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THE SHADOW did not enter the room. His keen eyes could see tiny drops of moisture upon the surface of the mahogany desk. These were rapidly evaporating. They were the last traces of the condensed gas that had produced this strange scene.

There was still a chance that fumes remained; if so, they would be gone when the final drops had dried. The Shadow did not need to enter. He looked across the room and saw the closed door of a safe. That told the final story.

The swag had come from this room. The raiders had entered after delivering the knock-out bombs. The Shadow’s laugh was soft but grim. He knew the reason for the handkerchiefs that had been upon the faces of the fleeing raiders.

Those had not been necessary so far as the victims were concerned. They had been used to hide something that chance, distant witnesses might otherwise have observed. Beneath the covering of large bandanna handkerchiefs, the successful raiders had worn small gas masks to cover their nostrils. Goggles, perhaps, in addition, to protect their eyes beneath the handkerchiefs.

Shouts from in front of the house. Police had been summoned by the neighbors. The Shadow took a last glance at the desk in this silent room. The final drops of moisture had dried. The Shadow moved into the outer room, found an unlocked window and emerged. He descended by the heavy ivy on the stone wall. As he reached the ground, he could hear thumping footsteps pounding up the inner stairway.

The arriving rescuers had made straight for the house. They had not yet begun to search the grounds. Ghostlike, The Shadow moved off through the hedge. His hidden shape followed the side lane. The Shadow had found no need to linger.

The raiders had escaped; the surrounding mobsters had been overpowered. The Shadow had seen the new victims of the death sleep. He had learned the motive of crime — the robbery of that safe in the second story room.

Though he had not frustrated crime, The Shadow had wreaked vengeance upon a horde of mobsters. He had broken up the forces which opposed him. He had forced a change in coming plans; he had made it necessary for Spud Claxter to produce a new crew before further crime would be possible.

But most important of all, The Shadow had verified a fact which he had suspected. The scene of the crime had told him the definite truth. The raiders had been equipped with more than the gas bombs that had been used at Seth Tanning’s. They had worn masks that had proven an efficient protection against the fumes that they had loosed.

The crooks had gained the neutralizer that they needed. How? Where? The Shadow knew; and that knowledge inspired the whispered laugh that sounded in the darkness of the little lane. The Shadow was thinking of Harry Vincent’s report.

He knew that the false hospital attendant had been a crook. He knew why Skeet Wurrick had visited the blind alley in back of Hoffer’s Pharmacy. Crooks had profited through the experiments made by Doctor Seton Lagwood.

A preparation had been stolen; it had served as an effective neutralizer. Men of crime were ready for new endeavor. The law was in ignorance of their methods. But not The Shadow. When crime again rode high, The Shadow would be prepared to meet it with an unexpected thrust.

CHAPTER XII

THE BIG SHOT PLANS

ONE hour after the fray at the house on Long Island, Spud Claxter arrived at Wolf Barlan’s apartment. Spud’s face was glum. When Wolf received him in the lighted living room, he knew at once that disaster had been encountered.

“Well?” snarled the big shot. “Did you fliv the job? What happened out at Currian’s?”

“They got the swag,” returned Spud. “Skeet and Zug — the two guys with them — knocked out Currian and the others who were in the house. What happened after that was the trouble.”

“Let’s hear it,” growled Wolf.

“Well,” reported Spud, “there was a lucky break to begin with, Skeet must have got the glim before I showed up with the outside crew. Any way, he and the bunch were in before we got there.”

“Skeet got the signal all right,” acknowledged Wolf. “I told you I had a good guy planted in there. It don’t hurt if you know his name now. His part of the job is done. It was Tully Newel, working in Currian’s as a servant. He scrammed as soon as he flashed the glim. Gave me a call and hopped a rattler to Buffalo. Well — that’s that. Go on with your story.”

“We covered the house,” related Spud. “Seen the inside crew come out. Then somebody fires a shot alongside the house. Wings one of the bunch with Skeet. That started us.”

“It ought to have. What did you do? Close in?”

“Yeah. We knew the guy was by the house. We was out to get him, Wolf. Then all of a sudden we hear a laugh. Handed me the shivers, that laugh did. Somebody spots the front porch with a flashlight — and there he was.”

“Who?”

“The Shadow.”

Wolf Barlan had paused to pluck a cigarette from the box on the table. His fingers relaxed when he heard Spud’s statement. The cigarette struck the table and bounced to the floor.

“The Shadow!” exclaimed Wolf.

“Big as life,” responded Spud. “Up on the stone rail of the porch, giving us the ha-ha.”

“And I suppose you dummies took it on the lam, eh?”

“No. That’s where we made our big mistake. Those gorillas I picked wouldn’t run from nobody. They began to open up with their smokewagons. The Shadow did a nose dive.”

“Clipped him!”

“That’s what they thought” — Spud’s tone was rueful — “until they barged in on that porch. Then the boys got theirs. The Shadow had pulled a stall — that was his trick. Up he comes and gives the outfit the works.”

“Yeah?” barked Wolf. “What was the mob doing? Standing by and giving him a college cheer? Where was their gats? Did they throw them away?”

“They used their rods,” retorted Spud. “But they couldn’t do no more than knock off hunks of rock from that porch wall. The Shadow was behind it, picking off every gazebo that fired at him. I saw what was happening. I ducked around the house with a gorilla named Luke Gonrey. Tried to plug The Shadow from in back. Luke took a pot shot at him and missed. Then The Shadow crippled Luke.”

“So you scrammed?”

“Yeah, dragging Luke with me. There was one other gorilla managed to get back to the cars. We beat it in a hurry.”

WOLF grunted. The big shot’s face was troubled. Wolf was picturing the events that Spud had related. He realized that Spud’s mob had at least covered the getaway of the raiders who had the swag. Spud caught the thought.

“I came in to the hideout,” he stated. “Found Skeet and the others there. They had the guy that The Shadow wounded. He ain’t bad off. But Luke Gonrey and that other gorilla — well — we got to get them somewhere.”

“Where’d you leave them?”

“The other side of the bridge. Lucky I did, too. There’s cops on the bridges looking over all the cars that are coming in. Guess The Shadow scrammed and after that the bulls showed up at Currian’s.”

Wolf Barlan paced back and forth across the floor. He was worried; but his mental state seemed to spur his planning. A fierce leer showed on his ugly face.

“Figuring on something, Wolf?” queried Spud.

“Yeah,” returned the big shot.

“Don’t forget them two guys,” reminded the mobleader. “You ought to know some place where I could lug them. There’s a sawbones I know down on the Bowery; I don’t think the bulls have been watching him.”

“Leave that to me,” assured Wolf. “I got a couple of places where I could send them. Used to have plenty of gorillas get in trouble when I was handling that night-club racket. I’m just thinking of the best place.