooting out from the float.
Recognizing Harry Vincent at the helm, she looked toward the steps leading up
from the cove and saw Lamont Cranston almost at the top, with Judge Kroft
greeting him. Together, they came onto the veranda where Cranston gave Margo a
casual "Hello," remarking to Judge Kroft that they were both friends of
Commissioner Weston.
     During lunch Margo wondered if The Shadow had left late last night and
come back as Cranston today; or whether he had instructed Harry to come over
in
the speed-boat to account for his arrival.The impassive Mr. Cranston had a bag
that could account for The Shadow's cloak and equipment, but the question
itself remained unanswered. Margo promptly forgot it when Judge Kroft came to
his agenda, which proved to be complete in every detail, including Margo's
added report from Torgesen. Cranston's response was an approving nod. Then:
     "I am quite sure that I could name the blackmailer from the data as
given," stated Cranston coolly, "but our main aim is to catch the culprit in
the act. You would have accomplished that last night, Judge Kroft, if
everything had gone as planned, both by yourself and the blackmailer, but too
many people arrived unexpectedly upon the scene. So the only course is to set
up another such meeting."
     "But how," queried Kroft, "can that be arranged?"
     "Only by waiting until we hear from the culprit -"
     "And when will that be?"
     "At any time. Perhaps this very minute -"
     Cranston's words were suddenly interrupted by Hulda, who came rushing in
waving a sheet of paper that she gave to Judge Kroft.
     "I just picked up a coffee tray from last night!" exclaimed Hulda. "And I
found this underneath it!"
     Judge Kroft spread the sheet of paper on the table and revealed the
following inked lines:

     VARLET
     LOGAN
     HORSE
     ONE CAB
     IF YARD
     THING

     "From the blackmailer," decided Cranston, "who undoubtedly had it ready
to
leave here in case something prevented the meeting!"
      "And anybody in the group," declared Kroft, "could have left it here
after
I foolishly invited them in for coffee!"
      "Or somebody could have come up from the cove," insisted Margo, "left it,
and sneaked out again before you invited the other people to come inside."
      Rather than debate that question, Cranston decided:
      "Since this appears to be another anagram message, why not decode it and
see what the culprit has to say?"
      Tearing the sheets from the judge's pad, Cranston handed them around and
all three began transposing letters, with this result:

     TRAVEL ALONGSHORE.
     BEACON. FRIDAY NIGHT.

