The Shadow must be reached! That was Cliff’s one realization. Could The Shadow hear Cliff’s story, he would know amazing facts! With that thought, Cliff Marsland flung himself sidewise from the cot and staggered to his feet.
The room spun. With crazy, whirling gait, Cliff plunged toward a wall as though his steps were taking him down a ramp. He slipped as his fingers failed to hold the cracks which they sought. Slumping, Cliff sprawled against the rounded wicker basket. It rolled over and the lid came off.
“Ss-s-s-s-s-s-s!”
Half rising, Cliff stared in the direction of the sound. A new creature of fantastic appearance was before him — a living snake — a cobra! Cliff uttered a gasp as he saw the venomous serpent lift its hood. This deadly creature — pet of The Cobra — was about to strike. It could deliver venom more potent than that of its master!
Cliff did not hear the click of the bolt behind him. He did not feel the swish of air that came from the opening door. The cobra’s hood was poised to strike. Cliff was staring, powerless to move.
Suddenly the gleam of a flashlight was reflected in the wicked, beady eyes of the reptile. Blinded by the light, the snake paused in its stroke.
A terrific shot reechoed in Cliff’s ear. It was the discharge of a heavy automatic; caught by the stone walls, the report was cannon-like. Hood and head were blown from the cobra’s body. The writhing length of the snake wriggled on the floor.
Amid the repeated echoes of the pistol shot came the strident tones of a sardonic laugh. The fate of this real cobra was an omen. It was The Shadow’s challenge to The Cobra. Slumped by the wall, Cliff Marsland gasped again as he stared into the eyes of The Shadow!
KEENLY, The Shadow discerned his agent’s plight. With strong arm, he gripped Cliff’s body and raised the half-drugged man from the wall. He carried Cliff to the cot and placed him there.
From beneath his cloak, The Shadow produced a small vial filled with a purplish liquid. He uncorked it and placed the little bottle to Cliff’s lips. Cliff dropped back as a pungent odor filled his nostrils. Firmly, The Shadow pressed the vial. Gulping, Cliff took the draught.
The room whirled. Cliff collapsed upon the cot. Yet as he lay there, he could feel a potent fire that seemed to bring new life through his veins. The Shadow’s keen eyes watched the blood creep to Cliff’s forehead. Then The Shadow turned and stepped over to examine the switchboard.
Choosing plugs with care, The Shadow inserted them in the board. He spoke, in low, whispered tones. Cliff Marsland raised himself on one elbow and stared, despite his dizziness, as he heard a voice reply:
“Vincent speaking.”
“Report,” whispered The Shadow.
“Men assembled outside the Black Ship,” came Harry’s voice. “Cars waiting in an alleyway.”
“Join Burke,” ordered The Shadow.
The gloved hands were busy with the plugs. Again, the whisper. Another voice sounded from the plug box.
“Burke speaking.”
“Report.”
“Ready with the sedan.”
“Await Vincent,” ordered The Shadow. Then a pause: “Also wait fifteen minutes after his arrival, Marsland may join you.”
“Instructions received,” came Clyde’s reply.
A soft laugh rippled from The Shadow’s lips as the black hands pulled the plugs. Cliff stared steadily now; his head no longer swam; his eyes were filled with keen interest.
The Shadow had solved The Cobra’s system. More than that; from The Cobra’s lair he was using The Cobra’s own equipment in order to instruct Harry Vincent and Clyde Burke on the work they were to do!
The Shadow arose. He approached the cot and stood above Cliff Marsland. The agent looked squarely into his chief’s eyes. He felt the power of The Shadow’s burning gaze.
“You heard The Cobra?” questioned The Shadow.
Cliff nodded.
“What did he say?”
“He gave orders,” declared Cliff, as he strove to remember. “Orders — to men whom he called fangs.”
Cliff paused; then, mechanically, he repeated disjointed phrases. There was not a full sentence among them. They were not in the order that The Cobra had uttered them. Yet The Shadow seemed to understand. More capably than Cliff, he was piecing together the broken statements.
“You saw The Cobra,” whispered The Shadow.
“Yes,” returned Cliff. “He — he came in here alone. I could not see his face. He went” — Cliff paused to point to the door of the closet — “over there. He — he came out as The Cobra. I was dizzy.”
The Shadow moved toward the closet. He drew out garments — among them two long, wrinkled garbs of brown. He held them up to exhibit painted hoods. Cliff shuddered at the recollection; then steadied.
“He — he put on one of those,” gasped Cliff. “It — it was after that he spoke. He — he said he would outlaw The Shadow. That — that tonight he—”
Cliff was weakening. He sank back on the cot. He felt what he was sure could be no more than a last spell of dizziness. After that, he would have his strength. He was sure of it; but for the moment, he could not speak, so weak he was.
“And then?” came The Shadow’s whisper.
“The Cobra!” blurted Cliff. “He — he went back to the closet. I–I saw him. I–I was dizzy. I–I thought that everything was going black — that I was falling — but that I would be safe for—”
A WHISPERED laugh came from The Shadow’s hidden lips. Cliff Marsland had settled back upon the cot. His mind was secure; but he could no longer speak. It was unnecessary.
The Shadow’s laugh was the sign that he had learned all that he needed to know. He had divined the full meaning of Cliff’s disjointed statements. He had formed a complete report from wandering utterances.
Cliff lay quietly upon the cot. The Shadow moved about the room. Time was floating leisurely in Cliff’s mind, although moments only were passing. With eyes still closed, Cliff felt himself raised up from the cot. He was moving to the stairs, gripped by The Shadow.
Cliff’s footsteps clicked on stone. The dampness of the stairway revived him. Urged onward by The Shadow’s arm, hearing The Shadow’s whisper in his ear, Cliff reached the top.
In the furnished room, he saw the old man prone upon the couch. Cliff could see a fearful look in the bound prisoner’s eyes. The man was staring at the figure of The Shadow. The glimpse ended as Cliff reached the door toward which The Shadow aided him. Then came the darkness of the passage; after that an outer door.
Through a blackened alleyway, Cliff Marsland still felt The Shadow close beside him. Across a street; another narrow way. Night air was reviving. It added the final touch to the potent liquid which Cliff had swallowed. They reached a street. On the other side, Cliff saw a parked car. He heard The Shadow’s whisper.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” replied Cliff, firmly.
“I have placed an automatic in your pocket,” declared The Shadow. “Join Vincent and Burke in the car. They will tell you the rest.”
Cliff nodded. With firm footsteps, he moved from the alleyway. He paused a moment to grip the wall and steady himself. He did not see The Shadow in the darkness. Turning, momentarily, he realized that his chief had withdrawn.
Cliff grinned. He was ready now. He headed across the street, steady and alert. As he advanced to join the other agents of The Shadow, he heard a weird whisper that rose behind him.
It was the laugh of The Shadow! From The Cobra’s lair, the master fighter had rescued his agent and had dispatched him to join the others who were waiting.