This was the problem that The Shadow faced. Minutes were passing — minutes that brought midnight closer. A great decision was burning within The Shadow’s brain. Never before had the superfighter been faced with a dilemma such as this.
The Shadow must strike or yield. His step must be made before the hour of midnight. The solemn laugh that The Shadow uttered showed plainly that he realized the urgency of this tremendous case.
The laugh ended with swift action. The Shadow moved to the wall. The light went out. A cloak swished in the darkness. A grim laugh rippled through the room, then died. Silence reigned; then came dull metallic clicks that seemed to creep mysteriously through heavy walls.
The Shadow had left his sanctum. For the first time, he was sealing this secret room so effectively that entrance would be doom to any who might attempt it. Should failure greet The Shadow in his encounter with Gray Fist’s minions, the secrets of the sanctum would be permanently preserved. Hidden bombs would utterly destroy The Shadow’s abode — with it, the body of Worth Varden.
Should The Shadow gain freedom from the toils which gripped him, he, with his own knowledge of the traps that he had set, could reopen the sanctum and gain new access to it. Whether or not The Shadow would ever return to this place depended upon his ability to cope with the vast dangers that lay across his immediate path.
Midnight was approaching when a strange shaft of darkness showed upon the lighted paving of a lower Manhattan street. The black patch moved along. It disappeared in darkness. It flitted beneath a new light, then merged with gloom once more.
The direction of the moving splotch indicated The Shadow’s destination. For once, The Shadow had complied with an enemy’s order. He was taking the only course which offered. He was traveling to the appointed spot, to the place, one block from the Black Ship, where Gray Fist’s minions would be waiting at the preordained hour of midnight!
Voluntarily, The Shadow was going into the very heart of the region where his enemies lay. He was facing the most desperate issue that he had ever encountered.
The Shadow was obeying the order of Gray Fist!
CHAPTER IX
THE SHADOW SPEAKS
THE street on which the Black Ship was located formed one of the most somber of thoroughfares in Manhattan. Dingy buildings lined both sides of the narrow way. Dirty alleys vied with deserted buildings in offering shelter to prowling denizens of the underworld.
Yet it was seldom that trouble started in this immediate vicinity. The Black Ship rested in a district which served as an oasis in the bad lands. Gangsters congregated here only to get away from the strife and turmoil that prevailed throughout the underworld.
Gray Fist’s ultimatum to The Shadow had taken this into account. The plotter knew that The Shadow must be acquainted with the ways of the underworld. Hence he had given The Shadow the opportunity to enter an area which was quiet, yet which also would place The Shadow under the bond of preserving any pact that might be formed.
As in his discovered sanctum, The Shadow would be forced to maintain a strict defensive. The safety of the sanctum would be denied him; yet he would possess a comparative security in this blind spot of the underworld.
So the situation appeared upon the surface. Events, however, along the street by the Black Ship, produced a different atmosphere as the hour of twelve neared. Peering faces were looking forth from obscure alleys. Watchers were at the windows of the empty houses.
A stoop-shouldered ruffian, sidling along the street, went by a parked sedan and continued on to enter an alley some hundred yards ahead. He emitted a low whistle. A whispery growl answered from the dark.
“That you, Snakes?”
“Yeah,” responded the arrival. “Lay low, Ruff.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” came the gang leader’s growl. “You haven’t seen anybody snooping around, have you?”
“No,” returned Snakes, as he crouched beside Ruff in the shelter of the alley. “Things look O.K. We’re going to keep them that way. You’ve got everybody set?”
“Sure thing. But what I’d like to know is why this guy is so important. The guy Gray Fist wants to get.”
“We don’t know who he is.” Snakes was cautious in his tone. “He might be anybody, Ruff. Besides that — he might have some other bimboes with him.”
“He’d have to have a regiment,” growled Ruff, “the way you’ve ordered things. Say — maybe you’ve forgotten how big those emergency orders were.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“Well, then you’re sure of one thing. There won’t be no cops butting in. Boney’s up ahead with his mob. Woody has a crew inside the Black Ship. Farther out, we’ve got—”
“Never mind, Ruff. I know the lay.”
“It’s up to Gray Fist to pay the freight.”
“Don’t worry about that, Ruff.”
“I figure he wants to see how the emergency orders work. Well, he’ll get what he wants. Stick around, Snakes. The only trouble is that it will all be over so quick—”
Snakes Blakey shot out a hand in interruption. Crouched near the entrance of the alley, the sneaky gangster was watching toward the parked sedan. The rear of the car was close to one of the few dimly-lighted portions of the narrow street.
SOME one had stepped into the sphere of light. A tall man, dressed in evening clothes, had made a rather sudden appearance by the parked car. It was impossible to discern the stranger’s features. His attire, however, seemed incongruous in this locality. Tucked beneath his arm, the arrival held a briefcase. He paused to stare inquiringly at the sedan. He was apparently noting that the car was empty.
With deliberate action, the stranger opened the door of the car, and stepped within. The door closed after him. Snakes Blakey, sensing that Ruff Shefflin was watching beside him, spoke in a low whisper.
“That’s the guy,” said Snakes.
“You’ve seen him before?” questioned Ruff.
“No,” returned Snakes, “but it’s him all right.”
“He might have got somebody else to come instead—”
“Yeah? Down here? Not a chance. I was wondering whether he’d have the nerve to come himself. Say — it’s pretty close to midnight, ain’t it?”
There was the flicker of a match as Ruff edged back into the alley to consult the dial of his watch. The gang leader grunted his corroboration.
“Only two minutes to go.”
“What about the men for the car?” quizzed Snakes.
“They’ll be along,” replied Ruff, as he returned to his post beside Snakes. “I put Jake and Caulkey on the job. Jake’s taking the wheel. Caulkey will be beside him.”
Several moments passed, then, as if in proof of Ruff’s statement, two men appeared upon the street. They approached the parked sedan simultaneously, one from the sidewalk, the other from the opposite side of the thoroughfare.
Jake and Caulkey had arrived. They were entering the car where the stranger was seated. Ruff growled a laugh as he saw the gleam of a revolver in Jake’s right hand.
“There won’t be any fooling,” he decided. “See how neat those boys handled it? Woody’s got a gorilla watching from the Black Ship. He’s seen Jake and Caulkey sure enough. That means the sharpshooters will be closing in from up the line.”
Snakes snarled his understanding. Already, the sharp-eyed watcher could detect a movement far up the street. Hiding hordes were moving out from alleys and from empty buildings. They were forming a blocking group at the rear.