Huge swords were stacked in one corner; other antique weapons were in view.
These, however, were not the items that interested the visitor. Kelroy was most concerned with a stack of boxes, all of teakwood, that were topped by a fragile vase.
Carefully, Kelroy removed the one breakable object, then lifted off a pile of boxes. The first had a plain top; the second was marked with a brass dragon. This was not the one that Kelroy wanted. Ku Luan had spoken of a box ornamented with a silver dragon.
The third box was plain. Kelroy was about to lift it from the stack when he imagined that he heard a sound from behind him. For a moment, he was on the point of turning; then he decided differently.
He knew that his nerves were keyed; he was sure, however, that he might have actually heard something.
He saw need for real caution, for he remembered another of Ku Luan’s injunctions. The dying Chinaman had told him to come here alone.
If some other visitor were present, that man did not belong here. It would be best to challenge the interloper; and to do that, Kelroy decided to make the intruder show his hand.
Deliberately, Kelroy shifted his body to cover the open from of the iron chest. Stooping, he fumbled with the boxes, keeping them well hidden.
Slight creaks came from the floor. Kelroy could sense footsteps creeping forward. The intruder was gobbling the bait. He was approaching, Kelroy was sure, to gain a closer watching post.
The footsteps were coming from the door. Obviously, the intruder was hoping to hide between a pair of crates, closer to the iron chest.
It was time for action! With a quick swing, Kelroy came to his feet, turning directly toward the spot where he was sure the intruder must be. Hands clenched, teeth close-set, Kelroy stared squarely toward a man who had crept half way across the room. The fellow was Wong Soy.
SURPRISED in an act of treachery, the black-bloused servant had made no effort to conceal his evil nature.
No longer impassive. Wong Soy had gained the look of a fiend. His ugliness was more apparent than it had been, back in the hall, when he had first expressed the eagerness that Kelroy had failed to observe.
Wong Soy’s lips were spread in voiceless snarl. His hands were clawlike, doubled against the front of his black jacket.
To another than David Kelroy, Wong Soy would have been a fearful sight. Kelroy, however, had spent all his life in the Orient. He was used to the ways of Chinese; he knew that those of the lower classes had a tendency to quail when challenged. Because of that, he showed no hesitation. Instead, he stepped directly toward Wong Soy. The Chinaman crouched.
“Why are you here?” demanded Kelroy. “Get back where you belong, Wong Soy. Back into the house. Report to Tsing Chan. Tell him I have sent you there; and explain to him why I sent you.”
The words had no effect upon Wong Soy.
Striding forward, Kelroy shot one hand toward the Chinaman’s shoulder. It was then that Wong Soy acted. Bouncing upward, he ripped forth a knife and hurled himself in a wild, quick thrust. His stabbing blade sped straight for the body of the American.
Again, Kelroy’s past experience saved him. He had been ready for this move. His own hand, jabbing leftward, deflected Wong Soy’s wrist. With a quick spring, Kelroy landed on the Chinaman and sent his attacker skidding halfway across the room.
Wong Soy still gripped the knife. Kelroy made a dive for the doorway and clicked out the light. He sprang into the outer room, looking quickly for some object that might serve as a weapon.
Wong Soy’s voice came in a babbling call. It was that cry that made Kelroy swing toward the outer door. The barrier was open; Wong Soy was shouting for aid from outside helpers. Hesitating no longer, Kelroy plunged through the outer room, in an attempt to gain the passage.
Men rose to meet him. Hard-faced thugs, with ready revolvers. A pair of them loomed into the light, pounding down upon their prey, with upraised guns. Behind them came another group, a trio of would-be murderers.
Wildly, Kelroy grappled with the first attacker, trying to stop the man’s swinging arm, hoping to use the thug’s body as a momentary bulwark against the other hoodlums.
BRIEF moments, only, would have remained for David Kelroy had he continued to fight alone. But in that time of needed rescue came aid that was unexpected.
Guns roared from the rear door of Ku Luan’s storeroom. Zipping bullets ricocheted from stone walls.
Howls arose as fierce-faced thugs went sprawling. With leveled revolvers, the invaders turned to fire in the direction of those gun bursts. The second of the two leading thugs went springing out to aid his companions, leaving Kelroy with one man alone.
As crooks fired along the passage, a mocking laugh pealed forth above the roar of guns. With it came stabbing tongues of withering flame, the jabs of heavy automatics, gripped by an unseen foe.
The Shadow had come from the rear of Ku Luan’s house. He had arrived in time to spy the mass attack by the aids whom Wong Soy had summoned.
These were the lurkers of whom Harry Vincent had spoken. Unlocated by The Shadow’s agents, this band of crooks had taken their post in the alleyway behind Ku Luan’s.
They were Zack Ruggey’s crew, and those who had come through the passage were but the vanguard.
A harsh command from the leader of that outside band. Zack Ruggey’s voice, calling for a mass attack.
Fuming crooks rose up to make a forward surge. They were stopped by a new attack, from the end of the alley itself.
Harry Vincent and Miles Crofton had found the men they wanted. The Shadow’s agents were entering the fray with a swift flank attack.
Thugs scattered as Zack howled his command to dive for cover. Wounded hoodlums were staggering from the passage. The very intensity of The Shadow’s fire created the illusion that men were with him.
Harry and Miles, spurred by the emergency, had begun an attack that indicated more than two men on the flank.
Zack then shouted a command to spread and dive for shelter. The Shadow’s agents hearing him deliver that order, took advantage of it by giving bold pursuit.
MEANWHILE another man had been putting up a good fight. David Kelroy, harassed by a lone thug, was struggling desperately within the doorway of Ku Luan’s storehouse.
Kelroy was long-limbed and wiry. He had gained a grip upon his opponent’s gun arm. The two were locked in a hard grapple, equally matched as they staggered back and forth across the lighted outer room.
The Shadow’s fight had been a swift one. His rapid fire had cleared the passage to the alley. As he struggled with the one opposing thug, Kelroy realized that the cessation of the shooting must mean that the way was open.
With a mad effort, the young man from Shanghai twisted toward the door, hoping to wrench away and take to flight.
Kelroy lost his grip upon the thug’s wrist. The rowdy’s gun hand descended. The revolver cracked against Kelroy’s warding forearm; the barrel of the weapon glanced sidewise and thudded against Kelroy’s head.
With a gasp, Kelroy staggered. Continuing his twist, he completed a long forward sprawl and plunged headlong through the door, rolling clear across the outside passage.
With a snarl, the thug aimed his revolver, intent to slay Kelroy before the young man could regain his feet.
The light from the room showed Kelroy coming up on his hands and knees. Then a sudden surge of blackness eliminated the crook’s view of his intended victim.
The would-be murderer spat an oath as he saw the mass of blackness take shape. A cloaked figure was driving in upon him; an automatic was looming from a gloved fist. The Shadow had arrived from the passage, just in time to prevent the death of David Kelroy.