If Zull’s adversary was invisible, so was Zull himself. At the first sound, he intended to fire, spraying that blank wall with quick shots from his automatic.
He stopped as he neared the wall. He listened. There was no sound other than his own breathing. Zull knew that it would be dangerous to approach more closely.
Now was his opportunity. Quick shots — well-spread bullets! That would do the trick! At this close distance, the flashlight would reveal whatever might be there, and there was no possibility of escape.
The inspector’s finger was on the trigger of the automatic. The thumb of his other hand pressed the button of the flashlight.
Instantly, the unexpected happened. There was a man in the darkness, and it seemed as though he had followed Zull’s actions and thoughts with uncanny perfection. For, just as the light came on, a long, black form shot forward from the darkness.
Two arms shot out. Gloved hands caught the inspector’s wrists. Before Zull could fire, his right arm was twisted in a viselike grip. He failed to press the trigger, for his fingers lost their hold upon the automatic.
Then his body was whirled under the impetus of a jujutsu hold. He was precipitated headlong, in a mammoth whirl. His senses left him as he crashed upon the paving of the alleyway.
Silently and swiftly, Inspector Zull had been rendered helpless in the darkness of the alleyway. Then, a light appeared — the glare of a tiny electric torch.
The light flickered upon the motionless face of the stunned sleuth. Its rays were focused upon the pockets of his coat. The light went out. A form bent above the unconscious man for barely a moment.
The tones of a low, weird laugh reverberated from the walls of the cul-de-sac. It was a laugh that carried a foreboding chill — a laugh that seemed too weird to have been uttered by human lips.
Then the man who had laughed was gone. Only the still form of Acting Inspector Zull remained.
Silence followed the laugh of The Shadow!
CHAPTER VIII
WHEN Acting Inspector Zull opened his eyes, he was immediately conscious of a dull pain at the back of his head. He sat up and wondered where he was.
All was black about him. He rubbed his eyes; they became accustomed to the darkness. As he looked about him, Zull could see a vague, gloomy patch of light not far away.
He realized what had happened. He had entered this alleyway to find a man lurking in the darkness. Despite his alertness and the caution of his approach, he had been attacked and overpowered.
He could still remember the sickening sensation which he had experienced. He had been whirled like a windmill, catapulted in a gigantic somersault that had brought him prone upon his back. It was fortunate that he was not severely injured.
Zull saw now the mistake that he had made. Entering the cul-de-sac, he had not realized that a slight light had formed a background behind him.
He could see the dim glow of the entrance to the alleyway. It had been to the advantage of the hiding man. Lurking in a dark corner, he had been able to watch the outline of Zull’s form.
Thus had the trapper been trapped.
Groping in the darkness, the inspector suddenly discovered his flashlight. He turned it on and rose unsteadily to inspect his surroundings.
He was alone in the alleyway. His adversary had gone. He turned his light toward his watch.
An exclamation of surprise came from his lips. He had been lying in this place for nearly an hour!
Confusedly, Zull reached in his pocket and brought out the pad that he found there. He exclaimed in satisfaction as he observed it.
The top sheet bore slight indentations. The man who had overpowered him had not taken this pad of paper. Zull flicked out the light.
Despite the fact that his head still throbbed, he began to concentrate in the darkness. Zull’s analytical mind tried to piece together the incidents which had occurred.
First, he had been followed. His pursuer had taken up the trail outside the house where Richard Harkness had been murdered.
Zull could see no definite object in that — unless the man who had trailed him had suspected that he was on the way to trace some clew pertaining to the murder.
NO ONE had seen him pick up the pad — Zull was sure of that fact. The fact that he still had the pad was proof that his follower had not been cognizant of its importance.
There could be — so Zull argued — but one reason for the attack here in the darkness. The man following him had been trapped. He had made a successful attack, and had fled.
Despite the fact that the attacker had left no trace of his identity, Zull was positive that he knew who the man was.
Only one person could have planned such a bold onslaught and carried it through to such perfection. That was The Shadow.
“The Shadow!” whispered Herbert Zull through set teeth. “What brought him into this! If he—”
Perplexed thoughts followed.
To Inspector Zull, keen graduate of detective ranks, The Shadow was a reality — not a myth. He had often heard of this mysterious being, who so frequently dominated the affairs of New York’s underworld.
No one knew who The Shadow was. A strange personage of the night, he appeared from nowhere, garbed in black, and vanished as amazingly as he appeared.
Time after time, The Shadow had thwarted the affairs of master crooks.
While none knew what The Shadow was, many — Zull among them — knew what The Shadow was not.
They knew that he was not a detective — though his ability at solving crime surpassed that of the most expert sleuths. They knew that he was not a criminal — though he understood the ways of crooks and gangsters and fought them successfully with their own weapons.
It was rumored — never proven — that The Shadow was a man of wealth, who studied criminology through contact with crime. Yet he seemed to choose his activities with the care of a connoisseur, ignoring certain crimes where one might logically expect him; stepping into others when not anticipated.
Gangsters and detectives alike had surreptitiously sought to trace The Shadow through one source — his radio broadcasts.
Once a week, this mysterious man appeared at a great broadcasting studio, and sent his voice over the air on a national hook-up.
But every effort to learn his identity had failed. Even those connected with the radio programs did not know The Shadow.
Sometimes he broadcast from a room with black hangings, which evidently had a secret entrance. There he was hidden from prying eyes.
But on one occasion, when alert eyes had been watching that special room, The Shadow had entered the studio in disguise. He had deliberately broadcast from the very room in which the actors in a radio drama were doing their parts.
At the time his voice had sounded, there had been a dozen persons standing by different microphones. A chill had come over the spectators as The Shadow’s weird voice had pervaded the room.
Yet no one there could tell which person had uttered those mocking tones!
On other nights, The Shadow had tricked his would-be discoverers by using a telephonic connection that brought his voice to the studio from a distance.
His laugh had been taunting — a proof that he knew he was thwarting the plans of those who attempted to trace him.
It was evident that The Shadow was a master of disguise — a man of many faces, whose own face could not be recognized. It was probable that he had various agents who reported to him, yet did not know his identity themselves.
The activities of these agents had been suspected; but following The Shadow’s instructions to the letter, they had become mysterious also.
ZULL had seen the hand of The Shadow in different police cases that had come under his investigation. He had heard dying gangsters scream in delirium — “The Shadow! The Shadow!” but their statements had been incoherent.