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reality Lamont Cranston, a wealthy young man about town. Cranston’s friend and companion, the lovely Margo Lane, is the only person who knows to whom the unseen voice belongs. The only one who knows the true identity of that master of other people’s minds—The Shadow. Today’s story, ‘Guest of Death.’”
    â€œâ€˜Guest of Death,’” said Grandma Engel from her easy chair. “This sounds like a good one.”
    Frankie grinned and they both listened as the organ music began:
dum-da-da-di-dum-dum-doe-da-di-dum-DUM!
    â€œDoes Aunt Dottie have a radio?” asked Frankie.
    â€œI believe so.”
    â€œGood.” Frankie closed her eyes and laid her hand on the rug beside her. “Then it’s like she’s here with us.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” said Grandma Engel. “I’m sure you’ll hear from Joan soon. She just needs some time to settle in, is all.”
    â€œShh,”
said Frankie. She turned up the volume dial. “We’re missing it.”
    â€œ
Shh
yourself,” said Grandma Engel.
    Frankie smiled. That’s just what Joan would’ve said.

8
    ABOUT HALFWAY THROUGH THE program, just as the Shadow was about to cloud the mind of someone and find out what evil lurked in his heart, there was a knock at the Baums’ door. Frankie at first thought it was coming from the Philco, and paid no attention. Grandma Engel was asleep in the chair and heard nothing.
    But the knock came again, and this time louder. Frankie didn’t want to miss her program, not when the guest of death had yet to be revealed, so she hollered, “Someone’s at the door!”
    â€œWho died?” said Grandma Engel, awaking from a dream with a spark. She looked around the room, trying to get her bearings, until she laid her eyes on Frankie, who could only shake her head and laugh. “Wait until you get old,” said Grandma Engel. “Mark my words, you won’t think it so funny.”
    Daddy appeared then, followed by Mother, on their way to the door. “My goodness,” said Daddy, “that must be a gripping episode, seeing how the door is only—what would you say, Mildred? Five feet away?”
    â€œReally, Frances,” said Mother.
    Daddy winked at Frankie and then opened the door just as the Shadow’s ominous laugh seeped out from the radio—
heh-heh-heh-heh-heh
. Frankie rubbed her bare arms, which had turned to gooseflesh.
    In the open doorway stood Mr. Price, puffing on a fat cigar.
    â€œGood evening,” said Mr. Price, first removing his derby and then his cigar. “I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I stopped by your new place of business and must have just missed you.” He peered into the living room. “I hope I’m not intruding, but I’d like to speak with you, Mr. Baum.” He smiled at Mother. “About Chamber of Commerce matters.”
    Puff.
    Puff.
    â€œDo come in,” said Daddy, ushering him through the living room and offering him a seat at the dining table.
    â€œWould you like some coffee or tea?” asked Mother.
    â€œHow about something with ice?” said Mr. Price, setting his derby on the table. He retrieved a handkerchief from his linen jacket pocket and mopped the sweat from his forehead.
    â€œWill do,” said Mother. On the way to the icebox, she circled back into the living room, reached in front of Frankie, and turned down the volume on the radio.
    â€œI can’t hear it now,” complained Frankie. “And neither can Grandma.” She looked over at Grandma Engel, but her head was set deep into the chair cushion. She had nodded off once again.
    Before heading into the kitchen, Mother raised her eyebrows at Frankie as if daring her to touch the volume dial, a dare Frankie knew better than to accept. So Frankie pressed her ear against the speaker and tried to listen as best she could.
    Meanwhile, Mr. Price pulled out a