He could not keep Marty Lunk waiting. Already, he had passed the word to the gangleader. Lunk and his men had promised to murder Valdo and remove the body. But the gangleader, now that he knew that Hampton Uhler owned the gems, did not wish to linger in Manhattan.
A sudden thought occurred to Jerwyn. He knew a way to make Valdo talk. A sure way — one that was reflected in the cunning smile that played upon his waxlike lips.
“You will not tell me, eh?” questioned Jerwyn. “All right, Valdo. I am giving you one minute to speak. Then you die — if you have not spoken — and Lorenna will die also!”
To back his cowardly threat, Jerwyn began to draw upon the door knob. This was to indicate that he was about to call for murderers. At the same time, he gestured with his revolver, pointing toward Lorenna, who was crouching at the side of the room.
The action produced an unexpected result. The movement of the gun drove Valdo to maddened rage.
The threat against Lorenna — the brief opportunity that came to Valdo himself; they were sufficient. With a wild leap, the gypsy sprang upon Claude Jerwyn.
Frantically, the cadaverous man turned his gun to meet the gypsy. He fired as Valdo struck his arm. The shot, diverted upward, was buried in the ceiling. Valdo’s free right arm came swinging from his jacket.
Jerwyn, twisting loose, fired again. His nervous trembling hand was too slow with the trigger.
Valdo’s left cracked Jerwyn’s right. The shot went wide. A knife gleamed in Valdo’s right fist as Jerwyn swung to make a third aim. Before the cadaverous man could shoot, Valdo’s hand swept upward. The fist came loose as Jerwyn’s body toppled to the floor.
Face upward, the knife handle sticking from his breast, Claude Jerwyn had fallen victim to the man whom he had come to slay. Lorenna, gasping, stared wild-eyed at the dead form. But Valdo, Jerwyn disposed of, had chosen another task.
Seizing the revolver from the floor, the gypsy sprang toward the door. Three shots — a knife thrust — in less than a dozen seconds. Valdo was ready to meet the murderers who were to come.
THE door swung open as Valdo yanked the knob. Up came the gypsy’s gun, squarely toward a pair of blazing eyes that seemed to burn from the darkness of the hallway. For an instant Valdo faltered.
The gypsy had expected human foemen. He had not looked for a monstrous form of black. The Shadow had arrived at the precise moment when Valdo’s fight with Jerwyn had ended.
An instant’s hesitation — that was all that Valdo showed. Then, considering all whom he met as foemen, the gypsy snarled as he jabbed his finger to the trigger of the gun. Swifter than the movement of Valdo’s hand came the thrust of a black-gloved fist.
Charged with the weight of an automatic, the heel of The Shadow’s fist struck Valdo beside the jaw. The gypsy spun sidewise. His form rolled, to Lorenna’s feet. The fortune teller, screaming, dropped to see if Valdo had been killed.
The Shadow had swung back into the hall. Valdo’s attack had told him of a coming danger. His action was just in time. A flashlight blazed from the end of the hall.
Marty Lunk had heard the shots, crouching with his gangsters on the stairs to the little attic. Claude Jerwyn had told the gangleader that Valdo carried no revolver. Marty had supposed that Jerwyn had slain Valdo without aid.
But Jerwyn had not returned. Suspecting trouble, Marty had ordered his henchmen forward. The flashlight was high in the gangleader’s hand — above the heads of the gorillas, who held revolvers. The rays revealed an unexpected shape — The Shadow!
Flame spurted from an automatic. The echoes of The Shadow’s shot thundered through the low passage.
With those reverberations came a scream, as the glare of the flashlight vanished. Picking the torch as his first target, The Shadow had gained the darkness that he wanted.
With that shot, The Shadow dropped to the floor. Rolling on his back, he held his automatics almost at arm’s length above him. Revolver shots zimmed as the gorillas answered the opening shot.
The automatics spoke. Head backward, the master marksman picked the flashes that told where his enemies had crouched. The mobsters, shooting for the bursts of The Shadow’s guns, were high. They aimed for where his body should have been. Only clenched fists were there. These were targets that they missed.
The fusillades were brief. The barks of revolvers ended. The automatics ceased their roaring dirge.
Rolling to his knees, The Shadow arose and moved along the hallway. A tiny flashlight twinkled. Two bodies showed — the dead forms of Lunk’s gorillas.
Where was the mobleader? The Shadow’s light showed the stairs. The light went out. Creeping softly, The Shadow moved upward step by step. No ears could have heard that stealthy approach.
The top was reached. The dim outline of the skylight showed. The Shadow pressed the heavy barrier. It had been jammed tight from the outer side. The Shadow laughed weirdly. Prying with terrific strength, he forced the frame.
IN Lorenna’s room, Valdo had raised himself against the wall. His hand upon his jaw, the gypsy stared at Lorenna. The woman pointed to the form of Claude Jerwyn.
“Tu chinghian les,” exclaimed Lorenna.
Though groggy, Valdo understood. “You have killed him” — such was Lorenna’s statement. Valdo, though he had fought in self defense, could see the danger of remaining. He staggered to his feet.
With Lorenna guiding, Valdo reached the stairs to the first floor. The gypsies descended. The side door slammed to mark their exit. The second floor lay silent.
The figure of The Shadow reappeared at the door of Lorenna’s room. Once again, Marty Lunk had eluded the master fighter’s toils. The gangleader had fled, leaving his henchmen to battle with The Shadow. The fray had given him time for flight across the roofs.
ON the back street, cars were pulling away in response to Marty Lunk’s order. Sirens were whining from a distance. Some one must have heard the shots at Jerwyn’s. The police were coming.
The Shadow, still standing in the room where Claude Jerwyn lay dead, heard the same distant shrills. The sound was coming closer — almost to the front street outside of the house.
A soft laugh echoed through this room of death. The Shadow whisked toward the hall. His tall form ascended the steps to the attic; his shape appeared ghostlike as it passed through the skylight to the roof.
The Shadow, with no reason to remain, was seeking the path that Marty Lunk had taken.
Five minutes later, detectives had entered the house. Patrolmen had been ordered to search the neighborhood. The action was too late. Valdo and Lorenna had escaped. Marty Lunk had fled. The officers, as they began their search, failed to glimpse the fleeting form that issued from a vacant house on the street in back of Jerwyn’s.
Stanley, dozing at the wheel of the limousine, jumped up as he heard a voice through the speaking tube.
Parked more than a block from Jerwyn’s, the big car had been out of the path of the approaching police.
Stanley had not heard the sirens nor had he heard his master enter the machine.
But the quiet tones of Lamont Cranston were clear in Stanley’s ears, for the chauffeur had tilted his head beside the speaking tube. Nodding, he started the car as he caught the repeated words:
“New Jersey, Stanley.”
A soft laugh sounded in darkness as the limousine rolled from the curb. The Shadow was planning for the future. Crime was in the making. A double meeting was to come.
One meeting would be with Rodney Casper. The other would be a new encounter with Marty Lunk.
Whatever might come, no crook would elude The Shadow!
CHAPTER XV. THE GUESTS