Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 134 - The Radium Murders

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THE RADIUM MURDERS

by Maxwell Grant

As originally published in "The Shadow Magazine," September 15, 1937.

Greater than the terrible penetrating power of radium, was the

penetrating

power of The Shadow's mind, as he ferreted out the evil schemes of a master

villain who held in the palm of his hand the secret of The Radium Murders.

CHAPTER I

THE LOST ROAD

BALMY breezes from Long Island Sound wafted across the broad veranda of

the

Regatta Club. The cool night air streamed through the palatial lobby, and

brought a smile to the lips of a clerk who leaned indolently on the marble

desk.

A rasped voice ended the clerk's reverie. A thick-set man was pounding on

the desk. The clerk saw lips that had a bitter downturn; a flattish nose with

widened nostrils. Above were bushy brows, over bulgy eyes. The clerk knew that

face.

"What - what is it, Mr. Jadway?"

The clerk's stammer was apologetic; but it did not appease the thick-set

club member.

"Telephone calls came for me last night," snapped Jadway. "At ten

o'clock.

But I was not notified."

"I wasn't on duty last night, sir -"

"You're on duty tonight," interrupted Jadway. "I'm driving over to the

Hillside Country Club in Westchester, so remember it! If any one calls tell

them

I am here."

Jadway strode from the club. The clerk mopped his forehead. The job was

easy one at this exclusive North Shore club, except when members like Ursus

Jadway found some fault. Jadway was the sort who could have an employee fired

quickly as he could snap his fingers.

Jadway, the clerk had been told, was a millionaire.

Others had heard that same story including wealthy members of the Regatta

Club. All had been hoaxed. Actually, Ursus Jadway was a swindler of deepest

dye.

He was a confidence man who used deluxe methods. His haughty manner, his

pretended wealth were shams.

Jadway's true character had been uncovered by one person only. That

investigator was The Shadow.

Hidden master who defeated men of crime, The Shadow had studied cases

where

wealthy dupes had been plucked of fortunes. Behind those swindles, The Shadow

had seen the evil genius of Ursus Jadway.

The Shadow had placed a trusted agent on the swindler's trail.

Soon after Jadway's departure, a young man entered the lobby of the

Regatta

Club and asked for the pretended millionaire. The clerk informed the

questioner

that Jadway had gone to the Hillside Country Club.

The young man was Harry Vincent, an agent who worked for The Shadow. Five

minutes later, Harry was driving a swift coupe in the same direction that

Jadway

had taken. It was Harry's job to report on all contacts that Jadway made; and

far, Harry's work had taken him to three specific places.

One was the apartment house where Jadway lived, in New York City. The

second was the Regatta Club, on the north shore of the Sound. The third was

the

Hillside Country Club, near the Hudson River.

The three spots were like the points of a triangle. But at none of them

had

Harry seen Jadway start any conference that looked like the build-up of a

swindle.

IT was a twisty route through Westchester County, between the Sound and

the

Hudson. Harry thought that he knew the byways perfectly; but halfway along his

journey, he struck unfamiliar territory.

A slight fog had risen beneath the moonlight. Harry felt the engine

labor,

as the coupe took a winding hill. The slope was new to him. He was on the

wrong

road.

The top of the hill offered a left-hand fork that led downward. Harry

took

it; he ran into a stretch of rough road. Half a mile produced a well-paved

fork

to the right. Taking that route, Harry struck a twisty hill that was steeper

than the previous one.

He crossed a road that followed the contour of the hill. He twisted among

thick trees; then came to a clearing. The fog had lessened on this high

ground.

At the top of the hill, Harry looked off into the clear moonlight. He

stopped his car in wonderment.

Outlined against the night sky was a huge house that dominated the crest.

Its walls were grim, gray stone. From its high front ran two wings. The nearer

was two stories high; the farther wing must have had four floors, for it was

visible beyond the closer wing.

Near the rear of the lower wing was a turret, two floors in height,

topped

by a cone-shaped roof. It could once have been the end of the building, but at

present, it had an addition that led to a three-story annex at the back of the

building.

The annex connected both wings of the house, thus forming a courtyard

within the strange old building.

The mansion was weird and gloomy - a forgotten edifice lost on the

hilltop.

Its seclusion was that of a wilderness, although there were many towns in this

vicinity.

What impressed Harry most was the repressive effect that gripped the

house

itself. Though many windows were lighted, they were dim, as if vast rooms

swallowed all the glow that they possessed.