     "It's two miles along the shore to the causeway leading out to the old
Beacon Light," declared Kroft, "so that must be where the blackmailer wants to
meet me."
     "And today is Friday," specified Margo, "so we know when as well as why."
     "Which leaves the question of who should go," summed Cranston, "and how.
Suppose you finish listing those tapes, Margo, while Judge Kroft and I plan
the
campaign for tonight."
      SHORTLY after six o'clock, a sharp rap brought Margo to the library door.
She opened it to find stoop-shouldered Judge Kroft standing there, beaming a
very wise smile.
      "Hobbs is on his way here," said Kroft, "to take the two of us to Beacon
Point. Cranston will remain here to handle contacts by telephone. I will carry
the money bag" - he lifted a suitcase as he spoke - "and you will bring along
a
box lunch that Hulda has made up for us in case we have too long a wait."
      Fifteen minutes later, they were riding past the landing in Hobbs'
jalopy.
Since the 'Priscilla' had left on her six o'clock trip, the wharf was almost
deserted, with only a few late customers coming out of the general store.
Those
few stared, somewhat puzzled, as they saw the ancient taxi take the little
used
two-mile road along the shore to Beacon Light. The terrain was barren and the
wind had swept sand in from the narrow beach, beyond which Margo saw the broad
mud flats, a somber, almost ominous sight in contrast to the highly tinted
sunset. A blue sparkle off beyond the flats proved that the bay was still
there, despite the low tide.
      The causeway was a raised, stony road, too narrow for a car to take, but
providing a firm path across a solid, level strip straight to the old
lighthouse that loomed from a mound of rock at the far end. Alighting from the
jalopy quite spryly, the judge paid Hobbs a fee and told him to return around
midnight, an order which gave Margo a slight shudder for, with the settling
dusk, the surroundings were becoming spooky. Judge Kroft was wearing an
oversized yellow oilskin slicker draped around his shoulders, so as he led the
way over the narrow causeway, it was easy for Margo to follow. Again, she was
surprised at the agility he showed, particularly in the handling of his long,
heavy cane.
      When they reached the old lighthouse, the judge pulled open a shaky,
creaky door and Margo saw tables and benches on the stone floor. Old-fashioned
lanterns hung from the walls of a large, rounded room. The judge explained
that
the islanders occasionally held picnics in the place. Still in a spry mood, he
moved about, lighting enough of the lanterns to offset darkness, which was now
complete; and as an afterthought, he chortled: "Speaking of picnics, Miss
Lane,
let's open Hulda's box-lunch and have one of our own!"
      They did as suggested and after the repast, Kroft regaled Margo with
accounts of his legal career and legends of Cobosco Bay. As minutes turned to
hours, the judge seemed to grow younger, though at times his voice became
wheezy and he was forced to pause. Then, the only sound was the lapping of
waves from the slowly rising tide around the base of the lighthouse until
suddenly Kroft said: "Listen!"
      As he raised his hand for silence, the creaky door swung open with a
clatter and in from the threshold stepped a sinister figure heavily muffled in
baggy trousers and a thick sweater topped with a hunter's cap. A bandana
handkerchief served as a mask.
      The strange intruder clumped steadily forward to thrust a square box on
to
the table. From the bandana mask came a forced voice: "Here are the tapes.
Let's
see the lucre." The speaker pronounced the final word "loo-kar" in a derisive
manner, but it gave no clue to the intruder's identity. Margo, seated rigidly
in her chair, was trying vainly to identify the forced utterance, but it could
have represented anything from Hobbs' harsh voice to the contralto pitch
occasionally affected by Madge Moffat, with a whole range of tones in between.
As for Judge Kroft, he came slowly to his feet, pressing his hands on the
table
to support the weight of his stooped form.
      "It's here," he wheezed. Numbly, he opened his suit case, which was lying
on the table. "All of it. You can take it." He removed a folded cloth from the
suit-case and gestured to packages of currency beneath. "But first count it to
make sure it's all there."
      The intruder thrust a thickly gloved hand into the suit-case and brought
out a sheaf of bills only to emit a vicious snarl:
      "These bills are all blanks!''
      "And what would you expect?" came Kroft's high-pitched crackle. "A
personal check made out to the order of -"
      Margo couldn't catch the name that Kroft gave, for the masked intruder
drowned it with a savage roar while peeling off a glove and pulling a revolver
from deep in a hidden holster. In contrast, Kroft's action was not only
swifter, but incredibly deceptive.
      From the cloth beside the bag, Kroft whisked a black slouch hat that he
clamped on his shaggy head and, in the same action, whirled fully about,
rearing his stooped form to full height so that the yellow slicker dropped
from
his shoulders, disclosing a black cloak beneath. The crackly tone changed to a
sinister laugh of mockery as the spin continued and, in a trice, the masked
blackmailer was confronted by the cloaked figure of The Shadow, whose bare
hand
came up faster than the intruder's gun!
      A snap of The Shadow's thumb and the forefinger produced a blast that
sounded like a miniature bombshell. Blinded by the sudden smoke and flame, the
intruder reeled back; then drove forward, slugging wildly with his gun, only
to
find that his cloaked adversary was now behind him, clamping him with a
forearm
hold. Margo heard The Shadow's order, "Get the gun -" as the revolver dropped
to the table. She complied, as the next order came: "- And now the mask!"
      Snatching the bandana from the helpless intruder, Margo saw the face of
the culprit whom The Shadow, while posing as Kroft, had already identified:
Earl Torgesen!
      While Margo kept Torgesen covered, the master of darkness clamped a pair
of handcuffs on the helpless prisoner and brought a signal flare from the
suit-case, telling Margo to take it outside and set it off, which she did. In
response to the burst of red light, two speed-boats idling well off shore
immediately revved their motors and came in to a landing beside the
lighthouse.
Rushing in to inform The Shadow, Margo found that he had already packed his
cloak and hat to resume the pose of Judge Kroft, but only momentarily. A quick
upward sweep of his hands whipped away a shaggy white wig; then drawing his
fingers downward, he peeled away the thin, plastic mask that had formed a
perfect replica of Kroft's smooth visage, revealing the hawklike face of
Lamont
Cranston in its stead.


