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Slowly； The Shadow reversed his course along the girder。 His arms and legs were tired； but the course was downward and required less effort than his climb。 He reached the catwalk and settled to its surface。
From his high lookout； The Shadow watched the search along the ground。 At least twenty men were beating the brush； as they circled the shores of the pond。 Flashlights bobbed in the direction of a house； two hundred yards away。
Lights appeared in the house itself。 The Shadow knew that the police had roused the occupants； to make a search inside。
It was nearly an hour before the hunt ended。 Even then； the terrain did not clear entirely； a few watchers were posted along the ground。 None was near the tower； The Shadow moved along the catwalk and descended silently by the ladder。 There； he waited in darkness； watching the blink of flashlights。 Soon a pair came in his direction。
Sidling away from the tower； The Shadow listened while two men went up the ladder。 They were choosing the very lookout that The Shadow had occupied； so that they could keep in contact with the men below。 Evidently； the police intended to keep guard all night。
A clouded sky had rendered the darkness almost plete。 That suited The Shadow。 Silently； he made his way toward the house。 He paused close beside the building while muffled feet tramped past him。 A flashlight blinked； but did not turn in his direction。 When the guard had passed； The Shadow crept to the wall of the house。
THE building was a frame structure； a trellis showed vaguely in the darkness。 The Shadow used it as a ladder and made a quiet climb to a kitchen roof。 He found a darkened window above； used it to reach a ledge。 He was outside a third…story window； the shape of the roof indicated that this story of the house was an attic。
The window was a round one； on a pivot。 The Shadow swung it to a horizontal position； using his cloak to muffle any sound。 Head first； he wriggled through the half opening； came to the rough； unfinished floor of the attic。 Using a tiny flashlight in guarded fashion； The Shadow studied the room； foot by foot。
The attic had been searched by the police。 Pieces of old furniture had been shoved about； trunks had been pulled away from the wall。 The Shadow reached a flight of steps； crept downward； to a door that was locked from the other side。 This discovery pleased him。 As long as that door remained locked； neither the house…owners nor the law would bother with another search。 This attic could be The Shadow's refuge as long as he chose。
Eventually； he would have the choice of two exits： the window by which he had entered； or the door at the foot of the stairs。 Though the door was locked； The Shadow could easily open it。 His picks； lock…opening instruments expertly handled； had overe barriers that were far more formidable than that lower door。
Back in the attic； The Shadow made himself fortable。 He found an old couch that was thick…cushioned； despite its shabbiness。 Opening a trunk； he discovered blankets。 Rolling one as a pillow； he used the other for bedding； and stretched himself upon the couch。
From where he lay； The Shadow could see through the window。 He watched the motion of flashlights through the darkness。 They would continue until dawn； then there would be a search by day。 That hunt would cover many places； but it would not reach this attic； except by some freak of chance。 If the search came here； The Shadow would be ready。 If not； he would remain in the attic throughout the day。
For The Shadow expected no more trouble in Westford until tomorrow night。
His present policy was to let matters cool there。 Word would go around that Beezer Dorsch had fled the city； the same would be said about The Shadow。
Crooks would be bluffing when they spoke of Beezer； they would think that they told the truth； in the case of The Shadow。
Thus the stage would be set as The Shadow wanted it； when he returned。
Again； he could thrust from darkness； meet crooks and stagger them。 To date； The Shadow had steadily progressed。 He had saved Lieutenant Maclare； only Prescott Dunson's own mistakes had spoiled The Shadow's efforts toward a second rescue。
Likewise； chance had favored Beezer Dorsch； when The Shadow had trapped the murderer。 The same chance had driven The Shadow to this place of refuge； but he had not lost ground in his battle against crime。 Every fight had crippled more foemen； always； The Shadow had e through unscathed； departing into darkness。
Tomorrow night； The Shadow's plans called for a greater thrust； a move to the very place where crime was fostered。 His investigations in the city of Westford had given him close knowledge of all who were concerned in crime。
Unfortunately； The Shadow had not been present at that conference between Stephen Ruthley and his four associates。 The Shadow's absence from that meeting had caused him trouble when he trapped Beezer Dorsch。 It was due to provide him with more difficulties when he again went into Westford。
HAD The Shadow gained an inkling of the next move that Stephen Ruthley intended； he would not have considered it wise to remain in this secluded attic。 His policy would have been to slip the cordon of watchers and return to Westford on this very night。
As yet； The Shadow had dealt only with those lieutenants who served the overlord of crime。 He had not encountered Stephen Ruthley in action； nor did he expect to meet the master villain on the move。 Ruthley； as The Shadow sized him； was a cunning brain who could sit back and let others follow his mand。 Past events had backed The Shadow's opinion。 The future； however； could tell another story。
Stephen Ruthley； at this very moment； was pleting a plan of crime that would give The Shadow new and different evidence of the master villain's ways。
CHAPTER XI
WITHIN THE LAIR
EARLY the next evening； an automobile stopped in front of Stephen Ruthley's big apartment house。 The man who parked the car appeared to be a privileged person； for the curb where he pulled up bore the sign： 〃NO PARKING。〃
Entering the apartment house； this visitor walked up a broad flight of stairs to the second floor。 He rang a bell； at the imposing door that formed the entrance to Ruthley's apartment。 Haija answered the ring； the Jap bowed when he saw the visitor。
〃Good evening； Honorable Mr。 District Attorney；〃 said Haija。 〃Honorable Master expect you。〃
The district attorney followed the house…man to Ruthley's den。 Ruthley received him with outstretched hand； the gray…haired boss acpanied the gesture with his most genial smile。
〃Good evening； Wilderton！〃 greeted Ruthley。 〃Sit down； have a cigar。 Make yourself right at home。〃
Louis Wilderton took a chair opposite the portrait of Aramis。 The glow of a floor lamp showed the prosecutor to be a man in his thirties； a serious chap who tried to appear older than he was。 Wilderton was frail of build； light…haired and peaked of face。 His pointed nose supported a pair of large spectacles that gave him an owlish expression。
〃Trouble； Wilderton？〃 Ruthley purred the question in a fatherly tone。
Wilderton nodded。
〃Don't worry about Dunson's death；〃 remarked Ruthley。