Ping Slatterly paused. He rasped an order for the others to stand by.
The glare from the acetylene searchlight still illuminated the entire living room. Through a peculiar, dusky haze, faces were visible in strained whiteness. Frightened guests — sullen detectives — Ping viewed them with disdain.
The gang leader’s gaze turned toward Thaddeus Harmon. The millionaire, alone uncowed, wore a look of defiance. His expression aroused Ping Slatterly’s complete antagonism. The gang leader sneered in the gloom.
Instructions flashed through Ping’s hostile mind. He had been told to get the jewels; to make an effective getaway; and to stay his gun until its use proved necessary. Murder was Ping Slatterly’s forte; he saw good occasion for it now.
Only one man among the helpless people in the room seemed capable of planning action against the crooks. That one was Thaddeus Harmon. Why not eliminate him?
In moments of quick thought, Ping saw the advantage. To Harmon, the jewels were of prime importance; to the others, the welfare of the millionaire was the chief consideration.
If Thaddeus Harmon fell, riddled by bullets, a second before the acetylene light made its exit, the only thoughts of the remaining people would be the fear of death. That terror would persist; and when the penthouse lights returned, confusion would occur at the sight of Thaddeus Harmon’s slain body.
With cool deliberation, the evil gang leader raised his revolver. Ready to loose unexpected death, he held the brilliant lantern steadily in his left hand, taking aim with the weapon in his right.
“Hold it,” growled Ping to his clustered companions. “Wait until I cut loose with this smoke wagon. Then we’ll scram.”
With final deliberation, Ping Slatterly belittled the consequences. He could explain matters to his associates. Murder did not matter, so long as the robbery had been completed. Success would stifle criticism.
Thaddeus Harmon’s life was hanging in the balance. The crime of death was to follow lawless entry and theft. Ping Slatterly gloated as he prepared to slay the helpless millionaire. One minute more; then the enveloping shroud of the black hush would close upon a scene of murder!
CHAPTER X. SHOTS FROM THE SHAFT
PING SLATTERLY’S powerful light had carved a beam through the blackness that pervaded the penthouse. The awesome pall of the black hush had not, however, been dispelled elsewhere. Within the elevator that was bringing guests upward, a solid block of impenetrable gloom had struck with amazing power.
The car had come to a stop midway between two floors. The startled gasps of the passengers had died upon frightened lips. After the first seconds of astonishment, a muffled terror had gripped quivering hearts.
Among those passengers, so suddenly invisible to each other, was one to whom the coming of blackness had brought no awe. This person was the unexpected guest whom Thaddeus Harmon had been so eager to welcome; namely, Lamont Cranston.
Within the darkness of the elevator, Cranston’s first action was to press his hands against the interior wall of the car. Probing fingers found a crevice. They wedged a metal implement into it.
A hushed click in the gloom was unnoticed by the terrified passengers, who were mumbling incoherent comments to each other. The side of the car, when it came slowly inward, disturbed no one.
The Shadow, working in the darkness, had opened the emergency door in the side of the car. This barrier was designed for the removal of passengers from one elevator to another. At present, it was useless for this purpose; there had been no opportunity to bring a second car up alongside the stalled lift.
The Shadow, however, used the opening for another purpose. His invisible form slid through the unlocked side of the car. The door closed and clicked behind him as he clung to the outside of the elevator. Then, with calm precision, he clutched the front wall of the shaft, and raised his long body upward.
While Ping Slatterly and his men were effecting the robbery in the penthouse, The Shadow, silent and unknown, was ascending the interior of the elevator shaft, fighting his way upward through the deep gloom of the all-pervading hush of blackness!
Strangely, the progress of this invisible being was timed with Ping Slatterly’s actions. At the very moment when the gang leader paused with his men at the open door of the fire tower, the hand of The Shadow clutched the door of the elevator shaft on the penthouse level!
While Ping was giving his final orders, The Shadow’s hands were working with the barrier. The heavy door moved slowly open. The gleam of the acetylene light greeted The Shadow’s eyes!
THE door of the shaft was outside the range of Slatterly’s special searchlight. The thick gloom of the black hush covered all of The Shadow’s actions. Ping Slatterly could not see the phantom form emerging through the door of the shaft; nor could The Shadow observe Ping’s outline behind the glare of the acetylene lantern.
Nevertheless, The Shadow’s actions were identical with those of the gang leader. While Ping Slatterly was drawing and leveling his revolver, the hand of The Shadow was bringing forth an automatic, to handle it with deadly aim!
Each had a different target. Ping Slatterly’s objective was Thaddeus Harmon; The Shadow’s was the gleaming lantern that hung from Ping Slatterly’s left fist!
Trigger fingers poised, unknown to each other. A man’s life was momentarily at stake. In that tense moment of decision, the chances seemed equal that Ping or The Shadow would fire first.
One element of mental reaction alone decided the result. Ping Slatterly, confident and firm in the belief that Thaddeus Harmon was a helpless victim, let his finger linger. The Shadow, knowing that the cowed group in the living room were at the mercy of lawless invaders, did not pause.
A shot rang out in the darkness. The powerful roar of an automatic forced its mighty sound through the repressing gloom. With that shot came a metallic crash as The Shadow’s bullet shattered the lantern in Ping Slatterly’s hand!
The lantern was extinguished. Down came the pall of the black hush, like a dropping cloud of ghostly darkness. A second shot broke the tension. The Shadow delivered a pot shot in the direction of his first.
This time he had no target, but his aim was limited to the small area by the fire-tower door.
Instinctively, the people in the living room scrambled for safety. They had lost their awe of the black hush in face of the gunfire menace. Ping Slatterly and his gangsters began a frenzied attack with their revolvers as they clustered toward the exit.
Smudgy flashes of flame from gangster revolvers gave The Shadow the targets that he needed. Each spurt from the fire-tower door gave The Shadow a new opportunity. With each burst of his automatic, he dropped back into the shaft, only to emerge for a new response.
Shots came from the living room. The detectives were crawling forward to action. The Shadow was forced to stay his fire.
The elevator door closed shut; bullets battered against it. The sleuths, not knowing from whence aid had come, were firing toward the elevators as well as the fire tower.
HAD the detectives not intervened, The Shadow, by his skillful tactics, might well have stayed the flight of the gangsters. The new turn of events, however, compelled him to withhold his fire. With no new shots coming from the elevators, the detectives directed all their efforts toward the corner exit.
Coming through the darkness, firing as they advanced, they stumbled over prostrate forms. Then the heavy door pressed shut. The sleuths beat vainly at the barricade. The gangsters had fled, leaving some of their companions on the floor.
A revolver spurted from a wounded gangster’s fist. It brought a frenzied response from the detectives’ guns. Fearing stabbing bullets from the floor, the sleuths emptied their revolvers.