"When can we get together again, Allard?"
"In about an hour." Allard's lips showed a slight smile. "I have an appointment; after that, I shall be free at the hotel."
"Couldn't you come back here?"
"It might be too late. But you are welcome to call, commissioner."
Returning to the banquet room, Weston met Clyde. He said to the reporter:
"Stay around, Burke. We may drop in on Allard along about half past nine."
That ended Clyde's chance to call Eleanor and talk with her again; perhaps getting her to come in town in time for a late show. It also meant that Clyde was to scoop the city on another big news story.
HENSHEW'S apartment was only fifteen minutes from the Cobalt Club, and The Shadow headed there directly in Moe's cab, donning his cloak and hat while he rode.
After rolling slowly along the darkened rear street, Moe knew that his passenger was gone. Moe circled the block and parked in a convenient spot, to await The Shadow's return.
The cab was still there when Madden Henshew arrived home at ten minutes of nine, thanks to the fast schedule of the express from Philadelphia and a quick cab trip from Pennsylvania Station. Something unforeseen had delayed The Shadow in Henshew's apartment.
Moreover, for once, The Shadow was seemingly unwary. When Henshew unlocked the apartment door, he saw a flicker of light that repeated itself in the corner by the bookcase. It was the gleam of The Shadow's tiny flashlight.
Apparently, the intruder had not heard Henshew unlock the door; otherwise the light would not have glimmered twice. Softly, Henshew closed the door and sneaked through the outside hall. For once, the baldish crook had lost his confidence. He was feverish in his haste.
Henshew managed to fake an unruffled appearance when he went downstairs in the elevator. He spoke calmly to the doorman, when he said:
"I forgot a package at the station. If any one calls while I am out, tell them to wait."
Reaching a store on the corner, Henshew was excited again. His fingers shook as he dialed a number. He was taking a long shot that he had reserved only in case of extreme emergency. He was making a direct telephone call to Shark's hide-out.
Shark's voice answered with disguised gruffness. With whispered pant, Henshew spoke his own name from the telephone booth. Shark asked the trouble.
"Some one in the apartment!" wheezed Henshew. "I don't know who it is - only I saw him searching there!"
"You saw him, huh?"
"I saw a light that he was using -"
"Then it wasn't The Shadow." Shark's growl was a confident one. "Whatta you want me to do? Take care of it the way we arranged?"
"If there's still time -"
"Don't worry. There will be. I'll handle the lug!"
Shark hung up abruptly. Henshew came sweating from the booth and started toward the street. He remembered that he had mentioned a package to the doorman. So he made some purchases in the drug store and had them wrapped in a large bundle.
OUTSIDE, Henshew walked nervously around the block. He knew that Shark would arrive very soon, for the killer had shifted to a new hide-out. It was in a disreputable district that encroached upon big apartment houses quite close to Henshew's residence.
Henshew had not liked Shark's choice of a new hiding place; but his opinion had changed tonight. He knew, too, that Shark always kept a crew of triggermen close enough to be summoned without delay. By the time that Henshew had circled the block, he guessed that Shark was due.
Lugging his package, Henshew hurried along another block; saw a cab and boarded it. He rode to the apartment house, only a twenty-cent fare; but he handed the taxi driver a half dollar and told him to keep the change.
The doorman saw that Henshew's package was fairly heavy, so he offered to take it.
That suited Henshew. Fishing for his apartment key, he asked the doorman to carry the package upstairs.
As they walked toward the elevator, Henshew saw that it was ten minutes after nine. The time suited him exactly.
Again, the master-crook's face was calm. He was ready for another of his daring games, one that he had long ago arranged in every detail, even though he had never expected to use it. This game would bring an alibi, the sort that would help. Henshew was almost glad that a prowler had entered his apartment.
There was another little matter that this episode might settle; one that had rankled Henshew ever since the afternoon, when Chanbury had called to offer cash instead of uncut diamonds. That new suggestion regarding the jewel purchase had made Henshew uncertain about how to manage the sale.
