“Duvale!”
The cry of recognition came from Andrew Blouchet. He had been mistaken in his guess that Needler, the masked crook, was the mysterious artist. Andrew had jumped to a false conclusion and his words had misled Harry Vincent. Now, the agent knew the truth. Duvale was The Shadow!
IN this tense moment, a surge of thoughts swept through Harry’s brain. He understood the entire situation without the need of explanation. The Shadow, himself, had taken means of protecting Andrew Blouchet.
He had been on the ground before Needler Urbin.
The Shadow had taken on the guise of Duvale, before noon. Moving in, he had waited until Andrew Blouchet had gone out. The Shadow had then entered Andrew’s apartment; he had successfully opened the safe. From it, he had taken the ebony box.
Using the key on the mantel, he had opened the box and removed the money. But he had left everything as he had found it — except for the cash.
The Shadow had known that crooks would search. He had hoped that they would tap the safe, to find nothing of value. But Needler, entering later in the afternoon, had failed where The Shadow had succeeded. That news had come to The Shadow, through Harry. It had forced The Shadow to a new plan.
The Shadow wanted crooks to believe that Andrew had no money. Hence he had not interfered with Needler’s invasion. But The Shadow had arrived here before Needler. Again disguised as Duvale, he had lain within his darkened, locked apartment, until Needler had broken in on Andrew and Harry.
Then had The Shadow surprised the men in the hall. Silently, with threats of guns, he had come from the apartment opposite. He had forced henchmen back. Holding them with one automatic, he had hurled Andrew’s door inward, to thrust another weapon as a threat to crooks within.
As the focal point for two groups of crooks, The Shadow held a precarious position, despite the fact that he held the bulge. There was a reason, however, for his assumption of this dangerous post. Harry Vincent caught it, as his chief sped a glance in his direction. The door had blocked The Shadow’s view; he had been forced to pause after flinging open the barrier, in order to see how matters stood with Andrew and Harry.
The Shadow’s eyes flashed a signal. Harry stared quickly toward Andrew and gave a nod to his chief.
Harry saw what The Shadow wanted: prompt action from his agent. For although Needler and both thugs had swung toward the door, Andrew was not out of danger.
Harry was no longer covered by the thug who had watched him. But Andrew was in front of “Beef,” the underling whom Needler had deputed to watch him. Beef, in turn, was safe from The Shadow’s aim, with Andrew as a bulwark. There was a chance that the thug might first pump bullets into Andrew, should the battle begin.
Harry was a dozen feet from Beef, on a direct line with the fellow. Beef had forgotten Harry. Therefore, it would be the agent’s task to eliminate the ruffian who covered Andrew. Shifting slowly, Harry started a creep toward Beef, while The Shadow delivered a challenge that held all attention in his own direction.
A whispered, sinister laugh from the false, pasty lips of Duvale. A fierce throb of mirth that told killers they could expect no mercy. A defiant rise of merriment, that rose to a startling crescendo, then stopped abruptly, while ghoulish echoes followed in its wake. Evildoers knew their antagonist. The Shadow!
SOMETHING in the taunt drove vicious thugs to action. Needler’s gun snapped upward. So did those of the two thugs behind him. All were swinging toward The Shadow; but Beef’s gun changed direction as it raised.
Andrew Blouchet, spontaneous in action, had started a spring toward Needler, forgetful that a thug was located in back. That thug was Beef; he, too, was acting.
From his forward creep, Harry Vincent dived forward at the very moment of Beef’s swing. A human catapult, he struck the man’s right shoulder, bowling Beef sidewise before the thug could deliver his first shot. As he sprawled to the floor, with Beef, Harry heard the roar of opening battle. The Shadow had ended his delay while Harry was in mid-air.
The Shadow had taken a long chance, for Needler and the remaining thug were already tugging on their triggers. But The Shadow beat them to the opening shot; and the first blast from his automatic was delivered toward the thug who had held Harry covered. With that boom of the .45s, the masked crook staggered. His trigger finger quivered, useless.
The Shadow’s aim for the underling had given opportunity to Needler Urbin. Leader of the murderous band, Needler was the most dangerous of the lot. But here, again, The Shadow had counted upon a break. Andrew Blouchet had dived for Needler. Like Harry’s leap for Beef, Andrew’s was in time.
Fiercely, Andrew caught Needler’s right arm, just as the crook fired. Needler’s jolted gun spat wide.
With an oath, Needler twisted free and jabbed his metal-clutching fist against Andrew’s chin.
As Andrew reeled back, Needler aimed again. At the same instant, Beef, wresting clear from Harry, came up from the floor on one knee and leveled his revolver for the smocked figure in the doorway.
Simultaneously, harsh cries ripped from the hallway. Out there, two crooks had dropped their revolvers when confronted by The Shadow. Diving inward from the door of the balcony steps, they were regaining their weapons. These were thugs who had been behind the boxes on the balcony, along with Needler.
They knew that others would be coming up from the courtyard below.
Needler and Beef from one direction; two desperate killers from the other. Hard odds for The Shadow; but he was prepared. All that he had wanted was a split-second’s advantage. He had gained it.
The Shadow’s right-hand .45 spat jabs with machine-gun precision. It pumped four quick shots, as his hand flashed up and down with the recoil. His eyes were toward the room; his first two bullets were for Needler. In the interval of the second recoil, The Shadow’s aim swung slightly to the left and lowered.
The third and fourth shots tongued for Beef.
Needler doubled, his left hand thrust to his chest, his right hand pointed toward the ceiling, pressing the trigger of his revolver as if it were a starter’s gun. He was firing without thought of direction. The Shadow had clipped this desperate killer just in time.
BEEF fired one shot simultaneously with The Shadow’s turn in his direction. His aim, though hasty, might have been true; but an important happening ruined Beef’s only chance. A hand, speeding up from the floor, had clutched Beef’s wrist, to drag it sidewise as the thug fired.
It was Harry’s clutch; it came amid Beef’s attempt, and along with The Shadow’s shots. Beef rolled helplessly.
Harry grabbed for the gun that hit the floor.
Harry had come in from Beef’s right side, clear of The Shadow’s aim. Andrew Blouchet, half slumped to the floor, was also out of line when The Shadow made short work of Needler and Beef. All had happened within the space of two short seconds. But The Shadow had done more than down two murderers.
He had swung sidewise into the room as he was firing. With outstretched left hand, he had caught the edge of the doorway, using his unfired automatic as a catch to halt his move. Only the muzzle of that left-hand .45 remained visible in the hallway when a sudden barrage burst forth. The other thugs had reclaimed their revolvers. But they had no target other than the muzzle of a gun.
That lone mark slid suddenly downward as The Shadow dropped to the floor. Before the thugs could lower their aim, the pale face of Duvale thrust itself into the hall, less than two feet above the level of the floor. Flattened like a long-range rifleman, The Shadow blasted bullets at the snarling crooks in the hall.
The foremost attacker withered. The other spun about as a shot clipped his shoulder. With a howl, he dived for safety. Reeling headlong, he reached the balcony, bowling back three ruffians who were dashing up the steps.