     SO it was Lamont Cranston who met the new arrivals: Lew Barton and Clyde
Burke from one speedboat, with a deputy sheriff from Gosport; Wilby Weldon and
Harry Vincent from the other, accompanied by a federal agent from Baxter
Harbor. Cranston explained that he had apprehended Earl Torgesen on orders
from
Judge Kroft and therewith turned the prisoner over to the lawmen. The dazed
blackmailer - who had not witnessed Cranston's transformation - was packed in
one boat while Cranston and Margo boarded the other and both craft took off on
a fast ten minute run to Gosport.
     By midnight, all details were completed there, so Cranston and Margo
headed back to Spruce Island in Barton's speed-boat, which was manned by Harry
Vincent and Clyde Burke. As the tide was now high, they sped directly into
Hiram's Cove, moored the boat at the float and were greeted by Judge Kroft at
the top of the steps.
     "Hobbs just stopped by," chuckled Kroft. "He'd just gone out to Beacon
Light and was amazed because I wasn't there."
     "So was I," returned Margo, "when I was out there."
     "It had to look as though I had gone out there," explained the judge,
"but
we knew that only Cranston could handle whatever happened. That's why we
arranged the switch." He turned approvingly to Cranston: "So it was Torgesen,
as you said it would be."
     "As I told you it had to be," corrected Cranston. Then, for the benefit
of
the others, he explained: "Although there were half-a-dozen suspects, only one
could possibly be guilty. All the rest were totally ignorant of the fact that
crime was brewing.
     "Thus, if we caught the culprit in a single lie, we would have the only
clue we needed. And you, Margo, provided that clue."
     Margo's eyes widened, proving she didn't fully understand.
     "On Thursday," Cranston went on, "Judge Kroft's reply to the blackmailer
was posted on the board where all the suspects could see it. When Torgesen
closed his store, he waited until after dark, then rode his bicycle up here,
bringing the tapes in a box, as he did tonight out at Beacon Light. To make
sure he wasn't noticed, he just decided to wheel his bike some distance up the
birch path; and it just happened that Hobbs, who was working at the
pump-house,
saw a figure moving among the trees and raised a yell that caused Judge Kroft
to
turn on the lights."
     Nods from listeners corroborated Cranston's quiet analysis as he
continued:
     "Torgesen handled it neatly. He set the bicycle aside and waved to Hobbs,
who recognized him. He could easily have given a plausible reason for coming
up
here, such as saying his phone was out of order and asking to use Judge
Kroft's.
But the unexpected arrival of Madge Moffat - and later Lester Blake - started
Hobbs shooting and caused complications for everybody - except Torgesen.
Realizing that neither Madge nor Blake could have been up at the Moffat House,
he simply stated that he had gone up there to deliver a package and had
stopped
here on the way back. That explained why he had a package on his bicycle
carrier, if anyone noticed it. A very neat touch."
     More nods from listeners showed that they agreed.
     "Instead of giving the package to Madge," remarked Cranston, "Torgesen
had
her pick it up at the store, which enabled him to switch packages. Nobody
noticed the oversight, so Torgesen, having outsmarted everybody else, went on
to outsmart himself. With three people already under suspicion as prowlers, he
decided to add two more. So he claimed to have seen a speed-boat in Hiram's
Cove when he rode past there. He couldn't have because he hadn't ridden up
past
the cove, for if he had he would have noticed that the tide was completely
out,
leaving nothing but mud flats there."
     So Lamont Cranston - otherwise The Shadow - had spoken the truth when he
said that Margo had provided the clue that marked Torgesen as the unknown
blackmailer! Not having seen the cove at low tide, she - like Torgesen - had
pictured it as a sheet of blue water; not a mass of brown mud!


     THERE was an interesting aftermath to the case.
     On Saturday, word came that the prisoner who called himself Earl Torgesen
had been fingerprinted and identified under another name as a confidence man
of
long standing, who incidentally, was among those listed on Kroft's tapes. At
six
o'clock that afternoon, as Lamont Cranston and Margo Lane were boarding the
'Priscilla' for the trip back to Baxter Harbor, Margo looked up across the
wharf to the sign:

     EARL TORGESEN
     GENERAL STORE

      "I wonder," remarked Margo, "why the blackmailer decided to take that
name!"
      "If you'd wondered sooner," responded Cranston, "we might have had him
labeled at the very start. Remember how fond he was of anagrams?"
      "Why, of course!"
      "Then twist them about: Earl Torgesen and General Store, pairing them
letter for letter as you go along."
      As Margo did and found that they tallied exactly, a clang of bells and a
shrill whistle seemed to say that the 'Priscilla', too, was witness to the
fact.


     THE END