The Shadow - Gray Fist Part 13

"All will be well, Gray Fist. The Shadow will be yours to take. I have spoken with him, and he has asked only that you abide by your agreement. The prisoners must be released."

A fierce snort came from Gray Fist's nostrils. The fiend waved his hand toward the prisoners and laughed.

"Why should I release them?" he queried. "I tricked The Shadow once, but he escaped me. I can trick him surely, now that he is my prisoner."

"Your promise," came the solemn tones of Yat Soon.

"What are promises?" sneered Gray Fist. "They are made to be broken." "My promise to you?"

Gray Fist stared at the blinking yellow face. His challenge was a menace.

"You have kept it!" snarled the villain. "You cannot change it now. I have means to back the promises that I exact. Look about you and see!"

Yat Soon stared at the toughened faces of Ruff Shefflin and his mobsters. All had drawn their revolvers.

They awaited any order that Gray Fist might give.

"Forget your guards, Yat Soon," chuckled Gray Fist. "My men are stronger. I have others, below. They will aid if necessary. At the same time, you have nothing to fear, provided that you do as I command.

Bring forth The Shadow!"

Yat Soon paused beside the wall. Gray Fist saw the Chinaman's hesitation. He scowled.

"I have promised The Shadow," protested Yat Soon, "that you would abide by your terms. These men"-he indicated Cliff and Harry-"are his. You brought them here to release them -"

"I brought them here to deceive you!" interrupted Gray Fist. "That purpose has been served. Any promise that you made to The Shadow is nothing. Come! Bring him from his prison!"

With these words, Landis Glas...o...b..drew his own revolver. He clenched it in his gray fist, and turned the muzzle toward the figure of Yat Soon. He motioned to the mobsters. They trained their guns on the panel beyond which lay The Shadow's prison.

"We want him alive," a.s.serted Gray Fist. "But if he makes a move, he must die! Be ready-all of you.

Come, Yat Soon! Open the panel, before I shoot you where you stand!"

Feebly, Yat Soon pressed the switch. He stepped back by the wall. Gray Fist and all his mobsters were covering the opened panel. Their guns sank; their faces showed amazement. Even Gray Fist was astonished by what he saw.

Seated in a thronelike chair, in the center of the prison room, was Yat Soon! The very Chinaman who had opened the paneled door was now before them! His eyes were staring with a strange wrath. His commanding gaze brooked all attention!

THE throned man spoke. His words came in stern, unanswerable terms, that rang out in bitter accusation. Not one of the invaders moved. They were like listening statues as they heard the statement of Yat Soon.

"I am Yat Soon," announced the Chinaman. "You came to me, Gray Fist, to exact a promise. I agreed to do your bidding. I promised you The Shadow as your prisoner.

"That was an honorable task-the keeping of a promise. I learned that you had made a promise to The Shadow. Therefore, I expected you to keep it. You have shown that you lied. You have no honor.

Moreover, you do not trust the ones who treat you with the honor which is not your due.

"You have brought henchmen here to make sure that I would keep my promise. That action releases me from my oath to you. I repudiate all friendship. Nevertheless, I shall keep my promise.

"I shall give you what I promised. I shall give you The Shadow. Had you come here alone, you could have had him as your prisoner, unarmed. You chose to come with men prepared for battle. You yourself have made your choice. You have the armed strength that you need. The Shadow is there"-Yat Soonextended a pointing finger-"where you can take him. You have your opportunity!"

All eyes turned from the prison room. As they did, the panel began to slide down. It dropped so rapidly that not a mobster could turn back to prevent it. Yat Soon, beyond the door, was safe.

But he was only one Yat Soon! He was the second whom the invaders had encountered. Again eyes turned across the room, to the spot where the first Yat Soon had moved the moment that he had released the panel.

Gray Fist and his henchmen faced the yellow-visaged Mongol who was the duplicate of the one upon the throne beyond the panel. Their eyes were ahead of their guns, for their astonishment had not yet left them. The first Yat Soon had taken all attention by revealing the second; the second had turned attention from himself by pointing to the first.

Doubt and bewilderment swept every brain within that room, until the actions came that proved the secret of this amazing duplication. The hands of the first Yat Soon were rising. From the folds of the maroon robe, they were drawing two automatics!

