The man with both hands free drew back his coat and showed a badge.
“Acting Inspector Zull,” he said. “New York City detective headquarters.”
The conductor nodded. He had expected this. Orders had been awaiting him at the last city.
“All right,” he said, gruffly. “Work it quick, if you can. I’ll show you where he is — in a drawing-room. I think he’s the man you want.”
He led the way softly between rows of curtained berths. They stopped at the door of the drawing-room in which Bob Maddox slept. The conductor softly inserted a key and turned it. He stepped back.
Zull entered, followed by the other man, a tall individual whose face was wrapped within a muffler.
The door closed behind the two men, the second shutting it with his left hand, while his right still pressed against the back of the inspector.
Zull turned on a flashlight. It revealed Bob Maddox, sound asleep.
Calmly, the second man passed an automatic to Zull. He spoke in a low whisper as he did so.
“It is loaded,” were his words. “But remember; I have mine.”
Zull was amazed at the calmness of this warning. He had traveled, bound, in the back of a closed plane, which The Shadow had piloted. Now he was released; added to that, he had been supplied with a loaded gun!
But he knew The Shadow too well by this time. A single false move would spell his doom!
Keeping the automatic in view, pointed toward Maddox, Zull nudged the sleeping man. Maddox opened his eyes.
The light of the drawing-room clicked. The Shadow, standing by the door, had turned it on. Zull’s flashlight went out.
He, alone, was visible to Bob Maddox. The Shadow was out of view, a muffled figure backed against the door.
“Come on, Maddox!” growled Zull. “We want you!”
Maddox recognized Acting Inspector Zull. He grinned at the inspector, even though his face was worried.
“Say!” he exclaimed. “What’s the idea? You were paid to fix everything. You hung it on to young Galvin—”
“You’ve double-crossed the Chief,” replied Zull. “That’s why I’ve come to get you!”
THE explanation startled Maddox. He had never thought of this situation. He realized that Hiram Mallory could command the action of the law as well as protection from it — through the efforts of Zull.
Maddox, alone of the gang, knew of this connection. Briggs had known that if he left the sign, he would be free from arrest; but the big man had never figured out the details. Moose Shargin had been kept in ignorance.
But now came a surprising thought to Maddox. The Shadow was dead — but Hiram Mallory was still alive; and Zull was working with him!
“You want me?” questioned Maddox, sleepily.
“Yes. Hurry up!”
Maddox started to rise in his berth. As he reached a sitting position, his hand came from his side. He fired twice with his automatic.
Acting Inspector Zull fell dead, without a groan. Maddox sprang from the berth. He turned toward the door. He stopped as he saw the silent witness of his crime.
With a fiendish cry, he raised his gun to fire. The Shadow’s automatic spoke twice. One bullet clipped the murderer’s wrist; the other lodged in his shoulder.
Maddox fell writhing to the floor. To his ears came a mocking laugh. He realized that The Shadow lived!
The conductor was rattling at the door of the drawing-room. The Shadow did not hurry. He lifted Maddox and placed him in the berth, where the man lay, helpless and gasping, his left hand gripping his right shoulder.
Two guns lay on the floor. One belonged to Maddox; the other to Zull. The Shadow pocketed the dead detective’s automatic and laid his own revolver in its place.
With head lowered and face muffled, he opened the door. He thrust the two suitcases out into the aisle.
“Help me with these,” he ordered, in a whispered voice. “We’ve gotten our man. Don’t worry about him.”
As the conductor took one of the bags, The Shadow closed the door of the drawing-room. The conductor led the way along the aisle, between the rows of curtains through which startled heads were appearing.
“This is far enough,” came the word, when they reached the vestibule. “You can go back.”
THE conductor turned and reentered the car. Quickly, the man with the muffled face opened the door. He dropped the bags to the ground; then ascended the steps to rejoin the conductor. Suddenly, he stopped.
The door of the next car was opening; the white-coated form of a Pullman porter came into view. Unseen, The Shadow dropped from the steps and swung beneath the car, drawing the suitcases after him. Voices sounded from above.
Two men had followed the Pullman porter and the three had stopped in the vestibule.
“Who opened this platform?” came the demand.
“Ah, don’t know, sah,” answered the Pullman porter. “Two men went back into the cah, sah.”
“Where’s the conductor’”
“Back in the cah, ah reckon.”
“Well, we’re State police. Got orders to meet the train here to take over a prisoner. Got here sooner than we expected. Where’s the prisoner?”
“Ah don’t know, sah.”
“Come on,” growled one of the State policemen. “Let’s find the conductor.”
“No,” objected the other. “I don’t like the looks of this open platform. I’m going to drop off and see if any one is around.”
The man suited the words with the action. He dropped to the ground and flashed the rays of an electric torch in all directions. He inspected under the car, but to no avail. The Shadow had slipped away to the other side of the train.
Back by the drawing-room door, the conductor was waiting.
Where was the man with the muffled face? When would he return?
Precious minutes ticked by. The conductor, hesitant, feared to enter the drawing-room. At last his patience was rewarded. Two men came along the aisle — State policemen. They had given up their useless inspection.
“They’re in there,” said the conductor, pointing to the drawing-room.
“Who’s in there?”
“The New York police inspector — and the man he captured.”
A State policeman placed his hand upon the drawing-room door. At that instant, the lock clicked. The door would not open. The conductor produced a key. A muffled blow was heard from within the drawing-room. The lock was rendered useless!
For the delay had been a long one. The return of The Shadow had been averted. Nearly fifteen minutes had elapsed since he had left the drawing-room.
Now, the deadened senses of Bob Maddox had been suddenly reawakened. Using his left arm, he had locked the door just in time to prevent the entry of the State police.
“Open the door!”
Maddox replied with a curse.
THE siege began. Hastily dressed passengers scurried from the car. One State policeman remained guarding the door. The other went to the front of the train to summon two more who had been stationed there.
They crept along the side of the track. They spotted the window of the drawing-room that formed the murderer’s stronghold. They opened fire. Bullets smashed the windows.
Maddox replied with shots. He had two guns — his own and the one The Shadow had left with Zull. He had a supply of cartridges.
Although crippled, he was ambidextrous, and could shoot well left-handed. He forgot all pain in his maddened fury.
From the darkness of his beleaguered drawing-room, he poked his head toward the shattered windowpane and fired wild shots at the vague men in the darkness.
A wild, intermittent gun battle. Maddox aimed with uncanny intuition. One of the State policemen fell, wounded.
Every time the gun flashed from the window, shots responded from without; but Maddox always got away in time. One of the troopers crept along close to the car. Maddox suspected the ruse. He turned his automatic downward.