The Shadow’s hand relaxed. An odd laugh sounded from the lips that looked like Jerry Laffan’s. The Shadow stepped forward. He placed his hands upon Charg; with a thrust, he sent the figure sprawling backward behind the pedestal. Yanking open the top of the big box that had served Charg as a throne, The Shadow stared at what he saw within.
Phonograph disks, arranged on separate stacks. Machinery; a telephonic hook-up. These were the contents of the bulky pedestal. Staring beyond, The Shadow again surveyed the form that he had cast from its pedestal. The arms of Charg had swung at an odd angle. Wires were running from the figure to the box.
The Shadow had uncovered an amazing fact. Charg’s killers had been robots — mechanical men that did unrelenting work. But they had needed human agents: Daper, Laffan, Quinton, to place them where they could kill.
Those humans had taken orders from Charg. They had brought him their reports. The had feared him as their terrible master. But they had never suspected the strange truth.
Charg, the fiend, was a mechanical hook-up. The master of humans was no more alive than were the metal killers whom his minions placed. Charg, whom The Shadow alone had dared to face, was himself a robot!
The Shadow had gained his meeting with Charg, only to learn this incredible fact. Instead of a living foe to face, The Shadow had found a waxwork figure.
And now The Shadow stood within the lair of Charg. A living being in the den of a mechanical monster, he must face the fate that awaited those who lingered with Charg!
CHAPTER XX. TITANS OF STEEL
STILLNESS reigned in the abode of Charg. The Shadow, viewing the strange scene, was waiting for some stroke to occur. Nothing happened. A laugh came from the lips that resembled those of Jerry Laffan; it was incongruous, that laugh, as it shivered through the triangular room.
Jerry Laffan could never have uttered it. Hence the laugh proved that The Shadow no longer saw the need for hiding his identity. Minutes passed. To an ordinary person, the suspense would have been fearful. To The Shadow, it was welcome.
This lair was a trap. That was evident. The trap, to be in keeping with the robot figure of Charg, must be a mechanical device. If it had been timed to spring, its action would have come. These fleeting minutes proved that there was no stroke that would act of its own accord.
Until The Shadow sought to escape, there would be no danger. Once he tried to leave this tomblike room, some force would act to obstruct him. Knowing the strength of Charg’s killers, The Shadow realized that the test would be severe.
Two hours remained before Jerry Laffan was due to meet Bart Daper. Whether or not The Shadow might seek to keep the appointment, there at least was time for cautious procedure. If murder lay in the offing, it was not due to strike immediately. The Shadow had complete chance to study his own position.
The intruder who had disguised himself as Laffan moved toward the overturned screen. There, he examined the interior of the big box upon which the dummy figure had rested. Through brief, but active inspection, The Shadow made prompt discoveries.
The records that were in the massive pedestal were labeled. They were set in separate racks; each had its own peculiar operating mechanism. The Shadow could see that certain ones would slide into position, according to the rings of the outer bell.
This was why Charg gave his minions numbers. The brain behind Charg — the living person who had arranged this strange den — had never been compelled to visit the lair after his records had been set.
There was one complete set for Quinton, arranged for number one. A second for Daper; a third for Laffan. Another, with a single record, used, was labeled Talbot; while a fourth was marked for Randham.
Besides these were special records; also emergency levers which served a cunning purpose. They formed connections with a telephone receiver. This had been converted from an extension in the apartment above. It meant that any time Charg might wish to change arrangements, he could do so by calling the apartment number on the telephone!
The Shadow saw how clicks across the wire could put the mechanism in operation. This was the way that Charg had used to dispatch his agents on their quest for The Shadow. All the apparatus in the big box was simple; the only complicated phase was the involved scheming that some master mind had used in working out his campaigns.
From anywhere in the country, simply by calling over the telephone, that insidious master crook could put his machinery to work. Charg, the figure whom the minions dreaded, had always been within this room.
His moving arms; his turning head; these were mechanical actions.
THE voice of Charg? His conversations with his henchmen? That was the simplest, yet the most subtle part. When a visitor like Laffan came here, the ring of the bell at the outer door set the figure of Charg in motion. A record shifted to the turntable in the box. The mechanical arm of Charg pressed the switch that raised the door.
The record, started, was ready with the raspy words that greeted the intruder. Then the record stopped, automatically. The factor that started it again was the voice of the intruder himself!
Even The Shadow had believed that he had talked with Charg. Actually, he had talked with a revolving disk. Charg’s coming statements had awaited The Shadow’s portion of the conversation. A microphone, at the front of the big box, showed how voice vibrations actuated the delicate mechanism.
Such was The Shadow’s finding. His problem now, was to leave the lair of Charg. Free from this place, he could seek the master crook who had designed the strange den; the real brain in back of murder.
The Shadow calculated. He knew that he must face great danger. He was confident, however, that Charg’s den would not be slated for destruction. It was too valuable an adjunct to its maker.
The Shadow found the switch that controlled the door. He pressed it. There was no response. His attack upon the screen had broken the electrical contact that made the mechanism work. The Shadow approached the outer door.
The barrier had settled in grooves of metal. It would not yield to ordinary attack. The Shadow had a measure that might settle the barrier; but before he attempted it, he looked about for some less difficult measure of escape.
Drawing an automatic from beneath his coat, he approached the door on the right side. This was the door to which Talbot had gone, at Charg’s bidding. It was behind that barrier that a mechanical killer lurked. Talbot had met a speedy death and the door had dropped when he had fallen. Did The Shadow suspect the lurking menace?
His actions showed it as he neared the door. The Shadow paused, five feet away. He uttered no sound as he moved slowly closer to the portal. It was still beyond his reach.
Click!
The door shot upward. Some mechanical device had been put in operation at the time The Shadow had smashed Charg’s screen. The Shadow’s approach — nothing more — had loosed the mechanism. The lights of the room remained illuminated. The Shadow stopped short as he viewed the figure which stood revealed in the alcove.
THIS was no collapsible robot. It was a gigantic murder machine, a device that stood eight feet high. It was equipped with rounded legs of steel, set upon massive feet. Its body was a heavy cylinder; its head, a smaller one. As with the killer that The Shadow had met before, this huge robot possessed four arms.
But in comparison, this new menace had fully thrice the power of the other. It had slain Talbot without moving from its placement. Actuated to meet the present emergency, its attack upon The Shadow differed. Something clicked within the central cylinder. A Goliath of solid steel, the massive robot lumbered forward.