The golden dragons shimmered on the reddened cloth as the tones of a sinister merriment burst through the room. That mockery revealed the truth. From the lips of the first Yat Soon-the false Yat Soon-came the weird laugh of The Shadow!

The chilling tones were the explanation of the terms on which The Shadow and Yat Soon had worked.

The Shadow, as Yat Soon, had proposed to give himself up to Gray Fist. He had allowed the fiend fair opportunity to keep the promise which The Shadow had been given.

Gray Fist had shown himself a traitor. The Shadow had raised the panel that Yat Soon-listening there-might make the final decision and the just one.

Death to traitors! Death to betrayers! Such had been the maxim of Gray Fist. Yet he, the fiend, had acted as a traitor. He had betrayed a trust. In so doing, he had completed the fair understanding that had been made between The Shadow and Yat Soon.

Yat Soon's promise had been kept. The Shadow stood before Gray Fist. The supercrook was backed by a squad of mobsters. He had the power to take the prisoner he wanted.

But the laugh of The Shadow, rising strident as it reverberated through the square-walled room, told Gray Fist that his task was not ended!

Death to The Shadow! Gray Fist and his mobsters sought it. The Shadow's laugh defied them to deliver it!

CHAPTER XXIV. THE SHADOW STRIKES.

WITHIN the squared walls of Yat Soon's paneled room, The Shadow faced a concentrated ma.s.s of foemen. In all of his recent conflicts with hordes from the underworld, The Shadow had been forced to cope with odds.

This time, the shock troops of gangdom stood before him. These henchmen of Gray Fist were hand picked. They had come prepared for trouble with The Shadow. Gray Fist had antic.i.p.ated it.

Ruff Shefflin, toughest of gang leaders, was at the head of Gray Fist's minions. Snakes Blakey, the sneaking go-between who so far had evaded The Shadow's hand, stood by Ruff's side. With them half a dozen fighters. More than that, these evil men of crime were backed by the superfiend: Gray Fist! Yet The Shadow had wished this meeting. He had planned it with Yat Soon. The Shadow had played fair with the arbiter of Chinatown. Yat Soon, since he had listened through hidden slits in the prison panel, had washed his hands of Gray Fist. The Chinaman knew the fiend's perfidy. He had left this encounter to The Shadow and Gray Fist. It was of The Shadow's choosing. No obligations remained.

Perhaps Yat Soon thought that The Shadow was guided by folly. On the contrary, the wise old Chinaman may have had faith in The Shadow's prowess. But Yat Soon, in his judgment, was not one who interfered with quarrels that concerned no one but those involved. He had seen that a struggle lay between The Shadow and Gray Fist. He had decided to let the battle break.

Nevertheless, Yat Soon, in fulfilling his promise to The Shadow, had performed a pa.s.sive service that fitted well into The Shadow's plan. The amazement of the mobsters; the turning of attention; the final moment of revelation which came with the weird laugh-all these were factors upon which The Shadow had counted.

He was a being who lived in split seconds. In action, The Shadow had a swiftness that exceeded the speed of normal thought. Here, in Yat Soon's reception room, with a squad of dangerous men before him, The Shadow had no fear!

The opening roars of The Shadow's automatics formed a stern accompaniment to the crescendo of his terrifying laugh. While eerie mockery still echoed, The Shadow's mighty weapons blazed. Back to a paneled wall, The Shadow beat the first of his enemies to the shots.

Two gangsters tottered as leaden bullets found their human targets. These were the two nearest The Shadow. As the mobsters sprawled, The Shadow, still wearing the masklike visage of Yat Soon, swung along the wall. His move was a well contrived one.

Ruff Shefflin had aimed to kill. His bullet, discharged as The Shadow moved, missed the tall form in maroon. It flattened against the paneled wall, close beside the yellowed face of the false Yat Soon.

Another mobster was aiming. The Shadow's bullet picked him in the side. The gangster screamed as he fell. His wild arms clutched and grasped Ruff Shefflin. The gang leader lost his aim that he was seeking.

His second shot went wide.

Others were firing at The Shadow. As bullets whizzed, the being in red dropped almost to the floor.

