The Shadow - The Shadow Unmasks Part 10

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 TheShadow'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 s.p.a.ce. 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 the 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 pa.s.sage 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 besidehim. Safe though the fight might be for others, it was bad business for Henshew or Shark to seek battle with The Shadow.

The net result was badly against The Shadow. His pa.s.s at Henshew, his shots at Shark, seemed proof that he must be a raiding criminal. Lashing back and forth through Henshew's gloomy dining room, The Shadow was hard pressed by fighters who tried to down him with clubs and guns. Only the press of numbers helped The Shadow; for the amateur brawlers were getting in the way of police guns.

Piling one man upon another, The Shadow suddenly cleared a path; but it led only to the window.

He went through the frame, gla.s.s and all, with a crash that seemed to head him for the street below. The Shadow was counting upon an outside cornice that he had used before. He clutched it; swung down and gained a window of the floor below.

Even then, The Shadow's path was not clear. Police had arrived in the rear street; they were piling up into the apartment house.

Shouts were given by pursuers who raced to the floor beneath Henshew's. They saw The Shadow on the stairway, as he came through. Cut off one floor above the street level, The Shadow took to another apartment. He reached a window and crawled along a wider ledge, to reach the corner of the building.

THOUGH The Shadow had chosen the most obscure direction and had slipped completely from sight, he had reached a limit. He could gain nothing by traveling farther, and retreat was hopeless.

Searchers were all along the street. Lights were appearing at windows. Congregating police were scouring all parked cars. They stopped a taxi; its driver backed it into a little pa.s.sage by the corner of the apartment house.

"Anybody try to get into this cab, bud?"

"n.o.body." The voice was Moe's. "Any harm in my staying here?"

"Not if you don't mind us looking in and out of your hack. If you want to go chasing fares, you'd better get started."

Moe had stalled the motor. He jockeyed with the starter, hoping that he might catch some flash from The Shadow, wherever his chief was.

As cops shifted into the pa.s.sage, Moe heard a low, sibilant whisper, that seemed to come from somewhere above. An officer hurried back with the question: "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The policeman looked around, saw no one. Moe started the motor and reached above his head. Moe's cab was of the latest type, with the sliding top that opened above the rear seat, in sunny weather. He slid the roof s.p.a.ce wide. As the cab moved slowly forward, a figure swished from the ledge just above it.

Though the landing was a light one, Moe felt the slight jar. He swung the cab out into the street and drove away. Officers who had looked into the taxi allowed it to pa.s.s.

Meanwhile, another hand was sliding the roof shut. The last-minute pa.s.senger was obscured in the interior darkness. Moe heard the low whisper of The Shadow, ordering him where to drive. The cab went past the last searchers, just as lights shone from the apartment house window, at the very corner where The Shadow had been.

Henshew's apartment was deserted except for two men. One was Henshew; Shark was with him. Shark had started to join the searchers in their hunt for The Shadow. It was Henshew who held him back. As they stood by a window, Henshew gave advice that Shark heard in the darkness.

"You can't get by with it, Shark. You've got to get out of here! Pick a new hideaway."

"But The Shadow's making a getaway, chief -"

"He's made it!" Henshew's tone was rueful. "Those dubs will never bag him. What's more, he's grabbed the jewels!"

Shark greeted that news with an ugly oath. Henshew was cooler. The master-crook was thinking ahead.

"The game's through, Shark," he said. "We could call it quits if we still had the gems."

"You'll never get those sparklers from The Shadow."

"Perhaps not." Henshew's tone was speculative. "He might drop them somewhere. If he does, I can reclaim them. If not -"

Henshew paused. Shark knew that an idea was due. He heard Henshew's low, gritted laugh.

"We can get something better," declared Henshew. "Leave it to me, Shark. I've got a plan for a final clean-up that will make up for the gems and give us cash besides. One that The Shadow will never guess is coming, after this."

HENSHEW nudged Shark out to the stairway. On the way, Shark told him where the new hide-out would be. He said, though, that he was not going straight there. It would be better to shake off any bulls who might encounter him on the way. Henshew approved.

"You'd better show yourself, Shark," he said, "so there'll be no doubt that you were here. That will give me the alibi I need. Remember, though, The Shadow knows a lot. If you run into him -"

"I'll croak him!" Shark showed new boldness. "And if I find any other guy that looks wise, I'll do the same for him. Count on me, chief. If you've got another job all figured, I'm for it."