The road evidently ended at the house. Harry drove forward; he intended

follow the driveway beneath a front portico and swing around a circle that was

visible in the moonlight. But as he came to the porte-cochere that covered the

driveway, he was forced to jam the brakes in haste.

A car was already parked there, blocking Harry's route. The coupe's

lights

showed a squatly, wide-built roadster, with low top.

Sight of that roadster gave Harry Vincent a new surprise. He recognized

the

car instantly. It was the very automobile that he had set out to trail.

The squatty roadster belonged to Ursus Jadway!

FACTS were explained. At last, Harry understood why Jadway made trips

between Long Island Sound and the Hudson River. Somewhere between, at this

forgotten mansion, the swindler had a stopping-off place. His trips were

blinds

to cover his visits here.

Whatever crooked scheme Jadway was promoting, it certainly involved

someone

who lived in this gray-walled house.

Harry smiled to himself. So far he had kept out of Jadway's sight;

therefore, he could see an excellent way to learn what the swindler was about.

That method was to enter the house and meet the owner himself.

Harry extinguished the lights of the coupe. Walking past Jadway's

roadster,

he ascended stone steps to the front door. Seeing no bell, Harry pounded upon

huge brass knocker. Ten seconds later, bolts were drawn.

The door opened inward; by the light from a great, dim hall, Harry saw a

stalwart servant.

The man looked dull; but he was certainly brawny. His shoulders were

almost

as wide as his stocky height. His arms had the long swing of an ape's. Harry

saw

beady eyes that blinked from a chunky face. Thick lips moved, as if to mutter

question. Harry did not wait for the servant's coming words.

"Good evening," said Harry. Then, in casual tone: "I am Mr. Vincent."

The servant looked puzzled. He muttered:

"You came to see Professor Dorth?"

"Yes," returned Harry, boldly. "He may not expect me; but he will be glad

to see me."

The servant motioned for Harry to enter. He closed the door, slithered

the

bolts in place. That done, he conducted Harry across the huge hall, to a

forty-foot living room. Harry took a chair and watched the apish man go back

through the hall.

The living room fitted Harry's idea of the interior. It was gloomy,

despite

the dozen lights that Harry counted in table lamps and wall brackets. One end

the room had bookshelves running from corner to corner, clear to the ceiling;

yet Harry could scarcely discern the books.

The end of the room was almost a blot of darkness. Side walls and corners

were vague and deep. Drawn curtains indicated the presence of deep-ledged

windows. This room could shelter a host of unseen spies.

Harry felt that the huge house had swallowed him. The sensation caused a

chill, that made him approach a fireplace. There, the pitiful crackle of dying

embers afforded the only sound within the hush of surrounding walls.

At last, Harry heard another noise. Footsteps, coming closer, from

somewhere beyond the great hall. They reached the hall itself, and crossed it.

Still, Harry could see no one in the gloom.

Suddenly, a white-coated figure appeared at the living-room door. Harry

could see a face, also; but the form seemed legless, until the man was almost

the fireplace. Then Harry noted that he was wearing black trousers below his

white coat.

THE man's face was a darkish one, topped by sleek light hair, parted at

the

left. He looked about forty years of age; his expression was a solemn one. In

purred tone, the man inquired:

"Mr. Vincent?"

"Yes," returned Harry. "Are you Professor Dorth?"

"No. My name is Van Bryck. I am chief technician here. Do you come from

the

Superior Placement Bureau?"

Harry had a quick dash of thoughts. Van Bryck supposed him to be some

applicant for a position in the household. To pose as such would give The

Shadow's agent an opportunity to learn what Ursus Jadway was seeking here.

"Why, yes," replied Harry. "That is, a friend told me that there was a

job

here. He had learned it from the Bureau. But I didn't go there myself -"

"I see." Van Bryck accepted Harry's explanation. "Read this letter, Mr.

Vincent."

The letter was from the Superior Placement Bureau, dated a day ago. It

was

addressed to Professor Lycurgus Dorth. It stated that the Bureau regretted

that

no suitable applicant had been found for the post of secretary. That fitted

well

with Harry's bluff.

"My friend probably knew nothing of this," said Harry, glibly. "He told

about the opening, a few days ago. But if there is no job -"

"There is," interposed Van Bryck. "Professor Dorth has just concluded a

business arrangement that will make a secretary necessary. Are you prepared to

remain here, Mr. Vincent?"