Shots timed for the robed form again missed the target. A yell of triumph came from a gangster's throat.

The man had thought that he had dropped The Shadow. The mobster's cry ended as an automatic barked. Shefflin's henchman sprawled gurgling to the floor.

A huge splotch of deep red, crouched beside a panel, The Shadow was a menace that had proven its power. His rapid fire had thinned out the mobsters. Scattered bullets, fired wildly in return, had proven futile.

Behind a cordon of dropping gangsters stood two men. Gray Fist, a revolver in his clutch, was letting the others fight while he kept watch. Snakes Blakey, too, was standing waiting. He was ready to fight with his chief when occasion called for it. Both, however, thought The Shadow doomed.

Ruff Shefflin, breaking free from the grasp of the falling mobster, pounced forward, aiming as he came. A violent fighter, Ruff was ready to sound The Shadow's doom. The maroon-clad form, glistening with its golden dragons, rose to meet the fierce attack. Up came an automatic.

The Shadow's finger pressed while Ruff's was trembling. The automatic barked. Ruff Shefflin never released his bullet. His body swayed. A bulging look came in his eyes. He toppled forward toward TheShadow.

To those in back, Ruff's body seemed to poise as though an invisible force had held it. Then, from between the gang leader's arms and body, came two long hands projecting from red sleeves. The Shadow had gripped the gang leader's form. Ruff Shefflin, dying, had become The Shadow's shield!

IT was a master stroke of strategy: one for which The Shadow had played. Behind his human bulwark, The Shadow, backing toward the wall, sprayed leaden hail into the remaining mobsmen. Ruff Shefflin seemed to be moving mechanically forward as The Shadow drew him along.

Furiously, the mobsters sprang en ma.s.se. They wanted to seize their dying leader's form, to tear it away that they might slay The Shadow. Instead, they found themselves plunging into death. Each shot from The Shadow's automatics was timed to drop a mobster.

One man gained his goal. Leaping, he threw his arms around Ruff Shefflin's body. A blazing automatic dropped this last attacker. With a death grip, the last mobster sprawled carrying Ruff Shefflin's form down with him.

Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland had been groggy while they watched the fray. Joe Cardona, however, had dizzily responded to the tattoo of guns. Rising from the floor, the detective grappled with a wounded mobster and s.n.a.t.c.hed the man's revolver from his grasp.

Snakes Blakey saw the action. For an instant, the sneak's eyes turned to Cardona. Then, at a warning hiss from Gray Fist, Snakes saw Ruff Shefflin's barricading body fall. Before the sneak could fire, The Shadow sent a dooming bullet. Snakes wavered. His arm fell.

It was Gray Fist, alone save for a few helpless, wounded minions, who employed The Shadow's own strategy. The monster caught Snakes Blakey's body. Thrusting his revolver under the sneak's arm, Gray Fist fired.

The Shadow's left arm fell. His right, dropping a spent automatic, swept a new weapon from beneath the maroon robe. The Shadow's form was weaving sidewise; Gray Fist's next bullet missed its mark. The Shadow's laugh resounded.

While a crimson splotch began to form an odd tint on the left shoulder of the maroon robe, The Shadow, wounded, loosed his automatic's fire at the only target which was before him: the body of Snakes Blakey.

Riddling bullets crumpled the shield that Gray Fist had taken. As Snakes Blakey's form collapsed, a rending scream came from behind it. Sprawling, Gray Fist dropped to the floor. His revolver jounced from his grasp. His form lay half beneath the corpse of Snakes Blakey.

Joe Cardona, dizzily confused, stood leaning against the wall. The sudden sound of m.u.f.fled shots from without the square-walled room had no effect upon the detective. To The Shadow, however, they meant new battle.

Oblivious to his wound, disregarding the helplessness of his left arm, The Shadow sprang across the floor and pressed a hidden switch. The front panel rose. The Shadow leaped through it. Gangsters were in view.

Ruff Shefflin's reserve raiders had entered. Cowering Chinamen were resisting from the darkness of pa.s.sages. They saw The Shadow. They heard his piping words in the Chinese language. They took him for their leader, Yat Soon. THE automatic burst its thunderous shots straight into the ranks of the advancing gangsters. As mobsmen dropped, the Mongols, inspired by the action of the man they took for their leader, sprang forward to fire.

