envelope.
With another pen, one that contained a darker ink, The Shadow wrote the
address:
Rutledge Mann
Badger Building
New York City.
Tomorrow, Rutledge Mann would receive that note from The Shadow. A
complacent, chubby-faced investment broker, Mann served as The Shadow's contact
agent. High in his office in the towering Badger Building, Mann would read the
coded message.
The writing would fade immediately afterward. Such was the way with the
ink that The Shadow used in communicating with his agents. But Mann would
remember what he had read. He would summon one of The Shadow's active
operatives and would dispatch that man upon the quest which awaited in the city
of Southfield.
Crime long forgotten! Its aftermath was to come. As Convict 9638, Ferris
Legrand had languished in a State prison, hoping for the day when he would be
free to return to his old life in Southfield.
That day would never come. Ferris Legrand was dying even as The Shadow
studied the facts that concerned his past. But another would step in to take
his place - one craftier than Ferris Legrand.
Slade Farrow, alias Sam Fulwell, had learned a secret from Legrand's dying
lips. Its import was something that only Farrow knew. The existence of the
secret, so Farrow thought, was also a fact unknown.
But Slade Farrow had not reckoned with The Shadow. Suspecting some such
secret, the black-gabbed master had made his strange visit within prison walls.
There The Shadow had learned that Slade Farrow had taken on a mission for the
future.
Days alone remained until the clever, hard-faced convict would be at
liberty. Then his action would commence. Secure and confident, Slade Farrow
would step forth to begin a new and startling career.
The Shadow's plans were made. Crime was impending in Southfield.
Mysterious events, linked with hidden secrets of the past, were already in the
making. Slow, cautious moves would lead to rapid action.
The Shadow was preparing for the events that were to come!
CHAPTER III
THE SHADOW TRAILS
THE upper concourse of the Grand Central Station was thronged with holiday
travelers. A tall man, standing near a train gate, was watching the passers in
leisurely fashion. To all appearances, he was merely a chance waiter amid the
throng.
There was something in this personage's appearance that marked him as
distinctive. Hastening train takers were too busy about their own affairs to
give more than a passing glance toward the waiting man's unusual countenance.
