〃Too bad；〃 remarked Marclot。 〃It cannot be helped； though。 Many persons doubted that Judge Benbrook could stand the strain of reappearance in public life。〃
〃We still have you； Louis；〃 resumed Ruthley； addressing the district attorney。 〃You are the right man。 Your support of Judge Benbrook won you many friends。 We shall return to our original plan； your reelection。〃
Wilderton tried to look pleased； but he was too worried about the references to Judge Benbrook's absence。 At last he decided that Ruthley was right。 It would be impossible to depend upon the judge。 Seeing Wilderton's change of expression； Ruthley strolled again to the window。
〃Kirk is back！〃 he exclaimed。 〃I see his car outside。 He must have returned while we were talking。 I suppose the Flying Squadron is still out。 I see a few of the precinct police on duty。〃
The appearance of bluecoats disturbed neither Ruthley nor Marclot。 The apartment house was not in Lieutenant Maclare's precinct。 As Ruthley stepped back from the window； the doorbell rang。 Ruthley heard Haija in the hall。 The boss stood waiting for Borman to appear。
Suddenly； Ruthley glowered； his glinting eyes denoted perplexity。 Mayor Marclot looked in the same direction and gasped。 Louis Wilderton came to his feet with a glad gasp。
Kirk Borman had entered； sober…faced and glum。 With the police director was a man whom none expected。 Borman's panion was Judge Martin Benbrook。
ERECT and firm of step。 Judge Benbrook strode to the center of the room。
While Ruthley and Marclot looked to Borman for an explanation； the judge drew a large envelope from his pocket。 From it； he drew objects that made Stephen Ruthley gape。
〃These are for you； Louis；〃 stated the judge； to Wilderton。 〃You will recognize this； perhaps。 It is a list of names that you gave to Stephen Ruthley。 Turn it over； Louis。〃
Wilderton took the crumpled sheet of paper； turned it over and saw Woodstock's name and telephone number。 Judge Benbrook mented dryly：
〃Ask Ruthley if he recognizes his own handwriting。〃
A look of understanding dawned on Wilderton's owlish face。 He blinked through his spectacles。
〃What does this mean？〃 he exclaimed。 〃You called Woodstock； after I was here； Mr。 Ruthley？〃
Ruthley's glower had faded。 The big…shot was smoother than ever。
〃I do not recall that I ever called Adam Woodstock；〃 he began。 〃In fact； I scarcely knew the man by sight。〃
〃Yet you visited him that same night；〃 remarked Judge Benbrook； coldly； 〃and left your signature upon the blotter on his desk。 Along with Woodstock's own signature。〃
From the envelope； the judge took the telltale blotter。 He gave it to Wilderton； who recognized both signatures despite their reversed form。 Smiling； Ruthley purred his protest。
〃Why should I have signed my name in Woodstock's presence？〃 he questioned。
〃On what sort of document would I have placed it？〃
〃At the bottom of Woodstock's statement；〃 accused Judge Benbrook； in tone of firm denunciation。 〃The sheet from which you clipped your signature later； after you had bluffed Woodstock into signing the statement himself。 Take this paper； Wilderton！〃 The judge unfolded a sheet and gave it to the district attorney。 〃It is Wilderton's own stationery； but this sheet is of proper length。 pare it with the clipped statement that you filed in your office files and…〃
Stephen Ruthley interrupted with a harsh challenge。 He had no more need for smooth procedure。 Judge Benbrook was an enemy who had to be eliminated； so was Louis Wilderton； now that the prosecutor's eyes had been opened。 Ruthley shot his hand to his hip； he carried a gun there and he intended murder； expecting the support of Elvin Marclot and Kirk Borman。
The mayor was too dumfounded to make a move； but Borman shot his hand to his own pocket； whipped out a revolver and covered Ruthley before the boss could pull his gun。
〃THE game is up； Steve；〃 croaked Borman； sourly。 〃You're wanted for the murder of Adam Woodstock。 Marclot and I will have to tell all we know。 Don't blame me for it。 I'm not acting on my own。〃
Kirk Borman's words were suddenly explained。 A burly man stepped into view from the hallway； he was in blue uniform； he carried a police revolver。 The man was James Maclare； the grizzled police lieutenant wore a triumphant expression upon his weather…beaten face。 He spoke to Borman； the police director lowered his gun and let Maclare take charge。
Behind Maclare came three policemen from his own precinct。 He had brought them with him； and had left a squad outside。 In that instant； Stephen Ruthley guessed the answer。 The hand of The Shadow was behind this showdown。 Ruthley needed no news of the battles that had finished thugs and mowed down the Flying Squadron。 He was too concerned with his own Waterloo。
