Growls of approval. Then came a final admonition from the spokesman:
“No lights ‘til we get out of this joint. Get that, Louie? An’ you, Gabby?”
Grunts of understanding. Mobsters entered the touring cars. Louie’s automobile coasted down an incline of planks; the motor did not start until the car had reached the street. Gabby’s car followed with its crew.
As motors roared in the street, lights came on. The two cars filed through narrow thoroughfares, with cautious mobsters slouched deep in the seats. The back of Louie’s car was revealed by Gabby’s headlights. But the rear of the second automobile was visible to none.
Hence not one of the armed mobsters knew that a stranger was accompanying them. The Shadow had chosen his course. His cloaked form was resting upon the rear bumper of the second car, huddled motionless over the spare tire, unrevealed by the tiny glare of the tail light.
The Shadow had chosen this perch with the assurance that the gangster cars would keep away from thoroughfares where traffic was heavy. This proved correct at first. While the two machines were rolling along an isolated street, a coupe suddenly appeared in front of them. Blinks of the tail light told Louie that this was Spud Claxter’s car.
The touring cars fell in line. A half mile more along the almost deserted street. Then came the contretemps that forced a change in The Shadow’s mode of travel. The three cars were nearing the approach of a huge bridge across the East River.
As the touring car slowed for a traffic light, The Shadow dropped to the street. He quickly glided toward the curb. He saw that the three cars were about to make the turn on to the lighted suspension bridge, where rows of cars were thick in both directions.
A taxicab was parked near the corner. The Shadow entered it. The driver, half-asleep, was surprised by the quiet voice of an unexpected passenger. The Shadow ordered the jehu to drive across the bridge to Long Island.
The driver shrugged his shoulders. He started the cab and obeyed the unusual instructions. The taxicab fell automatically into line behind the gangster cars. When the far end of the bridge was reached, The Shadow ordered the taximan to keep on.
After a journey of about two miles, the gangster cars swung from the main highway. They followed a street where traffic was lighter than on the boulevard. Peering from the cab, The Shadow saw Spud’s coupe pull up in preparation for a left turn. He hissed an order to the driver. The taximan stopped at the curb, thirty feet behind the last of the two touring cars.
A ten-dollar bill fluttered into the driver’s hand. While he was examining it, the door opened silently on the street side of the taxi. Traffic had cleared; Spud’s coupe was waiting only for a swift car that was approaching from the opposite direction, beyond the intersection. Quickly, The Shadow glided across the street and merged with the darkness of signboards on an unbuilt corner.
Spud’s coupe swung left. The touring cars followed. As the last one swung past the corner signboards, a bolt of blackness sprang from its lurking place. With swift strides, The Shadow gained his former perch — the rear bumper of the final car.
From then on, The Shadow’s position was secure. Spud was leading the way along secluded roads. When the cars finally came to a stop, they were on a dirt lane beside a hedge that marked someone’s estate. It was here that gangsters dropped to the ground to hear their leader’s orders.
“Through the hedge,” growled Spud. “Keep clear of the house. We’re going to cover the bunch that’s going in. Let ‘em get away an’ don’t use no rods unless you have to.”
Mobsters responded their understanding. They scrambled through the hedge and gained positions as Spud had ordered. Louie and “Gabby” remained in the touring cars, watchful, while Spud went with the crew. It was shortly afterward that The Shadow followed.
Unseen, unheard by either Louie or Gabby, The Shadow glided through the hedge. He paused in a darkened spot to view the bulk of a huge, square stone house that occupied the tract of ground inside the hedge.
DIM lights from lower windows indicated hallways. Upstairs, blocks of light showed an occupied room. That spot, The Shadow knew, must be the point of attack. Moving forward, slipping past the forming cordon of mobsters, The Shadow reached the side of the looming house.
He knew that he must reach that lighted room. He decided that the best mode of entry would be from the back of the house. Moving along the wall, The Shadow reached a secluded spot where a darkened window showed above. Clinging vines of ivy offered a rapid means of ascent.
The Shadow knew Spud Claxter’s scheme of action. Chosen workers were due to enter this house and perform some crime. Meanwhile, the squad of gorillas that included Luke Gonrey were posted as an emergency crew. They would cover the escape of the actual raiders.
The Shadow’s plan was to enter; to surprise the raiders on their arrival. Working from the inside, he could throw terror into the ranks of mobsters. After driving the raiders back, he could resist any invasion by the outer cordon.
The Shadow had started up the wall. He paused suddenly. From within the house, he caught the dull sound of a slamming door, the scuffle of feet upon a stairway. The Shadow recognized the noise. It meant that men were going down — not coming up.
Instantly, The Shadow dropped from the wall. Instinctively, be swung along the ground, heading for the far side of the house. As he gained the corner, he heard a crash near the front of the building. Swinging doors were hurled open from a sun porch. Out from the house leaped four ruffians, masked and carrying boxes.
These were the raiders. They had come ahead of the cordon. There had been some mistake in timing. Spud Claxter and his gorillas had arrived after crime had been consummated — not before. The Shadow’s scheme of defense was balked.
As the scurrying raiders landed on the ground, they swung toward the front of the house and turned a stone corner. This course was a lucky one. Had they cut across the side lawn; had they headed toward the back of the house, they would have been targets for The Shadow’s aim. As it was, they gained an immediate protection.
An automatic barked. The last of the four raiders staggered but dodged on beyond the front wall. The Shadow’s quick shot had wounded the raider but had not dropped him. Thus it was due to cause new complications. The flash of the automatic had been seen by two of Spud’s outside crew; the report of the gun had been heard by all.
As The Shadow sprang forward to pursue the raiders who had rounded the front of the house, revolvers barked from all about. Powerful flashlights glimmered toward the stone walls of the house. Shouts arose as mobsters sprang inward across the lawn. Half a score of gorillas were ready to trap the enemy who had delivered the surprise shot.
The Shadow, balked in his plan to frustrate crime, was enmeshed within the sharpshooting cordon that Spud Claxter had summoned from the underworld.
CHAPTER XI
THE SILENT HOUSE
HAD The Shadow paused to fire from a spot along the side wall of the house, his predicament would have been magnified. The revealing flash of an automatic would have betrayed his exact position. Had he dashed on in pursuit of the fleeing raiders, he would also have become a target for the closing cordon.
Mobsters were everywhere, acting with skillful promptness. Those who had seen the flare of The Shadow’s first shot were shouting the news to their comrades. Bullets were flattening against the side wall. A barrage was forming; mere seconds alone promised safety to The Shadow.
Ducking as he passed the dull light of the sun porch, The Shadow gained the front corner of the house. Here an open porch extended, with a stone parapet. It was the bulwark that The Shadow needed. With a quick spring, The Shadow gained the top of the wall. There, his temporary flight changed to challenge.