Matters would be different after the next half hour, decided Henshew; and he was right. Matters were to be far different, for both Madden Henshew and his murderous accomplice, Shark Meglo.
The present trap was like a spider web, set to enmesh a helpless fly. That web had gathered in a stinging hornet in the person of The Shadow.
CHAPTER XVII. VANISHED SPOILS
SHARK MEGLO and his henchmen had reached the upper floor ahead of Henshew. They had come by that rear entrance that led to the stairway, a route unwatched by apartment house attendants, for the back door had a heavy latch. Shark had opened it with a key long ago provided by Henshew.
Shark had keys to the apartment, also. There were two doors - one from the main hallway, the other from a side corridor. The first opened into Henshew's living room; the second into a kitchenette. Shark was using both. He spoke final instructions to his trigger-men, at the spot where the corridors met.
"Get the lug that's in there," ordered Shark. "Bounce a gat off his konk and drag him along. We're taking him on a one-way ride! Whoever grabs the guy is to head out in a hurry. The rest of you heave stuff around the joint.
"Keep wrecking it until Henshew shows up with some of the monkeys that work here. Don't bump any of that bunch. Sock 'em and scram. Got it all straight? Let's go!"
Shark did not specify why he had given such odd instructions; but that did not bother his men. They never guessed that this raid was to polish off an unwanted intruder and cover up for Henshew. Shark's outfit took orders as they received them.
Half a dozen strong, the invaders deployed in two groups entering by living room and kitchenette. They were cautious as they moved, for they wanted to trap their victim unawares. They needed some token to make sure that he was still present, and they saw just what they wanted.
The Shadow's tiny flashlight was blinking along the middle row of books in the living room alcove. It did not show the person who held it. Shark, therefore, was more positive than ever that the intruder could not be The Shadow.
Shark restrained his men with a whisper. This victim would be easy; he was too concentrated on his search to know that enemies were closing in upon him.
The flashlight finally stopped near the end of a row of books. Its glow became fixed, shining at an angle toward the volumes. Shark snapped the word:
"Get him!"
Five thugs surged forward in a fanwise wall closing in upon their prey. All were eager to land the first slugging blow. As the thugs attacked, Shark pressed the light switch. In the glare, Shark saw his men drive up against the writing desk. Raised arms halted; the crowd broke.
No victim lay beneath them. One thug had jarred the writing desk; Shark saw a tiny flashlight topple to the floor. It had been resting there on the desk, to draw the attack; but its elusive owner was gone!
A STRONG laugh challenged from the corner - that same spot where The Shadow had kept from Tyrune's view only a night ago. Shifting in the dark The Shadow had picked that vantage point. His mirth told his identify before eyes could mark him.
Chill mockery, a sardonic laugh that only one living being could hurl, was his token of defiance.
The Shadow!
Attackers were tricked. They knew it. Most duped of the lot was Shark Meglo, the leader who had assured his followers that they would find an easy victim. To Shark's ears, as to others, the source of The Shadow's laugh was indefinable. The mirth se
emed to shiver from the very walls of this large room.
It was Shark, however, who first saw The Shadow. Maddened to desperation, the murderer spun viciously, his ugly eyes glittering in their search. Shark saw The Shadow; but not in time to act.
A streak of blackness, The Shadow was looming upon the killer, driving with terrific speed. Launched straight for the murderer, the cloaked avenger was bringing a gun muzzle to bear.
Had Shark tried to beat The Shadow to that shot, his attempt would have been suicide. In one stroke, The Shadow could end all battle; for Shark's crew would weaken with their leader's fall.
Shark did not try to fire. He was more yellow than The Shadow supposed. Shark made a wild dive away from The Shadow's gun muzzle, giving a hoarse shout as he hit the floor.
Shark's crew heard; they whipped about to see The Shadow. Not guessing that Shark had yellowed, the mobbies were ready to deliver fire.
It was The Shadow's turn for a shift of action. Halting, he sped his free hand to the light switch and pressed it. The room was blotted in an instant. The Shadow had whirled away when the trigger-men began their fire.
