The Shadow had walked into an elevator, large in size, which had all the semblance of an ordinary room.
He and the prisoner whom he had come to rescue were trapped within cellar walls that surrounded the sides of the camouflaged elevator.
Buzz and Blitz had seen the trap work earlier in the day; but they had viewed it from the passage in the Silver Dragon. Tonight, they had gained the pleasure of seeing its action up until the final moment when The Shadow and Harry Vincent had reached the bottom of the pit.
DOWN below, Harry Vincent was managing to blurt out words. Incoherently, he was trying to explain the present plight. Then came a jolt that announced the bottom of the shaft.
The Shadow came upright. An instant later, the room was plunged into darkness.
Harry sank back, despairing. Then, above him, he heard the sibilant tones of a whispered taunt. The Shadow’s mirth prevailed within this room of darkness, as though the mysterious master had found the element that was his choice.
“Come!”
The single word followed the echoes of that hissed mockery. A gloved hand gripped Harry’s shoulder.
The released prisoner was drawn to his feet.
Harry found his balance; then wavered unsteadily. A flashlight glimmered; The Shadow steadied his agent.
Across the room, toward the paneled door that had descended with them. Such was the course that The Shadow took. The flashlight glimmered on the panel; Harry rested against the wall as he watched The Shadow’s hand probe the circle of light.
Harry wondered at The Shadow’s purpose. This room was nothing but an inner shell, The door was useless, now that the chamber had descended amid stone walls that formed the foundation of the Silver Dragon.
Moreover, Harry recalled that when captors had left him they had been forced to knock for exit. The door could not he opened from the inside. Yet The Shadow seemed persistent in such effort.
Click!
The Shadow had found some hidden spring. The panel slid open. A puff of air whisked inward. The flashlight carved a glimmering path through darkness. The Shadow urged Harry toward the spot where the agent had believed that stone foundations stood.
Another secret of Koy Dow’s strange premises. An underground passage of which The Shadow knew.
An exit below ground that matched the one above.
Dazed, Harry found The Shadow conducting him through a maze of narrow paths that were tunneled through foundation walls.
Away from Koy Dow’s. Off toward the heart of Chinatown. They were traveling catacombs that must once have formed the secret dugouts during the days of the Chinese tong wars. Yawning caverns looked like former arsenals wherein the members of battled factions had drilled for battle.
The flashlight showed a stairway. Up stone steps, through a grated door; then came another barrier; finally a passage. The Shadow opened a final door and drew Harry into the darkness of a secluded street.
THE flashlight blinked no longer, but Harry noted the parking lights of a cab. The Shadow opened the door of the vehicle; Harry climbed aboard. He heard a whispered order:
“Report.”
Mechanically, Harry answered.
“Rook Hollister,” he said, steadily. “In the penthouse. Two stories above the Roof Cafe of the Hotel Moselle. Clyde Burke still a prisoner there—”
A fierce hiss interrupted. The Shadow saw blackness stiffen. Sharp words came in low but commanding utterance as The Shadow responded to this unexpected news.
Harry’s words were but brief phrases as The Shadow demanded details. Swiftly, the cloaked rescuer learned how Harry and Clyde had been trapped; how they had been quizzed; then ignored until this night.
Harry told how he had been dragged out and forced to the storeroom on the floor below Rook’s hideout. How he had been packed in a shipping box; then drugged for his journey.
Of one thing, Harry was sure: Rook Hollister had retained Clyde Burke. Harry recalled brief statements that he had overheard. Mention of the fact that he was to be placed within a trap; that Clyde would be reserved for a later occasion.
The report ended abruptly. The Shadow’s whisper carried brief commands. Harry heard them; so did the driver of the cab. Moe Shrevnitz was the man at the wheel.
Then blackness closed the door. Harry thought he caught a faint swish as The Shadow moved away. The cab jolted forward. Moe was taking Harry from this district.
But The Shadow had remained. His ways were to be his own. Brief duties held him; then would come the final move. One agent rescued, The Shadow was faced with the task of saving another whose plight was desperate.
CHAPTER XXI. THE SHOWDOWN
A LIGHT was blinking in front of the Silver Dragon. A single bulb, it was flashing as a crimson beacon to all eyes that were watching it. From streets and alleyways on this border of Chinatown, men of crime were moving in to cover.
Hawkeye was one who saw the light. He had been with one of the mobleaders whom Lingo Queed had approached sometime before. After Lingo had gone further on to spread the news, Hawkeye had chosen his present spot, the entrance of an alleyway one hundred feet from the Silver Dragon.
Though close to Koy Dow’s shop, Hawkeye had not observed the arrival of The Shadow. He had watched darkness only until at last the blinking had commenced. Long minutes had followed, while mobsters and their leaders crept forward to be in readiness. Hawkeye, however, had kept his present station.
He had seen men come from that doorway that he once had used. He had watched them go along the street and enter the Silver Dragon. One squatty shape Hawkeye knew must be Koy Dow. He decided that the others were Buzz Dongarth and Blitz Schumbert. In fact, he had recognized a gesture that reminded him of Blitz when the biggest of the three men had motioned to the closest mobsters.
A few of the gunmen had responded; they had also entered the Silver Dragon. Hawkeye, still in the seclusion of the alley, suddenly sensed that someone was close by. He had a startled impression of a hand against his coat sleeve. He whirled about and groped in the darkness.
Then, mumbling at his own delusion, Hawkeye let his hand drop to his side. Something crinkled as he brushed his pocket. Clutching, Hawkeye crumpled a sheet of paper.
The little man moved from the alley. He slouched forward in the fashion of the other mobsters who were moving in. He neared the entrance of the Silver Dragon and stopped at a convenient point where he could catch the dull glow of the street.
Huddling, Hawkeye opened the paper. Straining, he read blue-inked words that faded as he finished them.
A message from The Shadow! To meet Cliff Marsland; to follow instructions that would come from Burbank.
Hawkeye was astounded. He knew what the blinking light meant above the Silver Dragon, yet here was proof that The Shadow was in the clear.
Hawkeye stuffed the crumpled paper in his pocket. Turning, he was about to edge away when he encountered a man who was coming across the street. A hand clamped itself on Hawkeye’s shoulder.
The little spotter swung to face Lingo Queed.
“Where are you going?” demanded Lingo savagely. “Don’t you see that light blinking? It means we’ve got The Shadow. Stick here with the rest of the torpedoes, in case the bulls butt in.”
“I’m sticking,” acknowledged Hawkeye, “I was just easing back a bit. I mooched up to see how things lay. There’s plenty of rods around here now, Lingo.”
“All right,” decided Lingo, impatiently, “just so you’re near enough to be ready.
“The Shadow showed up quicker than I thought he would. I was still out going the rounds.” As Lingo entered the Silver Dragon, Hawkeye headed back to the alley. Once there he kept on going, pausing against a wall at one point while advancing mobsters passed him. Then Hawkeye continued his course from the district.