The two locked in a grip. The advantage was with Tressler. He forced Cardona against the parapet. He tried to lift the detective’s body. Cardona put up a struggle. Gunshots sounded. Neither heeded them.
Logan Mungren and Perry Harton had reached the penthouse door. There, they had swung into plain view, confident that they had The Shadow helpless before them. That proved to be their final error.
As the two lieutenants aimed to riddle the huddled form of black, a single arm came up in front of a pair of burning eyes. The Shadow’s automatic roared within the echoing passage. Wounded, with one arm helpless, The Shadow still was steady in his aim.
Perry Harton collapsed before he could fire a shot. Logan Mungren pressed the trigger just as a bullet winged him in the body. He staggered and his shot sizzed through the brim of The Shadow’s hat.
THE struggle still persisted by the parapet. Joe Cardona was upon the brink. He was struggling against a powerful fiend. Though he fought back with all his might, his cause was hopeless. Cardona could not stay this fate alone.
The Shadow lay limp upon the floor of the passage. Then his figure moved. Laboriously it reached the door. It could move no further. With a last effort, The Shadow sprawled across the threshold. Lying on his side, his keen eyes saw the struggle by the parapet.
Cardona was on the very brink. He was gripping with his last and most futile hold. Seconds only kept him from the terrible fate that awaited him.
The Shadow’s good arm swung slowly. Its elbow steadied against the tiling of the roof. The automatic barked.
With that effort, The Shadow slumped. His body lay motionless. But at the same time, another felt the effect of the final stroke. Felix Tressler staggered. Cardona, clawing at the man’s shoulder, encountered dripping blood.
Joe did not know what had happened. He only knew that the struggle had become equal; that it was turning to his advantage.
Tressler faltered. Cardona, with a sudden surge of strength gained opportunity. He twisted Tressler back against the roof.
One of Tressler’s arms fell limp. Cardona dodged the other. While Tressler’s hand clawed at empty air, Cardona lunged against him. The result was startling. Tressler’s body gave. It toppled backward.
Cardona caught himself upon the parapet. He almost followed as Tressler’s body plunged. Staring, the detective saw the fiend’s form go hurtling downward. It struck against the sloping roof. Amid a shower of slate, it sped at an angle, as though on a mammoth slide.
The force of the fall shot Tressler’s form out through space, clear to the other side of the street. Whirling, the bulky body — now no more than a pygmy form to Cardona’s gaze — went crashing through the marquee of the old theater, shattering and splintering glass to fragments.
A blotch on the sidewalk; that was all that remained of Felix Tressler, the master fiend who had ruled the circle of crime.
WHILE Cardona lay panting upon the parapet, The Shadow had arisen. He was leaning against the wall of the passage in the penthouse. A door clanged. Footsteps sounded in the patio.
The Shadow turned, too weak to meet new enemies. His eyes blazed as he recognized the approaching men. Clyde Burke and Cliff Marsland had doubled on their trail. Police had hurried up to the hotel. This was the only outlet for The Shadow’s agents — an outlet of escape.
Cliff and Clyde heard the command of The Shadow’s whisper. They hastened to his aid. With one man on each side, The Shadow staggered forward. The trio gained the service elevator which the remnants of Tressler’s horde had used to reach the towering penthouse.
When Joe Cardona came into the penthouse, he found only forms of dead and dying crooks upon the floor. There was no sign of The Shadow. As Joe neared the fountain in the patio, a door clanged open. The second elevator had been pressed into service.
Inspector Timothy Klein was in the car. With him was Police Commissioner Ralph Weston, highest official of the force. They leaped forward to greet the detective. Their questions came with eager gasps. Detective Joe Cardona was the hero.
The circle of death was ended. All Cardona had to tell was the details. He knew that the credit would be his. Yet Cardona knew that all the glory belonged to the master fighter who had saved his life and left him here to gain the fame.
The Shadow had riddled the circle of death. He had reached its ruler, Felix Tressler. His shot had dealt the mortal wound which had enabled Joe Cardona to thrust the dying man over the parapet.
Aided by his trusted agents, The Shadow had departed. Recovered from his wound, he soon again would be prepared to wage grim battle against men of crime.
The Shadow had ended the circle of death!