Harry smiled. In his coupe was a packed suitcase that he always carried.

told Van Bryck that he had brought his luggage, in case he landed the job. The

technician was pleased.

"We can attend to the suitcase later," he told Harry. "Professor Dorth

will

see you first. This way, Mr. Vincent."

Harry followed the technician across the gloomy hall. They took an inner

corridor that led deep into the house.

They came to a square-walled room. Van Bryck motioned Harry to a chair in

deep, dim corner. The technician went through a farther door; made an

announcement and returned. He sat down near Harry.

SOON, the far door opened. Two men stepped from it. One was Ursus Jadway,

whose big lips showed a smile. The other was unquestionably Professor Dorth.

Tall, but bent of form, Dorth was about Jadway's height. The professor's

face was a sharp one; but so pale that it almost matched the shock of white

hair

that tapped his head. Keen, blue eyes gleamed from Dorth's dryish features.

The

hand that he extended to Jadway looked like a scrawny claw.

"Good night, Mr. Jadway," said Dorth, his tone gleeful. "Everything rests

with you, from tonight onward."

"A wise decision, professor," returned Jadway, in bluff fashion. "Your

invention needs promotion. I can handle it."

"Be sure to see Rune," reminded Dorth, "soon after he arrives in New

York.

He will reach the Hotel Moreland at midnight."

"Leave it to me, professor," promised Jadway. "I'll talk to Prescott

Rune.

I'll sell him on the idea."

Dorth accompanied Jadway out through the passage. Van Bryck arose and

pointed to the room that the pair had left.

"Wait in the professor's study," he ordered.

Harry entered a well-lighted room. He saw a desk with a chair in front of

it; and seated himself to await Dorth's return.

There was a slight click from the doorway that Harry had left. Van Bryck

had closed the door to leave Harry alone in the study.

The Shadow's agent was free to smile at the facts that he had learned.

Ursus Jadway was going into New York. That would place him under The

Shadow's own observation. Hence Harry could remain here and make the

acquaintance of Lycurgus Dorth.

By taking the job of secretary, Harry could learn facts regarding a man

named Prescott Rune, whose name had been mentioned by both Jadway and Dorth.

Evidently, Rune must hold an important part in matters to come.

Had Harry Vincent even guessed the part that Prescott Rune was to play,

would have lost his present elation. Grim events were in the making; but The

Shadow's agent had failed to gain even an inkling of the horror that the

future

held.

By staying in this weird mansion, Harry was postponing contact with The

Shadow. That postponement, though circumstances justified it, would later

handicap The Shadow in a struggle against hideous, ruthless crime.

CHAPTER II

ANOTHER VISITOR

WHILE he awaited Professor Dorth's return, Harry took opportunity to

observe the room about him. Professor Dorth's study was a most curious place;

that fact told Harry in exactly what portion of the house the room was

located.

The study was circular in shape. Therefore, it was obviously situated in

the rounded turret that ended the rear of the two-story wing. In viewing the

house from outside, Harry had been positive that this wing ended in a dead

wall,

for the three-story addition beyond it appeared to be of later construction.

Here, inside the turret itself, Harry saw proof of his earlier opinion.

This room had only one door; that was the one through which Harry had entered.

The room had windows, arranged in pairs. There were two such sets. One

pair

of windows opened on the front of the house; the others, directly opposite,

opened into the inner courtyard. Harry could see the windows; he observed that

they were barred on the inside.

One notable feature of the room was the thickness of its walls. They were

solid and covered with heavy wall paper that looked almost like a tapestry.

The

doorway through which Harry had entered was a deep one, with fully three feet

space from the wall to the door.

Similarly, the inner window frames were a three-foot depth.

From the front windows, Harry saw the lights of an automobile swing along

the driveway. It was Jadway's car, departing. A few minutes later, Harry heard

the study door open. Professor Dorth entered.

With a smile upon his withered face, the professor took a chair behind

the

desk, his back toward one of the courtyard windows.

A desk lamp threw a pleasing glow upon Dorth's features. He looked so

friendly that Harry was sure the professor was the sort of dupe that Jadway

would try to swindle. Dorth's tone, however, showed some shrewdness.

"Mr. Vincent," said the professor, "your work here will be very

important.

Therefore, I insist upon the utmost secrecy; also that you remain here

constantly."

Harry nodded his acceptance of the terms.