Amid the barks of wildly stabbing revolvers came the spurts of The Shadow's .45, pumping its deadly metal. Darkness was The Shadow's entrenchment. He was everywhere, yet nowhere. Thugs were sinking, wounded; others thought they had located The Shadow. Revolvers boomed in unison, all in one direction.
As the echoes ended, a laugh sounded in the ears of the faltering killers. An instant later, The Shadow was sledging strokes to unprotected skulls, in the very midst of the clustered crew!
CROOKS broke. They dashed for the doorways, hoping that The Shadow's gun was empty. It was; but he was drawing a second weapon. He ripped new bullets after the fleeing horde. The few who escaped were lucky. Only two were able to reach the hallway; but there was one who had gone ahead of them.
That was Shark Meglo. He had taken flight through the kitchenette, during that last set-to in the darkness.
In the hallway, the pair of fleeing crooks bowled over Henshew and the doorman. They were headed for the open elevator; but the operator slammed it in their faces and they took to the stairs instead.
Henshew, playing the part of a frightened man, ran along the hall trying to open apartment doors; and the doorman followed him. Some one let them into an apartment.
All was quiet on the battle ground, except for the groans of crippled thugs who lay in Henshew's living room. Somewhere in the darkness moved The Shadow; but there was another who had suddenly chosen a lurking game. That was Shark Meglo.
The pair of routed hoodlums had torn past Shark before he could reach the stairway, for their route was shorter. When he reached the stairs, Shark stopped. A vicious look covered his long-jawed face.
So it was The Shadow, after all; and The Shadow thought that Shark was yellow. Whatever Shark's own estimate of himself, he saw advantage in the situation. The Shadow would be coming out from Henshew's, confident that no enemy remained. That was where The Shadow would be fooled. The Shadow would find no one; but some one would find The Shadow.
That some one would be Shark!
Crouched on the stairs, Shark waited, ready with his gun. He hadn't wasted a shot from that big weapon.
He would have six of them for The Shadow when that bullet-dodger came. With narrowed eyes, Shark watched from the stairs.
Those minutes in Henshew's apartment had been brief but rapid. The minutes that Shark waited were few, but interminably long.
In them, Shark could hear Henshew and the doorman coming out to investigate. Once they went into the apartment, The Shadow would move out. Shark grinned at the pleasant thought. There was only one way The Shadow could come, right now; that was from the kitchenette door.
Shark steadied his gun in that direction, watching for the slightest streak of blackness.
Something cold pressed Shark's neck. Its frigid touch streaked down his yellow spine. A fierce, contemptuous whisper sounded in his ear. The murderer's gun hand loosened; his revolver thudded.
Impossible though it was, The Shadow had come up the stairs behind him. The black-clad master had outwitted Shark at the game of silent ambush!
THROUGH a window from Henshew's apartment, to one on the floor below, such had been The Shadow's simple effective strategy. Deprived of his protecting crew, Shark Meglo had became The Shadow's prisoner.
Forced to his feet, Shark stood with upraised hands, as The Shadow moved him forward toward the main hallway that fronted on Henshew's apartment. Shark knew what The Shadow intended.
He was going to turn him over to other captors, who would hold him for the law. Shark knew what that would mean. The hot seat!
"I get it," snarled Shark, without turning his head. "You're going to hand me over! But what about Henshew -"
Shark heard The Shadow laugh. The yellow murderer chewed his lips. He had blabbed too much.
Maybe The Shadow would have handed him to Henshew! - thought Shark. That would have meant escape. It wouldn't after what Shark had just said.
First at the hallway corner, Shark saw the doorman and some persons who had come from other apartments. They had picked up revolvers in Henshew's apartment. They stared, gaping, at the sight of Shark advancing in surrender; for they did not discern The Shadow, that blackened, avenging form behind the killer.
Men raised their guns, to take over the prisoner. With bleary eyes, Shark saw that Henshew was absent.
That did not matter; Henshew could not help. Things looked bad for Shark Meglo.
They looked bad for Madden Henshew, too.
In his apartment, the crooked gem dealer had waited in the living room alcove. Others had gone outside.
