Mox!
THE SHADOW knew instantly that this gray-haired figure with its beard must be the evil master of this house. A furious cackle came from the fiend’s lips as Mox spied the outline of The Shadow.
Up came the right arm with its automatic. The Shadow aimed at this monster, who had appeared, once he believed his minions had won the fray. A revolver glimmered in Mox’s hand, but the fiend ducked for the shelter of the upstairs corridor as he saw The Shadow’s automatic on its way.
Shots rang out; the first was from The Shadow’s gun; the second from Mox’s revolver. Results were nil. The Shadow, weakened by loss of blood, was an instant late in the swerving aim which Mox’s dive required. Had the villain not sprung for safety, he would surely have been slain.
Mox’s shot, made while in flight, went wide and high of The Shadow. The evil keeper of this lair had evidently recognized his enemy. He did not reappear while The Shadow remained in readiness.
Men were pounding at the door. Shouted commands were heard. The Shadow thus identified the arrivals. The State police who had been searching for the speedster had hurried hither at the sound of ringing gun fire.
With a sudden return of his swift activity, The Shadow swung from view. He did not take the stairs as the police burst through the door. Instead, he dropped to a sheltering place of blackness that formed an alcove underneath the stairway. This was the nearest spot that enabled him to make a quick disappearance. Even Neswick, bewildered in the hallway, did not witness The Shadow’s remarkable departure.
There was strategy in The Shadow’s action. At the very instant when the police burst into the lower hall, Mox appeared at the head of the stairs. The fiend believed The Shadow trapped between two fires. Instead, he was startled to find himself face to face with two policemen who were dashing toward the steps.
Mox fired. His second shot clipped a State trooper’s arm. The officer staggered. His companion returned the fire; with two others at his heels, he dashed up the stairs.
Quick, hasty shots resounded; then Mox, seeing three men moving to the attack, hastened down the corridor.
When the police arrived at the head of the stairs, there was no sign of the gray-haired enemy. Mox, like The Shadow, had disappeared. Two officers began a search of the second floor. The third returned to join his wounded companion below.
Neswick had started to the wounded man’s aid. Neither he nor the crippled policeman saw the phenomenon which occurred in the center of the hallway.
FROM his hiding place beneath the stairs, The Shadow moved forth like a ghost of the night.
A tall, gliding apparition, he gained the outer door. His tall form swayed as it reached the coolness of the night air. There, it seemed to regain its strength as it vanished in the darkness.
When next that form appeared, it was beside Harry Vincent’s parked coupe, near the railroad station.
Merging with the darkness inside the car, The Shadow rested behind the wheel. His right hand found a roll of bandage in a side pocket. Harry Vincent, engaged on missions which promised serious results, never neglected to carry such equipment.
The bandage formed a snakelike strip of white amid a mass of blackness as The Shadow bound his wounded arm. The task completed, the dark sleeve of the cloak dropped to obscure the bandage. A single hand — The Shadow’s right — gripped the wheel as the coupe pulled away.
A brisk reviving breeze reached The Shadow as he drove away from Darport. His work was ended for this night. His wound, though painful and extremely weakening, would be forgotten within the next few days.
Sulu, the hideous dwarf, had served Mox well tonight; yet the spidery servant had failed to accomplish the real task given him. He had merely made The Shadow’s fight more difficult.
He had not thwarted The Shadow’s saving of Joel Neswick. He had not prevented The Shadow from eliminating Mox’s henchmen. He had only managed to save his own hide, and to stop The Shadow from reaching Mox himself.
The Shadow, even then, would not have given up his quest but for the arrival of the State police. That episode had also played its part in the escape of Mox. The Shadow, however, had turned it to advantage. With Neswick rescued, he had played a quick game that had placed Mox face to face with the law.
Neswick’s story would be believed. Mox would be sought. His lair would be of no more use to him. Such were the developments that The Shadow had brought.
Oddly, his quick trip to Darport, which had brought the police pursuit of the speedster, had played a definite part in the culmination of tonight’s episode.
The Shadow had thwarted death at midnight. That was the great achievement. A sardonic laugh — tinged with a trace of weariness — emerged from the interior of Harry Vincent’s coupe.
The murderous career of Mox had been suspended. From now on, the villain would have but one main purpose: to destroy The Shadow. That was the thought that had brought The Shadow’s laugh.
The Shadow knew that a new struggle was commencing. His wits against those of a murderous supermind of crime. The law had intervened, but it would merely set the stage for the final drama.
The climax would be the next meeting between The Shadow and the fiend called Mox!
CHAPTER IX
CARDONA TAKES A TRIP
“WHAT do you think of it, Cardona?” Police Commissioner Ralph Weston was the propounder of the question. He had summoned the star detective to his office on the second morning after the affray which had occurred in Darport. He was pointing out the latest news reports of the amazing incidents in the house of Mox.
“Burke may be right,” returned Cardona thoughtfully.
“Who is Burke?” inquired the commissioner.
“The Classic reporter,” was Cardona’s response. “He’s written what I’ve been thinking. His link-up of missing inventors seems to hit the nail on the head.”
“Then you see a tie-up with the Harlow murder?”
“I do. Commissioner, I’ve been reading that note we found on Harlow’s desk. I think maybe the murderer left it there because he didn’t see anything in it that would point us to the source of crime.”
“But the reference to The Shadow! Preposterous!”
“The letter was simply addressed to The Shadow. Harlow may have been — well” — Cardona’s tone was reluctant — “maybe he was goofy. I’ve been reading this fellow Neswick’s story. He left New York at just about the same time of night that Greerson started out. They tried to get Neswick in this fellow Moxton’s house. Maybe they did get Greerson.”
“The newspaper reports,” commented Weston, in a wise tone, “are somewhat garbled. I have discovered the reason.”
“Do you mean the guy that’s handling the case?” queried Cardona. “Junius Tharbel — the county detective that thinks he’s a big shot?”
“Yes,” replied Weston. “Tharbel is a big man — in a small way. As county detective, located in Darport, he has gained a remarkable record over a period of twenty years. He has made a name for himself, Cardona.”
“As a sportsman,” returned the detective.
“Yes, that’s true,” laughed the commissioner. “He likes fishing and hunting, and is quite a golfer, I understand. Well, Cardona, you can thank Tharbel for one thing. Your work as an acting inspector has ended. You will be relieved.”
“On account of Tharbel?” Cardona could not repress the indignation in his question.
“Only indirectly,” smiled Weston. “I have arranged with Tharbel to send a special representative of the New York police to Darport. You are the detective whom I have chosen for the job.”