Shark went down the stairs. He saw a clear path through the lobby, with taxis on the front street. The chase had not caused commotion there. That was what Shark wanted. He made a dash through to the front, leaped into a cab and shoved a gun against the driver's neck. The cab started in a hurry.

Arriving police saw Shark and recognized him in the light; but he was away before they could halt him.

Shark abandoned the cab a few blocks away and jumped aboard a parked coupe of his own. He had a long start on the patrol cars that followed.

Moe's cab, meanwhile, had reached the hotel where Kent Allard was a guest. Commissioner Weston's big official car had just pulled up in front when the cab rounded the corner. The Shadow dropped off at the place he wanted. He had counted on Weston being a trifle late.

When Weston and Clyde Burke were admitted to the suite by one of the Xinca servants, Kent Allard appeared sleepily from a bedroom. He was attired in a dressing gown; but he became alert as he shook hands with his visitors. He invited them to stay an hour or so. The visit, however, proved a very brief one.

The tingling of the telephone bell was answered by Allard. He heard a query for Weston and turned the phone over to the commissioner. Weston showed excitement at the news he received.

"An attempted robbery at Henshew's apartment!" exclaimed Weston. "Inspector Cardona had just arrived there. I must go at once! Sorry to leave you, Allard. Perhaps Burke will stay -"

"Burke is a newspaper man," smiled Allard. "He would probably prefer to accompany you, commissioner."

Clyde gave a nod of thanks for Allard's suggestion. He departed with Weston. Kent Allard remained alone in his chair by the window, staring out over the city. His eyes could note the reflection of the darkened pane. He saw the Xincas retire to their quarters, knowing that their master preferred to remain alone.

The whispered tone that came from Allard's lips was one that the Indians had never heard him utter in the jungle. It was like an echo of a strident mirth those same lips had delivered tonight.

The subdued sound was the laugh of The Shadow.

CHAPTER XIX. FACTS FOR THE LAW.

THROUGH his penetrative knowledge of Madden Henshew's methods, The Shadow had put a bad crimp in the crime-leader's game. Moreover, The Shadow had gained insight into the plans of Michael Chanbury, the only other person who had been keen enough to suspect Henshew as the man behind robberies and murders.

Tonight, Henshew had received a sheer jolt, through the loss of the gems that had been his chief stock in trade. By lurking at Henshew's until the crook returned, The Shadow had impressed his ident.i.ty on both Henshew and Shark Meglo.

There could be no doubt in their minds regarding the removal of the jewels. They would figure that those gems, in the possession of The Shadow, were beyond reclaim.

All that Henshew had gained was a temporary breathing spell. By posing as an intended victim who had luckily escaped death, Henshew would be firmly established with the law. Later, under pretext of an extended business trip, Henshew could decamp entirely from New York. In such event, Shark would join him elsewhere.

There remained one opportunity, however, that Henshew would never let pa.s.s. The Shadow had left Henshew the chance to launch Shark Meglo into one more crime; a stroke that would lift the total of their secret wealth to a level higher than ever before.

Henshew would go after Chanbury's uncut diamonds.

The move could not come tonight. Henshew was tied up with the law, giving details of the havoc at his apartment. Shark was dodging the police, shaking off trailers while he sought a new hide-out. Crime seemed settled for tonight.

Tomorrow, with full reports at his disposal, The Shadow could prepare against Henshew's last campaign.

Until then, he preferred to play the quiet part of Kent Allard.

Freakish chance sometimes disturbed a waiting game. On this occasion The Shadow could foresee nolikely combination of circ.u.mstances that would cause trouble before tomorrow. Every one who might figure in later events was present in their proper place. Whatever their purposes, all should stay fixed.

It happened, however, that criss-crossed events were due to produce new tragedy; one wherein The Shadow would not intervene.

AT eleven o'clock, Michael Chanbury was aroused from bed by a servant's raps upon his door. There was a visitor very anxious to see him. The caller was Jim Tyrune.

Chanbury told the servant to take the detective to the portrait room. Donning a dressing gown and slippers, Chanbury joined Tyrune there.

"Why have you come so late?" queried Chanbury. "If you wanted to see me, you should have called earlier. I have been home all evening, with not a thing to do. After I have gone to bed, you arrive."

"I've got big news, Mr. Chanbury," explained Tyrune, breathlessly. "It couldn't wait! There was a robbery at Henshew's apartment - at least, an attempted one!"