A shot from Clink’s gun would mean death to her or to the man who had saved her.
It would also sound the alarm to the other men.
Betty realized the helplessness of The Shadow. He might still be here in the darkness; but he could not fire at Clink. That, too, would serve as an alarm.
THE light came on. Straight down the cellar stairs shone its glare. It moved back and forth, and suddenly its rays were focused upon Betty! Her white face was revealed amidst the black mass of the cloak.
At that instant — just when Betty knew she was discovered — she saw something else.
The long, thin form of a man seemed to emerge from the steps.
A face came within the glare of the electric torch.
It was the face of The Shadow — a solemn, monkish profile that shone a ghastly green as the light revealed it!
Two black hands shot forward with amazing swiftness. They caught Clink’s ankles in a viselike grip.
Betty could see a startled, twisted expression on the hideous face of the man with the flashlight. His body went upward as though impelled by a powerful spring beneath. The gun and the light shot ahead of him as he was precipitated forward.
Headlong, like a high-diver, Clink shot down the cellar stairs with terrific impetus!
Betty could hear the man’s long, wailing cry, as he dived helplessly into space.
The Shadow was beside her, now. She was lifted in his arms. They were in the hallway. The cellar door was still open; but no sound came from it.
Betty could hear voices, and the scramble of feet along the hall. The Shadow stepped into a side room, behind a curtain, carrying her with him. There she was lowered to the floor as two men rushed by — Bob and Briggs.
They had heard Clink’s wailing shout!
A few minutes passed and Betty no longer sensed the presence of The Shadow. She heard footsteps from the cellar stairs. Bob and Briggs stopped in the hallway.
“The fool!” came Bob’s harsh exclamation. Even the sound of that voice made the girl shudder. “I told him to stay out of the cellar. Tripped on the top step — all the way down — head-first—”
“What’ll we do about it?” Briggs questioned grimly. “We can’t leave him there, with his head smashed against that concrete wall.”
“Wait a while,” returned Bob. “We can get rid of his body later on—”
“In the room where the girl—”
“No!” Bob spluttered an oath. “That place is forgotten, Briggs. Forgotten — you understand? Are you a fool, too?”
Their voices dwindled as they walked along the hall back to the study. As the footsteps died away, The Shadow was again beside Betty.
The girl’s spirit weakened at last. Her rescue — the encounter on the stairs — the fact that Clink was dead — all these were more than she could stand, now that they were past. She fainted as The Shadow lifted her in his arms.
Betty regained consciousness a few minutes later, when a cool, fresh wind swept over her. They were outside the house. The Shadow was carrying her through a darkened alleyway that led to a side street. A closed car was waiting.
Betty, still bundled in the black cloak, was placed in the rear seat of the limousine. The door of the car closed. She could see the back of the chauffeur at the wheel.
The car moved along the street, and for one instant, as they passed a bright light, Betty saw the silhouette of The Shadow beside her. Then faintness again swept over her and her dazed mind became a blank.
CHAPTER XI
“HARKNESS murder solved!”
A man paused at the newsboy’s cry. He purchased a copy of the Evening Classic and stared at the headlines. He hailed a passing taxi.
Within the vehicle, he turned on the light and read the news account as he rode along. A smile of cunning satisfaction spread over his face as he perused the details.
The cab stopped at the gloomy mansion that had been the home of Theodore Galvin. The man entered the building. Although it was not yet dark outside, the interior of the old house was dusky. The man walked through the hallway and came to the door of the lighted study.
“Hello, Briggs,” he said, as he entered.
The big man, staring idly from the window, turned to answer the greeting.
“Hello, Bob,” were the man’s words. “What’s new?”
“The gag worked all right,” replied Bob. “Take a look at the Classic. The Chief scored a ten-strike when he arranged this stunt!”
Briggs seized the paper and his eyes lighted as he scanned the headlines.
“Great stuff!” he exclaimed, admiringly. “Inspector Herbert Zull identifies murdered gangster as the slayer of Richard Harkness. Gee! That’s hot!
“The morning papers tell of finding Clink’s body in an auto junk yard. By afternoon, Zull has doped it out. Clink killed Harkness. New clews — finger prints on the table that corresponds with Clink’s. Finding of the death gun on the dead gangster.
“Jake Grimble — alias Clink — small-time racketeer. They’ve got all the dope here, haven’t they, Bob?”
“Right,” was the reply, “and it fixes things all right for us. There’s no connection between Clink and us. That’s where we’re safe.
“Clink was just a hanger-on with Moose Shargin’s mob. The kind of a guy that would try to stick up Harkness for whatever might be in the place.”
“He was around with us, though — and I was there with him,” said Briggs, doubtfully.
“What of it?” demanded Bob. “You don’t get the lay, Briggs. While the murderer was unknown, Zull was in a tough spot.
“That’s his business — to track down murderers. Some rookie dick might have come along and found some evidence that would have made Zull look cheap.
“You know how he works — he won’t stop at anything, that guy. He’d hang a murder on his own brother if he could fake it.
“Now he’s hung this one on Clink — and he’s got the guy that really killed Harkness. That closes it. Zull has other work to do. This is a big find for him, and he’s not going to waste time trying to locate an accomplice that nobody even suspects.
“There won’t be any one else on the case, either. Read that stuff about the motive. Look at what Zull found out about Clink — a small-time racketeer, working on his own — all that sort of stuff.”
“Guess you’re right, Bob,” admitted Briggs. “I guess it’s just as well Clink did fall down the stairs and break his neck.
“You’ve got to hand it to Shargin, too. He and those gorillas of his sneaked the body out of here in first-class style.
“Loaded old Clink full of lead out in the junk yard. There’s been other gang killings there before. This was a soft one with a guy already dead.”
BOB did not reply. He was opening the newspaper. He stopped at a page near the back and pointed out an item to Briggs. It stated that Miss Betty Mandell, well-known society girl, had left for a trip to Florida and the West Indies.
“Well-known,” laughed Bob. “She’s got about four friends in New York. Her uncle threw a big coming-out party for her a few years ago and she’s good for the society page any day, on account of family history.
“But she never got around much. Told me so herself. That paragraph takes care of her for the next six weeks. We’ll be through by then!”
Briggs nodded. He reached over to the desk and picked up a sheet of paper upon which he had written a telephone number. Bob looked at it.
“Westcott!” he exclaimed. “When did he get back?”
“To-day.”
“What did he say?”
“Wanted to talk to you. Said it was very urgent.”
Bob still stared at the sheet of paper in his hands.