Hype strode toward Dave and the curator. He pocketed Dave’s keys, which he saw beside a silver statue. Grasping the small gold image, he pulled it and its sliding ledge completely free and flung them clattering to the stone floor. He stared into the opening beneath the niche.
A sudden snarl came from Hype’s lips. The gambler rasped an oath as he spun about. For a moment, he fumed; then he became coherent.
“It’s empty!” spat Hype. “Empty! Someone lifted the swag!”
Hype’s eyes bulged suddenly as they spied the outer door. Singledon had left that barrier ajar. It was swinging open as Hype stared. Alone, of all the crooks, Hype saw the figure of vengeance that had appeared upon the threshold.
Cloaked in black, armed with bulking automatics, a master fighter had arrived. Hype Mellick knew the identity of that foe of crime. The being in the doorway was The Shadow!
CHAPTER XXII. SPOILS RECLAIMED
THE SHADOW had entered the museum by the route that he had chosen before. Delayed by his trip to the Coronado Apartments, he had not arrived until events in the Chinese Room had neared their climax.
He had heard the finish of Mark Eldreth’s tirade; then had come the muffled explosion that had shattered the pedestal of the Manchu statue.
From that moment, The Shadow had waited, vigilant. He had known that crooks were due for a surprise; he had chosen the approaching moment as the proper time for action. Opportunity had come. The Shadow had taken it.
Hype Mellick, alone, had gained knowledge of The Shadow’s presence a brief two seconds before the moment when The Shadow had planned that all should learn of his advent.
Before crooks could guess why Hype stood startled and transfixed; a weird sound burst from the opened doorway. The taunt of a sinister laugh rang out in strident challenge. Astonished at the burst of sardonic mirth, every man in the Chinese Room wheeled toward the source of the mocking cry.
Mark and Singledon spun about together, holding their leveled revolvers. Hype was holding his .38 lowered in his right hand. Impelled by the emergency, he brought the weapon upward.
Zack Ruggey was stooping as he beckoned to his henchmen. He whirled about as he heard The Shadow’s gibe. Like the others, Zack sought to gain quick aim at the shrouded figure in the doorway. As for the thugs within the passage, two had already thrust their heads and shoulders up into the room. They were holding guns; but their position placed them at a disadvantage. They were the last to aim.
Boldly, openly, The Shadow had made himself the target of murderous revolvers. His deed, however, had been wise as well as timely. The very cadence of his laugh had brought every killer toward him; thus had The Shadow made the crooks divert their aim from helpless, contemplated victims.
Though his foes were several, The Shadow held the upper hand. His guns were ready, while those of enemies were wildly on the move. Moreover, The Shadow had counted upon the prompt aid of the men whom he had released. Events broke as The Shadow had anticipated.
REVOLVERS barked, while automatics spurted. Crooks jabbed their opening shots as The Shadow began his fire. But the first bullets from the revolvers were dispatched in haste. They cracked the stony walls beside the doorway; they clanged the brass of the half-opened door itself. The Shadow’s guns, in contrast, were aimed straight for living targets.
Hype Mellick and Zack Ruggey first. Both were straight ahead, Hype at farther range. The Shadow’s left-hand gun was tilted higher than the right. Both weapons were perfect in their aim. Hype tumbled forward, snarling, as he pumped useless, hopeless shots. Zack sprawled as he fired wildly.
The Shadow’s left gun swung to the left, for Mark and Singledon, while his right-hand weapon aimed downward toward the exit of the underground passage. Shots were coming from both directions. Mark and Singledon had opened fire; so had the crooks in the hole below the statue.
As he fired again, The Shadow sprang forward, downward from the steps. Revolver bullets whistled high; The Shadow’s laugh was mocking. Mark and Singledon were springing forward from the left; the crooks in the opening were bounding upward. The Shadow’s automatics delivered withering shots.
One stream of bullets nipped Singledon, who was ahead of Mark. The attendant’s body stopped the hail, blocking The Shadow’s aim at Mark. The slugs from the other .45 sprawled the pair of thugs who were clambering from the hole. Others appeared behind them. The Shadow aimed both automatics toward the newcomers. Wild-eyed thugs dropped back to cover.
The Shadow had no further need to deal with Singledon and Mark. He had dropped the attendant; already, Dave Kelroy had jumped forward to wrest the revolver from Singledon’s loosening fist. As for Mark, two men had pounced upon him. Inspector Romson and Colin Eldreth had gripped the master crook’s gun arm and were lurching Mark about the floor
For a moment, the blast of guns was stilled. Then, from underground, came muffled barks of other weapons. Crooks had decided on a getaway. They were meeting with opposition at the farther end of their subterranean passage.
SILENTLY, The Shadow was backing toward the steps; he calmly placed his automatics beneath his cloak. His hands drew out a brace of fresh weapons while the noise of underground gunfire came closer.
The rescued prisoners formed a rigid tableau. Mark was tight in the grip of Romson and Colin. Dave was standing with Singledon’s revolver. All had reached a spot just beyond the tilted Manchu statue. Past them were Dryer and Lestman, too amazed to move.
Barking revolvers, muffled, told that the trapped crooks were coming back in this direction. The Chinese Room was their only outlet. Yet the forms upon the floor: Hype, Zack, Singledon and the two thugs — those were proofs of the fate that new criminals might expect.
When the surge came, it was sudden. Thugs en masse bobbed from the hole in the center of the floor.
Those ahead were thrust upward by the ones in back of them. Guns glimmered in the fists of the first pair, the vanguard of a dozen desperate criminals.
Aids of The Shadow had entered the house from which the crooks had burrowed their tunnel. Blocking the pathway, valiant fighters had stopped the getaway. The thugs had chosen the only course. They were prompt to regret their choice of the Chinese Room.
The only foe whom they could see was The Shadow; for he held the door, while the rescued men were beyond the leaning statue. Thrust upward from the outlet of the tunnel, the first two crooks tugged at the triggers of their revolvers. Ready-aimed, they fired as The Shadow performed a sudden, sidewise fade.
Elated oaths from snarling lips. Crouched on the floor, the two thugs thought they had gained a hit. They were wrong. From the blackness of The Shadow’s cloak front, two automatics spoke their deadly thrusts. At the same time, the two thugs bounded upward. Thrust clear by their companions, they staggered against the heavy bronze statue.
From the floor came upraised hands, gunless. Below, muffled guns were delivering new staccatos.
Coming crooks had seen the fate of their companions who had tried to down The Shadow. They knew that further fight against such a foe was useless. The sound of gunfire below told them that all hope of retreat was ended.
One man alone was roused to desperate fight. That was Mark Eldreth. While writhing crooks were clawing at the surface of the Manchu statue, Mark acted with sudden fury. Romson had wrested away Mark’s gun. With a sudden cry, the master crook snatched at the weapon to claim it.
Twisted between Romson and Colin, Mark had a chance. Dave had Singledon’s gun; but could not fire.
Clawing, Mark regained his own revolver from Romson. The inspector was gripping the barrel; Mark had the handle.