Cars swung left from beneath an elevated structure. They rolled through secluded streets. At last they came to an isolated spot where they could park unnoticed.
Lucky stopped the sedan. The other cars pulled up. Climbing from behind the wheel, Lucky signaled. He started across the street. The others followed.
One block through another quiet street. Then Lucky picked a space between two buildings. Mobsters filed through. They came to the rear of a large house.
While mobsmen clustered, Lucky worked on a back door. It yielded.
With nine men at his heels, Lucky motioned forward through a darkened kitchen. They came to a huge, silent hallway. There, Lucky opened a door and revealed a flight of cellar stairs. He started men moving down — among them, Cliff and Hawkeye. Lucky stopped two gorillas at the rear of the mob.
“Listen,” he whispered. “You birds slide upstairs. First door on the right is a filing room. A guy’s in there we want to get. Plug him; then head down here.”
The gorillas nodded. Lucky watched them steal toward the carpeted stairway. He followed down the cellar steps and joined the others. Using a flashlight, Lucky picked his way to the center of the cellar.
There he found a light switch. He pressed it and pointed into a coal bin that was now illuminated by a single bulb.
Lucky noted two boxes stacked in the corner of the bin. He chuckled as he pointed them out to the mob.
He saw ready revolvers in the hands of his underlings. The crew would do for a firing squad.
“See that lower box?” quizzed Lucky, in a snarled tone. “We’re going to drill it — all together — because there’s a mug inside it. We’ll load it with lead before we drag it out of here.
“I’ll tell you why. Because the guy that’s in that box is tough, even if he is tied up and wired so he can’t get out. The guy in that bottom box is The Shadow!”
GORILLAS stood astounded. Hawkeye shot a wild glance at Cliff. He caught a grim nod from his companion.
Cliff turned his automatic close against his hip, covering Lucky. Hawkeye was ready to open on the rest of the mob. Then came sounds from above that made Lucky hold up a restraining hand.
Shots from the second floor. Quick shots that came in muffled succession. Lucky chuckled at this message from the two torpedoes whom he had sent to the second floor.
“They’ve finished the mug upstairs,” he announced. “That’s all we’ve been waiting for. Open up. On the lower box. Drill it, everybody—”
Mobsters wheeled about. As they did, one gorilla leaped suddenly upon Cliff and sent The Shadow’s agent sprawling to the floor. The mobsman had spotted Cliff covering Lucky.
Hawkeye wheeled at the attack. Another gorilla piled upon him as he aimed for Lucky.
Shots roared through the coal bin. Lucky, not noting Cliff or Hawkeye, had opened fire on the lower box. Other mobsters joined with him. Their bullets riddled the wooden-walled target.
Then, with the resounding echoes came a burst of terrific laughter. A wild, outlandish peal of mirth that challenged those who had dispatched the volley of their revolvers.
Wild-eyed mobsters looked up. The lid of the top box had swung open. Down toward the would-be killers were peering eyes that burned like fire.
Gloved hands were aiming mammoth automatics. A collared cloak, a shrouding hat brim covered the face of the mighty foe, save for the eyes that gleamed upon the startled mobsters.
The Shadow had given snarling killers a chance to loose their fire. Safe in the upper box, he had waited to deal death to those who had tried to murder him.
Unbound, no longer a prisoner, The Shadow had chosen an unexpected spot from which to answer the first barrage.
CHAPTER XXIII. LUCKY IS LUCKY
EVEN as The Shadow loomed vengeful from his improvised turret, the burst of an automatic came from the door of the coal bin. Cliff Marsland, rolling free from the mobster who had slugged him, had taken aim in return.
The mobster was leveling his revolver as Cliff fired. The Shadow’s agent beat him to the shot. Then, coming up, Cliff aimed for Hawkeye’s assailant. This fellow, swinging, was quicker than Cliff. The Shadow’s agent would have lost this second combat but for an interruption.
Roars from The Shadow’s automatics. The first bullets from those guns were aimed toward Cliff’s new assailant. The gorilla sprawled, while others — Lucky among them — went diving through the entrance of the coal bin.
Mobsters, as they dived, sought spots from which to return The Shadow’s fire. Booms from the automatics launched clipping bullets that sent two gorillas sprawling. Then, as The Shadow picked his targets, Cliff and Hawkeye threw him their aid.
With a quick swing of his arm, Cliff rammed his automatic down on the gun hand of an aiming crook.
Hawkeye dived for Lucky Ortz and grappled with the leader of the band. The odds were ended.
Lucky and his mob totaled ten. The number had been reduced to eight when Lucky had sent two gorillas to get Harry Vincent. Cliff and Hawkeye, by their desertion, had dropped the total to six.
Cliff had spilled one; The Shadow had dropped one, then two. Four from six left only Lucky and a single gorilla. And Cliff, attacking the lone mobsman, had disarmed the fellow while The Shadow was aiming to meet the gorilla’s revolver.
Only Lucky remained. He was struggling toward the stairway, while Hawkeye battled him savagely. A tough fighter, Lucky was dragging the little man along. Cliff aimed; but he hesitated, afraid of hitting Hawkeye.
Then The Shadow came vaulting from the upper box. He landed on the heap of coal and sprang to the door of the bin, to join with Cliff. The Shadow arrived just as Lucky and Hawkeye went struggling out of sight, up the stairs.
A figure came tumbling, crashing downward. At the same moment, footsteps pounded upward. The door slammed at the head of the stairs. Cliff leaped forward to find Hawkeye coming to his feet at the bottom of the steps. The little man grinned sourly.
Lucky had pitched him loose. Half groggy from his tumble, Hawkeye nearly collapsed as Cliff caught him.
Then came a hissed command as The Shadow swished by and took to the steps in pursuit of Lucky.
Helping Hawkeye along with him, Cliff followed The Shadow up to the ground floor.
WHEN Cliff and Hawkeye arrived in the big hall, they found that Lucky had escaped. The Shadow was standing there; toward him was coming a man from the floor above. It was Harry Vincent, an automatic in his right hand.
“They started into the filing room,” reported Harry. “Only two of them, so I opened fire from the anteroom of Delhugh’s study. Both wounded. Here are their guns.”
The Shadow’s laugh whispered through the hall. Understanding came to Cliff Marsland. Somehow — Cliff was recalling Lucky’s statements to the mob — The Shadow had been captured and stowed in that lower box.
Harry must have made a search. In so doing, he had found and released The Shadow. Knowing that mobsters would be coming for their kill, The Shadow had adopted the ruse of entering the upper box, garbed with cloak and hat from his briefcase, ready with the automatics that Delhugh had not removed.
Harry, in turn, had been waiting to turn the game on others. He had used a lurking spot upstairs to spring an ambush on crooks who might be dispatched to get him. The Shadow had planned well. He had counted on Cliff and Hawkeye being with the crew that came here.
Lucky had escaped through the rear of the mansion. Cliff wondered why The Shadow had not followed him. The explanation came. As Cliff and Harry watched, the cloaked form began to sway. Harry caught The Shadow and supported him.
Still jarred by his two-story fall from Delhugh’s study anteroom, The Shadow had fought on nerve alone.