Death yawned below. Enemies lay within. The Shadow paused. Was he planning to return to the only spot that afforded the slightest vestige of safety — the observation platform above? Only The Shadow knew; but others were soon to learn!
THERE were four men within the secret projection room tonight. Hector Fawcett was staring from the window, yet he could see but little, for the black ray swept close against the side. With Fawcett was the big shot, Goldy Tancred. Behind them stood Bowser Riggins, Goldy’s bodyguard.
In keeping with his promise, Goldy Tancred was supervising this end of the crime, while Clipper Hardigan did the work below. But the fourth member of the group was as important as anyone present.
In the darkness behind the glittering machine stood Hobbs, the operator.
Silently, this controller of the black ray awaited the orders that were to come. His hand was ready to lift the pall of the black hush at the end of the appointed time; ready, also, to restore it, should Hector Fawcett or Goldy Tancred give the word.
Deeming themselves safe from all attack, these fiends were gloating over crime which they were sure could never fail. The mighty ray of darkness that hurled forth the black hush had stilled action aboard the Garronic.
“We can’t be stopped tonight,” Hector Fawcett made the comment. “This is the job that can never fail.”
“Be ready, though,” advised Goldy Tancred. “Watch for the tugboats when we lift it. If they’re still close, give them more of the black.”
Bowser Riggins chuckled. As usual, he reflected the opinion of his chief, and Goldy Tancred had spoken in a tone of surety. Hobbs said nothing. Stolidly, this man who controlled the ray was performing his duty with the same perfection that he had employed before.
“Ten minutes,” announced Hector Fawcett. “That’s half the time they want. They’re getting what they’re after.”
“It’s a cinch.” commented Goldy. “Say — look at that black — the way it stretches out—”
Hector Fawcett laughed. He knew that Goldy Tancred was realizing the power of this ray. Blackness cutting within blackness, it made a weird and unbelievable spectacle.
“I never saw anything like it,” added Goldy. “Say — if anything ever came out of that black, you couldn’t see it until—”
The big shot’s sentence ended. A gasp came from his startled lips.
The cry caused Hector Fawcett to follow the direction of Goldy’s gaze. Bowser Riggins followed suit.
The three men of crime staggered backward in the face of a phenomenon more amazing than the shaft of gloom which they were viewing.
Out of the blackness came a living form. As if a portion of the black hush had detached itself from the steady, unerring ray, a creature of another world had materialized itself from that projected gloom.
Like a spirit of darkness, a tall form swung over the window ledge, and landed, in huddled shape, directly in front of the men who watched. Then, instead of a dwindled form, the sinister object stretched upward until it became the semblance of a tall, living being.
With a mighty spring, this weird monster leaped forward with outstretched arms, toward the three men.
Instinctively, the watchers broke for the sides of the room. Their cries caused Hobbs to see the object which had brought them ghastly fear. Grimly, the man at the black-ray machine faced this menace that had sprung from nowhere.
Through an opened window, nearly a thousand feet above the ground; from a formidable blackness that obliterated all objects in its path, had come the superman who had never yet failed in his combats with fiends of crime.
Out of the black ray — The Shadow!
His precipitous descent from the observation tower completed, the master of darkness had used the black shaft to his own advantage. It had furnished him the obscurity which he required to complete this weird attack.
The Shadow had arrived to take his foemen unawares. His objective was the glittering machine that evil brains had turned to the service of crime.
The hand of The Shadow was stretched forth to end the blackness that was now the aid of an attacking band. He was here — to fight the black hush at its very source!
Out of the ray — The Shadow!
CHAPTER XXVI. BELOW AND ABOVE
ONE light glowed aboard the motor ship Garronic. That illumination came from a powerful acetylene lantern in the firm fist of Clipper Hardigan. With water-front mobsters at his heels, this gang leader was advancing to an assured objective.
Playing the parts of passengers aboard the vessel, Clipper and his henchmen had ignored the cry of ashore. They had clustered close to the rear of the ship, all on the same deck, ready to head for the objective when the order came.
When the liner had been backed to midstream, the black hush fell. A few seconds later, Clipper Hardigan’s lantern broke the gloom.
Aboard a helpless ship, on which every means of illumination and power had been eliminated, Clipper urged his men toward the stairway that pointed directly toward the Siamese prince’s suite.
The tugboats? They were manned by Clipper’s henchmen. Like the motor ship, the smaller boats were wiped out of sight.
The stroke of the ray had been reserved for the moment when the tugs were ready to cast off. Yet they remained; for they were to serve Clipper and his henchmen in their flight.
The tugboats had no light now, but their primitive steam engines were not handicapped by the impelling force of the black hush. With his acetylene light, Clipper was out to gain the treasure of the Siamese prince; then to blaze a trail along a lower deck that would lead his crowd to the waiting tugs.
That was why Clipper wanted the black hush to stay. Plowing out from its depths, the tugs could steam away to safety. They would be clear, while confusion still reigned aboard the Garronic.
A perfect game — one which The Shadow was striving to defeat at the one spot where success might properly be gained; that room in the corner of the ninety-third floor of the Judruth Tower.
Clipper Hardigan and his mob reached their objective. Most of the passengers were on the decks. The way was clear below. Clipper’s men moved with the steady precision of soldiers advancing behind a timed barrage.
Stealthily, the black hush aiding in their creeping silence, the mobsters neared the door of the prince’s suite. Here, the glare of the light revealed an opening.
Startled members of the Siamese retinue had thought the light was friendly. They learned their mistake as one of Clipper’s mob fired an opening shot that implanted itself in the doorway.
The door swung shut, but mobsters hurtled forward and thrust it open. Then came resistance.
The prince was not in his cabin; but he had others here besides the Siamese servants. Detectives and ship’s officers, who had been deputed to guard the jewels temporarily, opened an unexpected fire.
They clipped the first gangster who had rushed in front of the light. Mobster shots responded from outside the door. A detective staggered; one of the Siamese servants fell. Clipper and his mob pressed onward as the defenders scattered before the overwhelming fire.
THIS suite possessed an inner room — almost a strong-room. Goldy Tancred had gained full knowledge of the arrangement. Acting in accordance, Clipper ordered his men forward. The brief battle had caused a delay. There was no time for waiting.
The gangsters swept into the main room of the suite. With one accord, the defenders had dived for the shelter of other rooms. While his men covered the barriers behind which detectives and officers had gone, Clipper used the acetylene lantern to bathe the entire scene with light.
Trusted lieutenants made for the strong-room. They smashed at the door, bursting it from its hinges. The defenders knew that their cause was hopeless; they hung to their places of safety, awaiting the return of the ship’s lights — the only aid which could equalize the struggle.