The Shadow, turning, saw the outcome. With a swift whirl, he made for the door, firing as he went. He had stemmed the crooks’ gunfire; sweeping out into the night, he was bound upon new vengeance.
Cliff Marsland and Harry Vincent, crouched behind a low wall, were exchanging shots with ruffians in the offing. They and The Shadow had shot down the ones who had made for the house. The rest were stationed in the background.
A snarl came in Konk Zitz’s voice. With it, a growl from Tinker Furris. The two had seen The Shadow appear in momentary fashion. Rising, they aimed for their archenemy.
Cliff Marsland spotted Konk and fired. His bullet clipped the big shot.
Tinker was shooting toward the house. His slugs were chipping stone from the wall. His aim was wide of the elusive, unseen figure in black. Then, as Harry aimed to get Tinker, a shot burst from the darkness. The gloom showed Tinker sprawling by a tree trunk.
Sweeping across the dim lawn, The Shadow sent shots after the last fleeing members of Konk’s crew. Puppet forms sprawled along the gravel drive. Cliff and Harry were in view. The Shadow hissed an order for their departure. He swung back toward the house.
Sounds of conflict indicated that Malden and his two henchmen had been captured. Such was the case; but Malden, fiendish in power, was not through. He was holding his revolver; but he could not use it. A detective, arriving to aid Rush and Dunham, snatched the weapon from the archcrook’s grasp.
Toya and Singler were downed. But Malden made his sudden break. He sent Rush rolling across the table. He hurled Dunham upon Mushmug, the detective. With a wild leap Malden grabbed the silencer-fitted death gun from the table and sprang free toward the side door of the conservatory. He stopped short.
The Shadow had returned.
BLACKNESS moved inward. As he heard a mocking laugh, Malden caught the glow of burning eyes. Maddened, he fired a quick shot with the weapon that he had seized. The death gun emitted a sighing sound. Its silent bullet dug deep into the door frame that stood white beside The Shadow’s shoulder.
Hard on the hiss of the silencer came a roaring burst from the door. Strafford Malden sagged. The murderous gun dropped from his grasp. The death weapon had failed the supercrook.
Men turned as they heard Malden’s gargling gasp. Grewling came pouncing over to trap the prostrate fiend.
The police chief stopped. His efforts were not needed. With a hideous coughing, Strafford Malden gave his last breath. His arms sprawled. He was dead.
Grewling turned toward the door. So did others. They saw blackness only. The Shadow had departed.
Silence lay without. All tokens of the outer fight were ended. With Malden dead; with Toya and Singler prisoners, the law had won its fight.
Outside lay bodies of dead killers. But those did not concern the men in the conservatory. Below lay purloined treasure; wealth in molded gold and studded gems that they must find and restore to its proper place.
Turning to his companions, Police Chief Grewling was about to give an order. Words stopped on his lips. Like others, the police chief stood rigid as he listened. From somewhere in the outer darkness, its distance indefinable, came the tones of a strange, outlandish mockery.
Rising on the night air, the weird tone reached a startling crescendo. Eerily, it burst into a shuddering, fading taunt. Echoes rifled their ghoulish answer as the laugh reached its sudden finish.
Then the night air stilled.
Clyde Burke could see the frozen amazement upon the faces of his delivered companions. He knew the reason why they stood aghast. They had heard the triumph laugh of The Shadow!