"I am an inventor," continued Dorth. "I have produced a substance that is

similar to radium. A chemical compound that retains its radioactive qualities.

Certain men wish to invest in the manufacture of this synthetic radium.

"A promoter named Ursus Jadway approached me. He is the man who just left

here. He wants to handle financial matters for me. But I am not sure of

Jadway's

honesty. I decided that I needed a secretary, after all, to help me keep check

on Jadway."

The statement pleased Harry. Since the professor suspected that Jadway

was

a crook, it would be easy to trap the swindler when the right time came. When

Dorth made his next statement, Harry had even more admiration for the

professor's foresight.

"Perhaps" - Dorth was smiling wisely - "you heard me mention the name of

Prescott Rune, who will arrive in New York late tonight. Rune wants to invest

my invention. I did not tell Jadway that Rune is stopping here on his way into

New York. Glidden, my chauffeur, went to meet his train at Harmon. Rune is due

here any minute."

DORTH had scarcely finished before there was a rap at the door. It was

the

apish servant. Dorth addressed the fellow as Tardon.

The servant announced that Mr. Rune had arrived; that Van Bryck was

bringing him to the study.

Prescott Rune arrived. He was a portly, gray-haired man whose manner was

mild and pleasant. Dorth introduced him to Harry; as Rune seated himself, Van

Bryck joined the group.

"Here are the papers," said Dorth, to Rune. "Made out as we agreed, when

you last visited here. We can sign them tonight. Van Bryck and Vincent can act

as witnesses."

Rune read over the documents. He brought a large fountain pen from his

pocket and signed. Dorth took the pen and did the same. The pen passed to

Harry,

who signed on a witness line. Van Bryck did the same.

"You will hear from a man named Ursus Jadway," Dorth told Rune. "He is a

New York promoter, who wants to push my invention. I told him that he could

proceed."

"But I have purchased full rights!" exclaimed Rune. "You have my payment

two hundred thousand dollars! I expect to see your radioactive powder

exhibited

at the medical convention, in New York. That is why I came here this week."

"Of course," assured Dorth. "Meanwhile, Jadway approached me. I am

suspicious of him, because he learned of my invention despite my efforts at

secrecy. I told him to see no one except persons whom I named."

"That's why you gave him my name?"

"Yes. So that you can size the fellow. He does not know that the

invention

belongs to you. If Jadway seems honest, you can use him later, to promote the

invention. If you consider him a doubtful character, postpone any decision.

Jadway will come back to me; and I shall tell him that I do not need his

services."

"You have a good business head, professor. Unless you signed an agreement

with Jadway."

"I signed nothing."

Dorth looked at his watch; and decided there was just time for Glidden to

take Rune to a branch-line station named Woodbury, where the portly man could

catch the last train into New York.

Van Bryck opened the door for them to pass; as Rune went by, the

technician

handed him his fountain pen.

"Thank you, Van Bryck," laughed Rune. "Most people forget to return

fountain pens. It is pleasing to meet an exception."

Van Bryck produced a sheaf of expense sheets and asked Harry to put them

proper shape. There was a typewriter on a table near Dorth's desk, so Harry

went

to work. Van Bryck watched a while; then went out. Alone, Harry finished the

report sheets.

He had time to type a brief note of his own. It concerned some small

investments; Harry addressed it to Rutledge Mann, a New York broker. Mann was

agent of The Shadow. He would forward the letter, thus informing The Shadow of

Harry's present address.

Pocketing the letter, Harry went out through the long passage. He found

Van

Bryck in the living room.

"Hello, Vincent," greeted the technician. "I was just coming in to see if

you had finished. Professor Dorth has retired. Glidden is just back from the

station, ready to put your car away. You will find him out front."

HARRY went out through the front door, to encounter a stocky man in

uniform

who introduced himself as Glidden. The fellow flicked a flashlight under the

porte-cochere; Harry gave him the key to the coupe as they walked toward the

car.

"Any mail, sir?" queried Glidden. "I'm driving to town early in the

morning."

It was the very opening that Harry wanted. He gave Glidden the letter

that

was addressed to Rutledge Mann. The chauffeur pocketed it and helped Harry

haul

his bag from the coupe.

Tardon appeared from the house and took Harry's bag. Harry followed him

into the house and up a long flight of gloomy stairs. They reached a room

located in the high wing of the house.

