The room seemed stuffy. Arment opened a window to an inner courtyard. He recrossed the room and opened his suitcase. He brought out a small packet of folded papers, which he laid upon a table.
Next he unlocked a table drawer, using an oddly-shaped key from a ring which he brought from his pocket. He took more papers from the drawer, added them to those on the table and delivered a satisfied smile.
Arment went through the letters that he had received from the clerk. One impressed him. He tore open the envelope and unfolded a sheet of paper. His mouth opened as his eyes stared.
Dropping the letter to the table, Dudley Arment reached for the telephone. His hand stopped before it had gained the instrument. A snarling voice brought the interruption. Arment looked up.
STANDING at the door of an inner room was a man in hat and overcoat. His eyes were shifting; his lips had a twitch. His right hand, shaking with a peculiar wobble, held a stub-nosed revolver.
The intruder had evidently entered before Arment had arrived. The sight of the revolver was disconcerting; the shake of the hand momentarily nullified Arment’s qualms. Another glance at the man’s face, however, convinced Dudley Arment that he faced a real menace.
“Don’t mind these shakes,” sneered the intruder. “That’s what they call me — Shakes. Shakes Niefan. I don’t mind telling you the name. You’ll never spill it.”
The killer was moving toward the table. Arment, his hands half-raised, was staring. Shakes changed to a circling course. Constantly facing his intended victim, the murderer gained the window and placed his gloved left hand upon the raised sash.
From where he stood, Dudley Arment could view both door and window. He was at one point of an imaginary triangle; Shakes Niefan was at the second; the door marked the third. Instinctively, Arment gazed toward the door.
“Stand where you are,” growled Shakes. “There’s nobody coming in that door. You latched it when you shut it. You aren’t going out that way, either — not until they carry you out.”
“What do you mean?” blurted Arment. “Do you intend to kill me?”
“I do,” retorted Shakes, with an ugly grin. “With this window down, nobody’s going to hear the shot. I’m leaving with those papers of yours — and you’ll never tell anybody what they were about.”
Shakes had paused in the delivery of this challenge. Again his gloved hand gripped the sash. Arment, in desperation, stared toward the door. A gasp of a different tone came from his lips.
The glass knob of the door was turning. Silently and almost imperceptibly, a motion was in progress.
Some one on the other side had inserted key or pick into the lock; the latch was yielding and the knob was acting with it!
INSTANTLY, Dudley Arment realized his error. His gasp had been a tip-off to Shakes Niefan. Had Arment kept silent, all would have been well. The time that Shakes was taking to lower the window might have allowed the door to open.
Now, however, as Arment glanced again at Shakes, the killer was alert. He was staring at the doorknob.
His left hand rested motionless upon the sash; his right hand was unconsciously turning its weapon toward the direction of the door. Forgetting Arment, Shakes was preparing for an unknown enemy.
Desperation brought action. With a wild effort, Dudley Arment sought to make up for his mistake.
Shakes Niefan was momentarily off guard. That gave the opportunity. With a ferocious leap, Dudley Arment hurled himself across the room to grapple with Shakes Niefan.
The killer turned to meet the onslaught. Arment caught his wrist and thrust it upward. Swinging downward, Shakes delivered a vicious blow to Arment’s head. The force of the stroke was hampered by the brakelike pressure of Arment’s arm; but the metal of the gun, as it glanced from Arment’s temple, had a stunning power.
Dudley Arment slumped. Shakes Niefan threw his left arm about the stunned man’s body. Holding the helpless form as a shield, Shakes swung again to meet the menace from the door.
His action was not an instant too soon. The door had opened. Upon the threshold stood an avenging form in black. The Shadow, automatic in his gloved fist, had arrived to thwart the killer!
CHAPTER XIX. INTO THE NIGHT
Six feet lay between The Shadow and the men by the window. The brief struggle between Dudley Arment and Shakes Niefan had given The Shadow the final moments required for his entrance. Though Shakes had commandeered Arment’s body as a shield, The Shadow still possessed a slender advantage.
Shakes, as he was turning toward the door, had chosen the best course for his own protection. He was thrusting his gun beneath Arment’s left arm, so that he might fire at the door. Had The Shadow waited for a moment, he would have lost all chance to rescue Dudley Arment. To cope with Shakes Niefan, he would have been forced to fire through Arment’s body.
The Shadow knew this. He performed the unexpected. Seizing the short interval which still remained — the moments necessary for Shakes to fire— The Shadow sprang forward in a furious attack.
His left hand, picking the spot beneath Arment’s arm, shot straight for Shakes Niefan’s wrist. His right, dropping its automatic, caught Arment’s body and whirled it from the killer’s grasp.
Shakes fired. The hot tongue of the revolver flame seared the face beneath the cloak collar as the bullet blasted upward through the hat brim. The Shadow had turned the aim a fraction of an inch.
All mobsters feared The Shadow; but Shakes, a murderer to the end, forgot his dread. As his right wrist faltered in the viselike grasp, Shakes shot a hard blow with his left fist. It was a stroke that The Shadow could not parry.
The Shadow staggered as the punch landed below the hat brim. Dropping sidewise, he still managed to grip Shakes Niefan’s wrist, while his free hand caught at the arm which had loosed the drive.
Shakes sought to deliver another jab. The Shadow’s clutch prevented him. With both wrists clamped, Shakes gave a vicious twist. The Shadow’s cloaked form went backward against the window ledge.
Snarling, Shakes tried to force his enemy through.
The Shadow’s left fist relaxed. That action changed the killer’s purpose. With right wrist coming free, Shakes snapped backward and swung his gun directly toward The Shadow’s hidden face.
THIS was the move on which The Shadow had counted. As Shakes pressed finger to trigger, The Shadow’s hand tightened with a new twist. The gun barked. The bullet zimmed past The Shadow’s shoulder, into the window frame. Then, as the twist increased, Shakes felt his fingers loosen. His revolver clattered to the floor.
The killer straightened with new fury. As The Shadow twisted sidewise, to avoid the danger of the low-silled window, Shakes launched his body forward with terrific power. Catching The Shadow off balance, he sent the black-garbed warrior sprawling.
The fighters grappled as they struck the floor. Shakes saw a long black arm stretch out to grip the automatic which lay three feet away. With a quick kick, Shakes sent the weapon skidding across the floor, past the spot where Dudley Arment, half-dazed, was raising himself to one elbow.
Then, as The Shadow locked for another grapple, Shakes introduced a trick that he had learned from his old pal, Strangler Hunn. The fighters were half risen; they were equal in their grapple; but The Shadow’s back was toward the wall. With a furious thrust, Shakes hurled The Shadow’s shoulders forward. The slouch hat struck the wall. The blow, though glancing, was sufficient for what Shakes Niefan wanted.