Harry wrestled away from the Chinaman and took aim with his automatic. With a wild cry, the Celestial dived into the doorway. His last companion heard his call and pitched Dave Kelroy to the sidewalk.
Harry fired hastily as this fellow also took to the doorway. The shots were wide.
Four Chinamen were on the run; and Harry might have followed them, for the Mexicans had by this time made their getaway. But there was a good reason why Harry failed to take up the chase. Dave Kelroy had slumped against the wall, half groggy from a thud that his head had received. Dave needed Harry’s aid.
Harry hauled him to his feet and started to drag him along the sidewalk. As they neared the corner, the purr of a motor caused Harry to turn about.
A coupe had rolled alongside. From it was springing a man whose face Harry recognized. The arrival was Colin Eldreth, whom Harry had last seen battling with Miles Crofton. Colin was without his gun; Harry had pocketed his own weapon. Colin was coming to seize Dave Kelroy. Harry dropped the groggy man and swung to meet Colin.
Harry had shown himself a remarkable fighter when he had routed four Chinamen. Here was a lone opponent, who seemed easy to contend with. Harry shot a hard punch; Colin ducked as he warded it off with his left hand.
Then, from his crouched position, Colin jabbed a swift fist upward. The punch drove past Harry’s guarding left. It clipped Harry’s chin. Staggering backward, The Shadow’s agent cracked against the wall and slumped downward to the sidewalk.
With a contemptuous laugh, Colin jerked Dave Kelroy back to his feet and rolled the young man into the coupe. Colin dashed around the car and jumped to the wheel. He saw Harry Vincent coming slowly to hands and knees. With another laugh, Colin shot the car into gear.
HARRY shook his head and stared at the departing tail-light. He was over the effects of the punch; it had staggered, but had not stunned him. He knew that Kelroy was being taken away — the coupe had reached the corner, and there was no chance to stop it, even with a pistol shot. But the tail-light was a bright one. By its glare, Harry spotted the license number of the car. Then the coupe had turned the corner.
Harry came to his feet. He was alone upon this street. Shrill whistles were sounding from the distance.
Police were again converging within Chinatown. They had arrived late last night; they would be late again tonight.
Thugs had been scattered, the Mexicans had made a getaway with the teakwood box; the Chinese had doubtless fled through some side passage from the bazaar. Once more, Dave Kelroy, a prospective victim, had departed from the danger zone.
Yet Harry was not sure of Kelroy’s safety. Colin Eldreth, whose name, like Kelroy’s, was unknown to Harry, had come to carry the rescued man away. That action could have been a bluff on Colin’s part.
Once Kelroy had escaped assassination within the bazaar, it was policy for Colin to act as Kelroy’s friend.
Until he thought of Crofton, Harry had been perplexed regarding the proper course to follow, now that Colin, like the Mexicans and Chinese, had made a getaway.
Harry was not concerned about The Shadow; he knew that his chief had actually cleared a way through the front door of the bazaar. But Harry could picture Miles, wounded or dead, on the floor beside the bodies of thugs who had fought against The Shadow.
Hastening back to the rear door, Harry regained the passage that he and Kelroy had used for exit. This time, he used a flashlight, for he was sure that the place had cleared. Sending the gleam ahead of him, Harry made toward the doorway where the fallen screen was lying.
Hardly had he reached that spot before another light gleamed close beside him. Harry was bathed in the glare of focused rays. He turned quickly, with his automatic ready, only to hear a hissed command.
Lowering his gun, Harry held his flashlight fixed.
There stood The Shadow, still in his hawklike disguise. He was supporting a man who leaned heavily upon him: Miles Crofton. Except for those two, the auction room was empty. Tsing Chan and the auctioneer must have scurried away like the other Chinese.
MILES CROFTON was trying to support himself. His eyes were opened and as Harry came up, Miles shoved his free arm over his fellow agent’s shoulder. The Shadow gave an order.
Harry turned off his flashlight, and The Shadow did the same. Picking a course through darkness, they took the doorway by the fallen screen, carrying Crofton between them.
“Report,” came The Shadow’s low-toned order.
Harry told his own episodes: how he had conducted Kelroy to safety; how they had seen the Mexicans with the teakwood box. He briefly described the fight with the four Chinamen and added the details of Colin’s departure with Dave. Harry repeated the license number of the coupe.
They had reached the rear street. The Shadow was leading them across, to a darkened alley that offered a path for departure before the police arrived. Already sirens were telling that the law was close at hand.
Miles Crofton muttered as they entered the black alley.
“Slugged me,” Miles mumbled. “That’s what the fellow did. Slugged me after the lights were out. I’m all right now. I can walk.”
The last to depart from the Chinese bazaar, The Shadow and his agents were unscathed. Again had The Shadow conquered mighty odds; and his agents had done their best to aid him. Yet victory had been hollow.
Dave Kelroy still remained to be sought. The teakwood box with the silver dragon had become the property of crooks, and must be gained. More work lay ahead for The Shadow.
CHAPTER XI. NEW PLANS BEGIN
IT was two o’clock the next afternoon. Dave Kelroy was seated in Colin Eldreth’s living room. The click of the door latch caused him to look nervously in that direction. Relief showed on Dave’s face as Colin entered.
“Hello, old top,” greeted Colin, with a cheery smile. He planked a stack of newspapers upon the table.
“Well, the afternoon sheets don’t know any more than the morning newspapers did. The police are still traveling in circles.”
“They are no worse than I am,” observed Dave, wearily. “This is getting to be a habit with me, this business of being banged on the head every night. I was still in a daze when I woke up this morning.”
“So I noticed,” laughed Colin. “The more I talked to you, the less you paid attention. How do you feel now?”
“Lots better, thanks. Good enough to talk things over sensibly. That is, if you have time, Colin.”
“That’s what I’m here for, Dave.”
“No appointment this afternoon? You had one yesterday. I thought that maybe—”
“I had to drop in at my club,” interrupted Colin, suddenly. He eyed Dave quickly, as he spoke. “That was why I had to leave you here alone, yesterday afternoon. I usually stop at the club in the evening; but since we were going to the Chinese bazaar last night I went to the club earlier.”
DAVE wondered why Colin had dwelt at length on the subject of the club. Dave put a question:
“An exclusive place, your club?”
“Very exclusive,” replied Colin, pausing as he lighted a cigarette. “Old families, exorbitant dues, and all that. Grandfather was a member of the Pioneer Club, so I have to keep up the tradition. Well, Dave, let’s get back to our talk about last night. We nosed ourselves into a bit of trouble, didn’t we?”
“Too much of it,” returned Dave, ruefully rubbing the side of his head. “Things certainly went haywire as soon as we saw the teakwood box with the silver dragon. Tsing Chan must have guessed that the box was what I wanted. But how did he find out?”
“He must have spotted you, Dave. Perhaps you gave yourself away.”
“Maybe. Yet I thought that Tsing Chan didn’t even see me. Of course, those rowdies were much closer to me than he was. Do you think, Colin, that someone who was watching me could have passed the word to both Tsing Chan and the hoodlums?”