Alone again, Harry reviewed all that had happened. He was sure of his

guess

that Professor Dorth was smart enough to deal with Ursus Jadway. Dorth had

proven that in his conversation with Prescott Rune. Jadway was being bluffed;

for he did not know that Rune had already purchased full rights to Dorth's

invention.

As for himself, Harry felt secure. He could easily keep on with the part

that he had undertaken. Once The Shadow had received Harry's letter from Mann,

there would be new orders. This house, though gloomy and weird, was a place

where danger was merely imaginary. Such was Harry's opinion.

THE SHADOW'S agent might have changed his viewpoint, had he been able to

gain another glimpse of Professor Dorth's study. That turret room was still

illuminated; it held two occupants: Professor Dorth and Van Bryck. The

technician's statement that the professor had retired was a falsehood.

Professor Dorth was scanning the pages of a letter. Finished, he folded

the

note and thrust it back into its envelope. The flap of the envelope was loose.

Poorly gummed, it had not remained closed.

"So he gave this to Glidden," snorted Dorth. "Bah! I knew the fool would

try to send a letter from here!"

"It doesn't state much," remarked Van Bryck. "There is a chance, though,

that it is written in code."

"I shall study it tomorrow," declared Dorth. "If it is a code, I shall

solve it. A code will prove definitely that Vincent is working for Ursus

Jadway."

"And if it is not code?"

"Then we shall know that he is in the employ of someone else. In either

event, Vincent will remain here, lulled into the belief that he is secure."

Van Bryck pondered, then shook his head.

"We must be wary, professor," he insisted. "Vincent may learn too much."

"Learn too much?" echoed Dorth. "He has learned too much already!"

"But he suspects nothing as yet."

"We shall let him suspect something. We shall watch his reactions, Van

Bryck. They may be of value as we proceed. Remember: we hold this fellow

helpless. With Tardon, Glidden, half a dozen others whom Vincent has not seen,

we shall have no trouble in disposing of him when circumstances require it."

Leaning back in his chair, Professor Lycurgus Dorth delivered an

insidious

chortle, revealing an evil nature that the professor had wisely veiled when in

the presence of visitors.

The glare of Dorth's eyes was ominous. Van Bryck observed it and was

pleased. The technician, as vicious of nature as the professor, was convinced

upon one point.

Van Bryck was sure that Harry Vincent would remain alive and unharmed

only

so long as Professor Dorth chose to tolerate the new secretary's presence

within

this strange mansion of evil.

CHAPTER III

DEATH'S LONE CLUE

THE trip from Woodbury to New York City required about fifty minutes;

hence

it was about twenty minutes after eleven when Prescott Rune came into Grand

Central Station.

He took a cab to the Hotel Moreland, registered there and was assigned to

Room 1218. He left orders to be called at eight-thirty in the morning.

Rune started unpacking his suitcase. This took about a dozen minutes;

when

he had finished, he lifted the bag from a trunk rack and placed it on the

floor.

Rune gasped. His lips twitched from a twinge of violent pain. Doubling

his

portly body, he pressed both hands to his heart. His expression became

bewildered. Whatever the attack, it was a sort that Rune had never before

experienced.

The pain continued. Rune made a feeble outcry. When he tried to

straighten,

he staggered. Pangs of agony expressed themselves upon his face, as his hands

tugged at the buttons of his vest. Finding his fingers nerveless, Rune started

for the telephone. He never reached it. Instead, he sprawled upon the floor.

The stricken man tried to crawl to the door. He flattened five feet short

of his goal. The mirror of a closet door reflected his face; Rune was wild as

eyed his own distorted countenance. It was a demon's visage, mocking him.

Rune gave a final quiver, and lay still.

For five minutes, shaded lamps threw their glow upon the twisted figure.

Then came the tingle of the telephone bell. Rune neither heard nor stirred. He

was dead.

DOWN in the lobby, a short while later, Ursus Jadway received the clerk's

report:

"Sorry, sir. Mr. Rune does not answer."

Jadway glared angrily at the clock above the desk.

"If Mr. Rune came in at midnight," began Jadway, "he ought to be awake.

It's only ten minutes after twelve."

"Mr. Rune arrived at half past eleven," informed the clerk. "He left

orders

to be called at eight-thirty. If you will leave your name, sir -"

"I'll call him in the morning. Since he's gone to sleep, I won't disturb

him."

As Jadway strode from the desk, a tall, calm-faced stranger let him pass.