〃The graft money is in the filing cabinet； Maclare；〃 informed Borman through gritted teeth。 〃Millions of it！ Ruthley bundled it all； in case we had to make a break from town。 With the papers； too…〃
〃You double…crosser！〃 snarled Ruthley； 〃saving your own hide by squealing on the rest of us！ I suppose The Shadow shoved you into this？〃
Borman caught a glint in Ruthley's eye； one that he understood。 The police director's hard lips formed a smile； he gave a nod to show that he was ready。
Ruthley bawled a sudden order：
〃All right； Lance！〃
The picture on the wall ripped inward。 Men from beyond cracked the fastening loose as they hit the frame with full force。 Headlong into the room came Lance Gillick and Beezer Dorsch。 With them； they brought full proof of Stephen Ruthley's guilt。
Though other evidence stood as circumstantial； the presence of Beezer Dorsch； known murderer； in Ruthley's own apartment was a fact that would stand in any court。 It showed Ruthley's plicity in every crime that had happened in Westford。 It marked him as the big…shot of the crime ring； beyond all denial。
IN that startling moment； however； no one thought of that important detail。 Lance and Beezer were straightening； leveling revolvers that they knew how to use。 Maclare and the three officers were wheeling toward them； intent on dealing with these enemies； they forgot Stephen Ruthley。
The big…shot whipped out his revolver； at the same moment； Kirk Borman rallied with him。 Honesty did not appeal to the police director。 Ruthley had guessed that fact； was counting upon Borman to side with him； using the gun that Maclare had allowed Borman to bring along on promise that he would side with the law。
The Shadow had arranged all this； through Judge Benbrook； he had approved of Borman's cooperation。 The judge； dropping helplessly toward the wall； gained sudden fear that The Shadow's strategy had failed。 Lance and Beezer； breaking past the picture of Aramis； had equaled the odds of crime against the law。
Then came the finish。 Police guns ripped。 Lance and Beezer never had a chance against them。 Maclare and his bluecoats beat the two crooks to the shot； sprawled them with a deluge of bullets before they could recover from their hasty entry。
Judge Benbrook cried a warning。 Ruthley and Borman were ing to a counterthrust。 The advantage that the police had gained was lost。 Borman was aiming for Maclare； the director had gained the bulge on the sturdy police officer。
Death for Maclare…and the others； for Ruthley was a close second with his gun。 Such was the intent of crooks； but their purpose never carried。 Before a single gun could bark within the room； an automatic spoke from the blackened doorway where the full…length portrait had been。
There stood The Shadow。 He had entered by the passage； to watch Lance and Beezer。 He had let them crash through； but he was close behind them。 He had spared the two； so that the law could have them。 His battle was with another pair。 First； the double traitor； Kirk Borman。
The Shadow's first shot was aimed for Borman； a spurt of flame delivered a bullet that found the crook's heart。 Borman sagged to the floor； his gun unfired。
Stephen Ruthley performed the move that The Shadow expected。 He forgot Maclare； swung to deal with his arch…foe； The Shadow。
Two guns spoke at once。 The Shadow； as he fired； wheeled away； beyond the edge of the doorway。 He was on the move as he snapped the trigger。 Ruthley's quick bullet shot inches wide。 The master of crime never knew that his shot had missed。
For Ruthley had made no feint。 Standing his ground； hoping to beat The Shadow's shot； he received what he had sought to deal。 A withering bullet pierced the master crook's chest。 Forward； with a long sprawl； Stephen Ruthley flattened to the floor。
THE handcuffs were on Mayor Elvin Marclot。 His pompous pose gone； the last ace of the crime ring shivered as he eyed the bodies on the floor。
Lance Gillick； his evening clothes smeared with blood； lay sagged across the rough…clad form of Beezer Dorsch。 Kirk Borman's face was rigid in death； scowling its last expression of treachery。 Amid them lay Stephen Ruthley； his profile glaring along the tufted surface of an oriental rug。
Weakling of the lot； Elvin Marclot had survived； to do the task that The Shadow had offered Kirk Borman： to gain some leniency through a plete confession of all the crookedness in which he an