The Shadow had spied the old servant’s action. Though ready with his own weapon, the cloaked warrior had waited. The last death had been in the making; to Lester belonged the privilege of its delivery.
Fiercely, the servant had gained vengeance. He had killed the man who had murdered his old master. The Shadow’s shot had not been needed. Already, Louis Vandrow was sprawled upon the floor, coughing out his evil life.
Turning, The Shadow swept toward the outer door. His form blended with blackness as Harry Vincent came forward to join the others. Harry realized now that Lester had eliminated him purely because he had caught him spying on Milton Claverly. Harry’s timely aid in the battle had squared matters. His part was to remain here, as Milton Claverly’s friend.
Lester stood in the middle of the room. While others were half bewildered by the sudden end of the struggle, the servant still found a duty to perform. Dropping to the tiled floor, Lester fixed his gaze on the dying face of Louis Vandrow. Then, with a grim croak, the servant pressed the switch that was set deep in the floor.
Clang!
Muffled, far away, came the message of the bells. Louis Vandrow heard the distant sound. Those bells were meant for him!
Dong! — Dong!—
The dirge continued. Bells of doom were tolling the death of Louis Vandrow as they had marked a knell for the ears of David Claverly. With a final cough, the lawyer gave a writhe and then lay still. His career of evil was ended.
Yet the bells kept on as Lester held the switch. Triumph showed upon the servant’s withered visage as his bright, sparkling eyes still stared toward the rugged face of Louis Vandrow, that countenance that death had frozen forever.
OUTSIDE the mansion, the moonlight showed a tall, spectral figure striding toward the road that led past the hill. Burning eyes reflected the sky’s glow as they turned upward. The Shadow saw the cupola of the tower — that spot from which bells of doom were toning their final peals, a paean of triumph that marked the death of a superfiend.
The clamor ended. Echoes faded from the summit of the bell-tower. Then a new sound rose clear upon the night. More strident than the brazen clangor of the bells; more terrible than the monotone that had preceded it, the laugh of The Shadow burst clear through moonlit air.
Sardonic tones rose to a weird crescendo. The laughter burst with shuddering mockery. The laugh ended eerily. The wooded heights above sent back their echoes in uncanny mirth. Seemingly, a final throb formed a ghoulish whisper from the tower itself.
Right had triumphed. Truth had gained its claim. A maker of evil had perished, hard on the heels of his evil henchmen. Crime had ended with the battle in the crypt. Bells of doom had rung forth their last message.
And The Shadow, victorious, had laughed in triumph!