Mobsters broke and fled before the advancing Chinese. The bra.s.s barrier was dropping behind the false Yat Soon. Joe Cardona stared blankly at the closed panel. He could hear gunfire fading in the distance.

He knew that reenforcing gunmen had been stemmed.

Even yet, Cardona was in a daze. The fight had broken loose so suddenly that the detective had been unable to gather his wits. Joe had heard the laugh of The Shadow. It was a cry that he remembered from the past; from times when a being garbed in black had done yeoman service for the law.

But the only fighter that Joe had seen had been a maroon-robed Chinaman-the one who had gone forth from this room to repel a new attack. Joe knew that the sortie must have been successful.

Gun in hand, Cardona thought of his fellow prisoners. He looked toward Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland, still propped against the wall. He motioned them to rise. Wearily, they obeyed. As the rescued trio formed, Cardona was prepared to leave this place.

Then, to the detective's startled ears came an unexpected sound. Cardona turned his gaze across the room. His eyes became fixed. He stood motionless at sight of the menace which had risen from the dead.

Chuckling hoa.r.s.ely, Landis Glas...o...b..was standing above the prostrate body of Snakes Blakey. The fiendish financier was gory with blood, but it had come from his henchman's body, not his own.

With leveled revolver, Glas...o...b..was covering Cardona. The detective did not have a chance to raise the gun that he had wrested from a dying mobsmen. Cliff and Harry, too, were helpless.

Gray Fist still lived; his prisoners had not escaped his fiendish power!

CHAPTER XXV. THE TRIUMPH.

"FOOLS.".

Gray Fist chortled as he spat the word. The old fiend's face was livid. His looming hand, with the revolver in its clutch, formed a tight fist that threatened doom.

"You thought that I was dead." Gray Fist's tone was cold. "So did the other-the one who sought to rescue you. He has gone. Let him return. He will find the dead bodies of those whom he tried to save.

"I am Gray Fist. My enemies are within my clutch. I fear no one. My minions are dead. I shall find more.

I do not care if they are dead. You will soon be in the state which they now hold!"

Joe Cardona's hand was trembling. It was rising slowly. The detective dared not make a quick attack straight into the muzzle of Gray Fist's gun. The fiend, however, saw Joe's action.

Gray Fist was watching every one of the doomed trio. He was calculating in his manner. Numbed and groggy though they were, Cliff Marsland and Harry Vincent could feel the menace of Gray Fist's stare.

This evil man, triumphant, was more to be feared than a host of gangsters. Gray Fist had battled with The Shadow. He, alone, had managed to wound the fighter who had worn the attire of Yat Soon. Moreover, he had tricked The Shadow. Gray Fist had fallen as though he had been slain. His ruse had been deceptive. "One move"-Gray Fist's cold tone was addressed to Joe Cardona- "and you shall die."

The detective's hand dropped again. Gray Fist chortled. He held his finger on the trigger of his revolver.

"You shall die!" he repeated. "You-the first-before these others -"

Cardona saw a steady stare as the fiend ceased speaking. Cardona could not tell what caused it. Cliff Marsland, however, was able to throw a sidelong glimpse in the direction of Gray Fist's gaze.

Staring straight beyond Cardona's form, the fiend was watching a panel at the side of the room. The barrier was rising. Beyond it, however, was nothing but complete darkness. Confident that he held Cardona helpless, Gray Fist was watching. His gun, ready to fire beyond the detective, was waiting only until his eyes would see the form that he expected-the maroon-garbed figure of the false Yat Soon.

Gunfire had ceased from without. The Shadow, Gray Fist knew, could have reached this side panel through another pa.s.sage. To strike, however, The Shadow would have to show himself.

IT was then that an instinctive thought came to Cliff Marsland. Well did the agent realize that his master, The Shadow, had played the feigned part of Yat Soon. Well did Cliff know how The Shadow could approach a scene of danger.

Though he saw nothing, Cliff realized that the blackness beyond the panel was not the darkness of a pa.s.sage. That blotting gloom was caused by the form of The Shadow itself! The master had returned; before returning, he had donned his cloak and hat, which must have been waiting for him in some hidden spot outside this room!