“I know nothing about the wire,” declared Perry coldly. “I was merely examining it.”
“That is not for you to do!” growled Lopez. “I am the man in charge here! What you shall do is for me to say. That is what Senor Legira has told me!”
“Don’t be a fool, Lopez,” retorted Perry. “I don’t know what your game is, and I’m not asking. I’m playing fair, and I expect to be paid for it.”
Lopez became shrewd in his glance. He moved toward the window, and reached behind the radiator. With a quick jerk, he brought forth the end of the wire, with a dictograph dangling from the end.
“You know nothing of this, eh?” Lopez uttered the words in an insolent tone. “Nothing, eh? I think different from you. How has that been put here?”
“I have no idea,” answered Perry, with a shrug of his shoulders.
“That is a lie!” Lopez spat the words in a venomous tone.
With a mad spring, Perry leaped upon the skulking secretary. The two locked in a terrific struggle. In weight and strength, Perry had the advantage. His one fear was that Lopez might suddenly bring some deadly weapon into play.
THIS fear became a fact as they struggled forward and pitched headlong upon the floor. Perry lost his hold on one of the South American’s wrists. A moment later, he saw the gleam of a wicked knife that the man had managed to draw.
With a swift, mallet like blow, Perry struck the descending wrist. His assailant’s arm shot wide, and the knife flashed across the room, free from the fingers which had clutched it.
But Lopez recovered more quickly than did Perry. With his weapon no longer in his grasp, the wiry secretary renewed the attack with maddened fury. Before Perry could prevent it, the agile hands had caught his throat.
In the heat of conflict, Lopez was inspired by one desire. He was determined to slay the man whom he now believed to be an enemy.
Perry, desirous only of defending himself, realized now his error. He could not cry out; he could scarcely resist. Those clawing fingers that gripped his throat would never cease until they had gained their purpose. Lopez was bound upon a mission of death. He was not concerned with consequences.
Writhing on the floor, Perry was hopelessly at the mercy of Lopez. His antagonist was kneeling on his arms. The secretary’s hands were fierce in their effort as they sought to choke out the life of the helpless victim. Perry, his eyes bulging, his mouth wide open and gasping, sensed that the end had come.
Here, in this room, he was to die — at the hands of a man who thought him a traitor. In this house, with bolted door and barred windows, there was no chance of rescue. The room seemed to whirl about with the madness of a nightmare. A terrific roar surged through Perry’s ears.
Then came blackness — whirling, sinking blackness as the tightening hands neared the last moment of their dastardly errand. All seemed to vanish before Perry’s filmy eyes.
Perry Wallace had reached the verge of death!
CHAPTER X
THE SHADOW SPEAKS
STARING downward with maddened eyes, Lopez grinned in wicked triumph as he saw the whitened face of Perry Wallace. The choking gasps had ended. The victim was offering no resistance. Cruel to the point of barbarity, the vicious South American pressed his thumbs deep into Perry’s throat.
To Lopez, too, this was a wild fantasy. Schooled in the harsh precepts of his native land, the desire to kill was one that the man could not repress. There was but one way to deal with traitors. That way was to slay.
As Perry’s gurgle ceased, a strange change came over the pallid face. It brought bewilderment to Lopez. That face was blackening, as though an invisible shade of night had advanced to cover it.
The strange transformation turned bewilderment into sudden fear. One second more and the pressing thumbs would have finished their task. But the approach of the spectral blot had its effect. In momentary terror, Lopez released the pressure.
A gurgling sigh came from Perry’s lips. With the thought that his quarry was not yet dead, Lopez bent forward to resume his clutch.
Then the splotch of approaching blackness moved. The face of the gasping victim was blotted by a solidness that came from nowhere.
With startled eyes, Lopez saw that blackness become a hand with inky glove. Turning in consternation, he found himself within the grasp of a figure clad in black.
All that Lopez saw was a pair of gleaming eyes that shone from beneath the brim of a slouch hat. Beyond that, all was mammoth blackness.
With a startled scream, the South American shot upward to meet this unknown foe. His body was caught in a viselike grip. A powerful arm pressed his chin upward.
Then, as though in the sling of a mighty catapult, Lopez was hurtled upward and backward. His light body spun wildly in the air. Whisked through space, he was precipitated forward, landing forcibly upon the floor. There he lay, bereft of his senses.
A strange sight! Lopez, unconscious, flattened on the floor. Perry Wallace, in the guise of Alvarez Legira, lying with eyes still closed as his weakened fingers sought to remove an imaginary grasp from his neck. Above them, the dominating figure in the room, a man clad in black cloak and soft hat, whose burning eyes were glowing spots of flame.
The Shadow, messenger of life and death, had arrived upon the scene. With one swift stroke, he had saved the life of Perry Wallace, and had hurled Lopez into senselessness.
Perry opened his eyes. Before his blurred vision, The Shadow was no more than a moving mass of blackness. Before the rescued man could regain his normal faculties, he felt himself lifted bodily and half carried to a chair. There, with his collar plucked open, he gasped for breath until the effects of the strangling hands had passed away.
Then Perry looked around him. First, he saw the body of Lopez. He wondered if the man was dead. He could not understand what had happened to Legira’s secretary.
Perry rubbed his eyes and looked toward the window. It was then — for the first time — that he really saw The Shadow.
THE sight of that uncanny being brought new bewilderment. That tall form, clad in its garb of sable hue, might have been a specter from the other world. Entrance to this room seemed impossible. How had this stranger of the night arrived?
Perry repressed a shudder. The gleaming eyes were directed toward him, and in them Perry could see neither friendliness nor enmity. He realized that he owed his life to this weird personage; yet the man in black seemed an avenging phantom. Had he rescued that he, in turn, might slay?
With difficulty, Perry managed to regain his composure. The unreality of the situation came as an unexpected tonic. Through Perry’s mind ran the single, important thought. Despite all that had happened, he must play his part. He must retain the role of Alvarez Legira.
Calmly smoothing his rumpled coat, Perry feigned indifference as he drew his cigarette holder from his pocket. He boldly returned the stare of the man who stood before him. The action brought a soft, ghostly laugh from the hidden lips that were buried beneath the shadowed projection of the hat brim.
“Who are you?” demanded Perry suddenly.
“One who is interested in your plans, Legira,” came the reply, in a low, whispered voice.
Perry restrained a smile as he realized that his impersonation of Alvarez Legira was effective enough to deceive this crafty visitor. He decided that by careful playing of his part, he might learn matters which had hitherto eluded him.
Tonight, with the visit of Pete Ballou, Perry had gained his first glimmering knowledge of the intrigue and cross-purposes that surrounded the consul from Santander.