The new guest stated that he had luggage in a taxi, waiting outside. The clerk

called a bell boy. The tall arrival followed.

When the bell boy had unloaded the cab, the stranger spoke to the cab

driver, in whispered tone:

"Follow Jadway! Report to Burbank. Tell him to call Henry Arnaud at the

Hotel Moreland."

The tall stranger was The Shadow. Hearing nothing from Harry Vincent, The

Shadow had watched Jadway's Manhattan apartment. He had trailed Jadway here,

a cab manned by one of his own agents - Moe Shrevnitz, taxi driver. Having

overheard the conversation at the desk, The Shadow intended to stay at the

Moreland.

As Arnaud, The Shadow asked for a top-floor room. The Moreland had just

twelve floors; and he had noticed Rune's name on the register, with the

listing,

1218. The clerk offered Room 1212; the new guest thought it too near the

elevators. He received 1220, instead. That room was next to the one occupied

Rune.

Reaching his room, The Shadow opened a suitcase and donned garments of

black. A cloak rendered him almost invisible in the room light. His disguised

face was lost from sight beneath the brim of a slouch hat. A being of

blackness,

The Shadow stepped out into the hall, to listen at the door of 1218.

The carpet was too thick to allow light beneath the door. A key blocked

the

lock; the Shadow, however, began operations with a tiny pick-like instrument.

another half minute, he would have silently entered Rune's room, to learn of

death there. A chance interruption was the factor that halted The Shadow.

The telephone bell was ringing in Room 1220.

Returning quickly to his own room, The Shadow answered the call in the

tone

of Arnaud. It was Burbank, The Shadow's contact agent, reporting that Jadway

was

back in his apartment. Hanging up, The Shadow saw no further need to enter

Rune's room.

Since The Shadow had heard the ring of his own telephone bell, while he

was

in the hall, he had merely to open the transom in order to hear any tingle of

the phone bell in 1218. He could then listen in from the hallway, if a call

came

for Rune.

That seemed sufficient, even to The Shadow; for he was dealing with Ursus

Jadway, who had a bad listing only as a swindler; not as a criminal who dealt

murder. Unquestionably, Jadway would use strong-arm men if he saw himself in a

tight spot; but there was no indication that Jadway feared Prescott Rune.

On the contrary, Jadway's whole manner of action indicated that he was

seeking Rune as a dupe for some new swindle. Therefore, The Shadow's time to

listen in would be tomorrow morning, when Jadway called.

MORNING arrived. The Shadow was wakened from his customary light sleep,

the jangle of Rune's telephone bell. The ringing persisted, while The Shadow

was

getting into his clothes. He was fully dressed before the bell stopped.

Stepping into the corridor, The Shadow could hear no voice beyond Rune's

door.

An elevator stopped at the twelfth floor. As Arnaud, The Shadow stepped

back in his own room. He watched while a bell boy arrived to pound on Rune's

door. Gaining no response, the bell hop hurried back to the elevator.

Rune's failure to answer the phone call had alarmed the downstairs clerk.

scare could spread quickly at a placid hotel like the Moreland. The bell boy

would soon be back with the house detective. The Shadow did not linger; it

would

be advantageous to be elsewhere, if there proved to be something wrong with

Rune.

Packing quickly, The Shadow went downstairs. While he was paying his

bill,

he noted that the bell boy was absent. He had probably gone upstairs on

another

elevator, taking the house dick. That proved to be the case.

There was a ring from the telephone bell behind the desk. The clerk

answered it. The Shadow heard his gasp:

"What? Dead! You say that Mr. Rune is dead?"

Staring, the clerk saw a tall form going through the doorway to the

street.

He called to the cashier:

"Who was that who just checked out?"

"Mr. Arnaud," was the reply. "From Room 1220."

Excitedly, the clerk dashed to the street. A taxi swung from sight around

the corner. The Shadow had made a complete departure.

LATER that same morning, a tall, hawk-faced stranger strolled into the

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THERADIUMMURDERSbyMaxwellGrantAsoriginallypublishedin"TheShadowMagazine,"September15,1937.Greaterthantheterriblepenetratingpowerofradium,wasthepenetratingpowerofTheShadow'smind,asheferretedouttheevilschemesofamastervillainwhoheldinthepalmofhishandthesecretofTheRadiumMurders.CHAPTERITHELOSTROADBALMYb...

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Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 134 - The Radium Murders

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