Then came The Shadow’s answer. His stern hand opened fire with the seized revolver. The borrowed weapon found its targets. Two gangsters fell. The rest dropped for cover.
The Shadow did not tarry. Already a horde was on his trail. Shots were coming from the back end of the alley, where thwarted gangsters were entering to take up the chase. The Shadow sprang from the spot which was no longer secure. With incredible speed, he hurtled along the street, choosing the direction where mobsters were the fewest.
Shots followed. They could not find that fleeting form, which appeared but momentarily when it entered patches of light. A gangster leaped from cover to block The Shadow’s path. His finger was trembling on the trigger of his gun; it never managed to discharge the weapon.
A burst from the .45 settled the blocking mobster. As his body sprawled, The Shadow cleared it with a leap. His keen eyes spied approaching men ahead. With sudden intuition, The Shadow doubled on his trail, shot across the street, and sprang into an opening on the other side.
“Get him! Get The Shadow!”
Ruffians were leaping to the cry. They thought that they had trapped their daring foeman. The opening which The Shadow had chosen was a blind alley, with a high wall at the end. Fearless in their frenzy, men of the underworld piled on The Shadow’s trail. The thought of death was forgotten in the individual urge to be the first to deliver a fatal shot to the common enemy.
Three gangsters reached their goal. One shot a light into the alleyway. All had guns pointed toward the wall at the end of the cul-de-sac. A cry came from the first mobster as he turned his lantern upward.
The Shadow, by a superhuman effort, had gained the top of the high wall. The gangsters were aiming toward a lower level. Before they could raise their weapons, The Shadow gave them the remaining contents of the gun that he had seized.
Roars from the .45 reechoed through the short area as zipping bullets found their marks in human flesh. Two gangsters fell. The third pressed the trigger of his gun. His shot sizzled past The Shadow’s shoulder just as the black-garbed master fired another shot. The mobster dropped prone as two more arrived to aid him.
Another shot — the last that The Shadow could deliver. Then, with all the force that a powerful arm could give it, the glistening .45 came whirling through the air, straight at the head of the final enemy. For that mobster stood alone; his companion had crumpled with The Shadow’s final bullet in his heart.
Aiming, the last man ducked as he saw the empty revolver hurtling toward him. He was too late. The massive weapon thudded against his skull. The gangster sprawled and rolled over in the short alleyway.
From atop the high wall came the strident tone of The Shadow’s laugh. A rising burst of merriment, it mocked those who had sought to slay him. Here, in the heart of gangdom, The Shadow flung forth his challenge to all who might seek to stay his wrath!
More men were coming to the scene. They were scattered shooters from the ranks which The Shadow had thinned in the neighborhood of the Black Ship. Lights glimmered into the alleyway of death. They showed one final glimpse of a fleeting, dropping form. The Shadow had gained the other side of the wall.
ONCE again a quick-thinking enemy was in the game. Snakes Blakey had taken nothing for granted. He had seen the power of The Shadow. Even while shots had resounded from the cul-de-sac, Snakes was screaming exhortations for the ears of skulking mobsters.
The Shadow was in the midst of the foe. Gangsters were sliding into every alleyway around the entire block where The Shadow had disappeared. One sight of the being in black would be the signal for a mass attack.
A car was coming down the street. From it came Ruff Shefflin’s growl. Snakes Blakey leaped aboard. He heard Ruff’s sullen order to the driver.
“Cruise around!” The gang leader was fierce in speech. “We’ll get The Shadow! Spread the word!”
The car encircled the block. Ruff’s order was repeated. Snakes Blakey, peering from within the car, was on the lookout for the phantom being whose death he had ordered for to-night.
There was no sign of The Shadow. Somewhere, amid the labyrinth of narrow streets and hidden alleys in this section the weird lone wolf had found a temporary refuge. Other cars were circling the district. From all came the same order:
“Get The Shadow!”
All sound of conflict had ceased. The original battle-ground had been abandoned, although watching eyes were back in the old buildings near the Black Ship. The police had been called to the scene; all that they would find were bodies of those who had failed in their conflict with The Shadow.
Seething turmoil lay suppressed throughout the underworld. Gang rivalries had been forgotten. One quest alone excited all. That was the desire to meet and defeat The Shadow. Death to a brave fighter whose shots had done mighty work, yet whose arsenal was now exhausted: such was the wish of gangdom.
Ruff’s car had circled blocks from the spot where The Shadow had disappeared. As it swung a corner, the headlights threw their gleam upon a windowless wall. Snakes Blakey, his sharp eyes on the lookout, gave a sudden cry.
In bas-relief against the wall, the sneaky gangster had seen the figure that all were seeking. In the momentary flash of the headlights, he had viewed The Shadow!
The car came to a sudden stop. Mobsters sprang from its doors. Others along the street heard their cry. All caught one short glance of The Shadow as the hunted warrior sprang from the spot where he had been standing.
Directly into the area of illumination beneath a street lamp leaped The Shadow. Guns barked as the black form disappeared beyond. Then came a fleeting glimpse of the tall shape as it shot into the doorway of an old three-story building. With fierce shouts, the gathering mobsters took up the chase.
THE SHADOW had arrived at some destination which he had evidently sought. Here, near the outskirts of the underworld, he had gained the entrance to a stronghold which he must have reserved for just this situation.
Ruff Shefflin was at the head of the pursuing mobsters. As he reached the doorway, the gang leader saw The Shadow disappearing at the top of a dimly-lighted stairway. Ruff fired — a fraction of a second too late. There was no answering shot.
With mobsters at his heels, Ruff dashed up the stairs. He made a turn to another flight. Again, he saw signs of The Shadow; this time a splotch of blackness that showed against the wall. Ruff fired foolishly as he headed for the third floor.
A door was closing at the end of a hall as the gang leader reached the top. With a cry to his followers, Ruff dashed forward and threw himself against the wooden barrier. It held. Other mobsters were with their leader. Two stalwarts plunged into the locked door. It shook from the shock.
Another cooperative burst ended the barrier. With a crash, the door smashed inward from its hinges. The gangsters sprawled and raised themselves to their feet as others flashed loaded revolvers. Ruff found a wall switch and pressed it.
A single light came on. The invaders — half a dozen — were standing in an empty room. The poorly painted walls were divided into panelings. On the opposite side, however, was the spot which showed where The Shadow must have gone.
A steel door blocked farther passage. It was a huge, formidable barrier, with triple locks. Ruff Shefflin mingled his anger with curses. This portal stood between the mobsters and The Shadow. Beyond, The Shadow might be in a stronghold. Nevertheless, Ruff was not willing to give up the chase.
Gangsters were stamping into the hallway. Ruff stopped them as they neared the little room in front of the steel door. He barked his orders to this horde that was ready to obey his bidding.