Cliff saw death. He could picture himself slain with Duster and King Zobell. The big shot and two dead bodyguards. That would be a perfect smoke screen for Diamond Rigler’s treachery!
“Ss-s-s-s-s-s!”
King Zobell cowered as he heard The Cobra’s hiss. Trapped, the big shot was a pitiful figure. His big, bluff face showed terror.
The Cobra showed no mercy. Upright at the door, he pressed the trigger. The revolver barked. King Zobell uttered a hoarse gasp that ended sharply.
The big shot crumpled in his chair. His hands slipped from the sides and dangled loosely. A red splotch began to form upon his white shirt front — the life blood drawn by The Cobra’s bullet!
THERE was no hiss as The Cobra turned toward Cliff Marsland. But those painted eyes formed a merciless expression. Cliff was due to die. Fiercely, he took the only course that offered life.
With a wild leap, Cliff flung himself on Diamond Rigler. He caught the man off guard. He grabbed Diamond’s right wrist with his left hand; with his right arm he seized his foeman’s body. Grappling, Cliff drew Diamond back across the room, using the man’s body as shield against The Cobra’s fire.
Coldly, The Cobra watched the struggle. It could be no more than futile. Sooner or later, the pair would break. Cliff’s unprotected body would be an easy target for The Cobra’s aim. Cliff realized this as he fought. He made a bold clutch for Diamond’s gun and failed to grab it.
Diamond, lunging his left hand free, delivered a blow to Cliff’s jaw. Cliff staggered and sprawled against the door to the front of the apartment. Half stunned, he lay there.
The Cobra was watching from the door. His revolver was idle in his hand. Cliff saw why, as he turned to gaze at Diamond Rigler. With a vengeful snarl, Diamond was raising his own gun to end Cliff Marsland’s life.
Calmly, Cliff closed his eyes. He could not stop the shot. Murder was in the making; Cliff was to be its victim. Surging thoughts swept through Cliff’s brain. They ended with a surprise that opened Cliff’s eyes.
A crash came from beyond the spot where Diamond Rigler stood aiming. Impelled by a terrific smash from without, the entire glass of the window frame had been smashed inward.
Beyond the shivered pane were a pair of blazing eyes, peering from blackness. A gloved hand gripped the bars beyond the window; from another fist projected the muzzle of a mighty automatic.
The Shadow had arrived! He had come by the roof of the apartment house — over the precarious cornice to the window below.
Though too late to witness the death of King Zobell, The Shadow had come in time to fight for Cliff Marsland’s life. Out of the night had The Shadow come — for his meeting with The Cobra!
CHAPTER XVII
THE SHADOW’S SKILL
THE SHADOW’S turn had come. That looming automatic, thrust through a shattered glass, was a weapon that could mean The Cobra’s woe. The Shadow had gained his opportunity to cover The Cobra and demand the strange rival to reveal his purposes.
But the desired meeting held one flaw. To deal with The Cobra, The Shadow would have had to disregard the safety of his agent, Cliff Marsland. Diamond Rigler, vicious and frenzied, had finger on revolver trigger. He was about to loose the shot that would mean Cliff Marsland’s life.
The Shadow’s automatic thundered in the confines of the room. The flash of flame was not directed toward The Cobra. Its spurt was made toward Diamond Rigler. There was not time to stop that pressing trigger; Shadow’s bullet accomplished its appointed end.
Diamond Rigler’s body twisted as his hand fired. Sprawled by The Shadow’s shot, Diamond’s aim went wide. A bullet splintered the door a foot above Cliff Marsland’s head.
Deliberately, The Shadow had given opportunity to The Cobra. The black-clad arrival was risking his own life to save that of Cliff Marsland. As The Shadow dropped Diamond Rigler, The Cobra wheeled. His warning hiss came as he aimed point-blank and fired at The Shadow.
A fighter who worked in split seconds, The Shadow had foreseen this quick reply. Even while he fired at Diamond Rigler, The Shadow was working to thwart The Cobra’s aim. His black form was dropping as the automatic spoke. Eyes and right hand fell from view while the left hand slid down the vertical bar which it gripped.
The Cobra’s shot, aimed for The Shadow’s eyes, whistled through the top of the slouch hat and zimmed on into space.
The Cobra aimed a second shot. This one was for the hand that clutched the bar. Again, The Cobra was a split second late. The Shadow had caught the window ledge with his right hand. His left dropped as The Cobra pressed the trigger. A bullet from The Cobra’s revolver clanged the upright bar which The Shadow’s hand had left.
The roaring gunplay had brought Cliff Marsland to his senses. Leaning against the wall, The Shadow’s agent was pulling his automatic from his pocket. As The Cobra’s gun delivered another futile bark, Cliff aimed for the grotesque figure in brown.
SOMEHOW, The Cobra sensed the menace. He wheeled. Cliff fired hastily; his shot went wide. The Cobra did not fire in response. He had no time for aim, as Cliff was steadying for a second shot. Still whirling, The Cobra gained the anteroom, just in time.
With the bark of Cliff’s gun, The Shadow had reappeared beyond the window. His automatic, resting at the bottom of the bars, with his blazing eyes beside the muzzle, loosed new fire just as The Cobra leaped from view. Only the projecting edge of the doorway saved The Cobra in his flight.
Cliff, still a trifle dazed, missed a second shot; then clambered to his feet. With automatic in hand, he dashed across the anteroom. The Cobra had taken the elevator to the lobby below.
Cliff hurried back into the living room. The Shadow was gone from the window. Cliff stood looking at the bodies on the floor. Duster Corbin — Diamond Rigler — both were dead. The form of King Zobell lay slumped in its chair.
This was one of those emergencies in which The Shadow relied upon his agents to use their own ability. The Shadow had saved Cliff’s life. He had balked The Cobra. The Shadow’s rival was in flight.
The iron bars, set in the wall beyond the window, were a barrier that would have taken too long to break. Cliff realized that The Shadow, forced to depart by the precarious way up to the roof, would be delayed.
It was, furthermore, unwise for Cliff to remain. He saw how he could aid The Shadow! There was still time to bring up the elevator and descend to the street before The Shadow could arrive there. Cliff had a slender chance to trail The Cobra.
Dashing back to the elevator shaft, Cliff pressed the button to raise the car. He entered the lift and descended. He hurried through the lobby to the street. As he paused there, he fancied that he heard the distant sound of a police whistle, off in back of the apartment building.
A cab was standing by the curb, Cliff approached the driver. The man reached to open the door.
“See anyone come out of the apartment house?” queried Cliff.
“Yeah,” returned the driver, gruffly. “A funny looking guy—”
“Which way did he go?”
“Grabbed a cab that was down the street. Pulled out toward the avenue and—”
“Get going. See if you can catch him.”
Cliff bounded into the cab as he spoke. The driver slammed the door. As Cliff leaned through the front window, the cab jerked away from the curb. It shot toward the corner.
Something moved in the darkness of the cab. Cliff turned, startled, as he heard a hiss beside him. He was staring squarely into the muzzle of a revolver; behind it, luminous in the gloom, loomed the painted hood of The Cobra.