Flattened thugs were listless and disinterested. No one was present to watch Henshew's actions at the bookcase. Greedily, Henshew pulled out volumes and slid up the hidden panel.
This time, it was Henshew's turn to view blankness, where he had expected the glitter of gems. He was seeing the vacancy that The Shadow had previously viewed in this very space. Henshew's hidden baubles were gone.
Crooks had not arrived in time to prevent their removal. The Shadow's battle had been a delayed action; the follow-up of previous operations.
Madden Henshew stared at the rifled nest. Mechanically, he closed the panel and put the books back in place. With gritted teeth, he picked up a revolver that lay upon the floor. Quivering as he moved along, Henshew was gripped by one dominating thought.
The master-crook wanted to meet The Shadow. He was to have that wish much sooner than he expected.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE WRONG HUNT
WHEN Madden Henshew reached the hallway, he stopped there, riveted. His astoundment was greater than a minute ago. It seemed plausible that The Shadow could have taken the hidden gems; but the willing surrender of Shark Meglo was inconceivable.
It was then that Henshew guessed the truth. Some one was standing past Shark, forcing the killer forward. Shark was a prisoner of The Shadow. Henshew's revolver seemed to freeze in his hand. He could not have pulled the trigger if he had tried.
Henshew was as helpless as Shark. With the killer's body as a shield, The Shadow could mow down anyone who started trouble.
At that moment, Henshew felt sure his game was up. The Shadow knew too much. Henshew wanted to dodge back into the apartment. He realized that he could be instantly trapped there. Nothing that Henshew could think up, would serve in this emergency.
Chance provided, where schemes failed.
Before Shark had advanced another reluctant step, there was a clang from the elevator door. Looking straight along the hall, Henshew was facing the elevator. He saw its occupants; The Shadow could not.
The Shadow's back was toward the elevator.
"Get him!" shrieked Henshew, his cry spontaneous. "Shoot him down! The man in black!"
There were two policemen in the car - beat-pounders that the elevator operator had summoned. They did not recognize The Shadow as someone who sided with th
e law. They heard Henshew's cry as one of authority. They saw a big gun in The Shadow's fist. The weapon was pressed against the neck of a man whose face they could not spy. They took Shark for a victim, not a killer.
Shark was almost as quick as Henshew, for Shark was speedy when it came to self-preservation. He took a forward pitch to the floor, to get away from The Shadow's aim and give Henshew a chance to fire. It was then that Henshew really saw The Shadow and caught the glint of the master-fighter's burning eyes.
Henshew had the chance he wanted: to shoot it out with The Shadow. Like Shark. Henshew was lucky not to try. He did a dive of his own, back into the apartment.
If The Shadow had been dealing with Henshew and Shark alone, he could have finished the conspirators with ease. There were others, though, with whom The Shadow had no quarrel; and as luck had it, they were allying themselves against him. The bluecoats were leaping from the elevator. The Shadow had to get away from them.
WHEELING, The Shadow met one patrolman and shoved his gun hand upward. The other fired, but his bullet was wild, for he did not want to clip his companion.
The Shadow heaved the first officer toward the second, tangling them for the moment. The move carried him away from the passage to the stairway.
That was unfortunate. Men in the hall were blazing shots. They were springing forward to battle the dim figure that bobbed so swiftly. The elevator man pounced for The Shadow. The fellow went sprawling from a quick thrust; with a sudden turn, The Shadow made for the stairs.
Shouts greeted him. Apartment attendants were arriving, two more officers with them. Again, there was Henshew's shout:
"Get him! The man in black!"
Guns blazed as The Shadow cut through the rear of Henshew's apartment. Men came through to cut him off; The Shadow began to spill them. One was Henshew; The Shadow took a terrific slug at the crook's skull. Another man's arm intervened. Henshew dived away.
Shark was at the doorway. He aimed for The Shadow. Quickly, The Shadow blazed shots at the killer.
Again, grabbing arms spoiled his aim; but Shark did a duck when bullets ripped the door frame beside him. Safe though the fight might be for others, it was bad business for Henshew or Shark to seek battle with The Shadow.
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