Arlene, herself, solved that problem, and with it, produced another. Realizing that the lighted doorway was a bad place to be, she sprang into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Almost instantly, there was a muffled crash from the bedroom window.
The Shadow reached the door, swung it inward. Arlene had turned, to meet a masked thug who was springing in to grab her. She was belated in her aim; so was the man who sought to slay her, for he had landed on hands and knees inside the sill.
Coming up, the new foeman made a grab for Arlene's gun hand and caught it. As he wrested her .22
away, he started a slugging blow for the girl's head. The long arm of The Shadow thrust in between, halted the murderous slash. As Arlene broke away, she stared in amazement at the quick grapple that followed.
She saw a cloaked being in black who had come seemingly from nowhere, to pick that quarrel with a sweatered thug. Cloaked arms were locked with those of the thwarted killer. The thug's face was venomous as he pulled his gun hand high and clear, ready for a downward blow.
Arlene shrieked an unneeded warning. Before the slugging fist could descend, a muffled gunshot sounded. Arlene saw the thug sag from The Shadow's grasp. She spied a gloved fist that gripped a smoking automatic.
Then, as Arlene sprang to join her rescuer, The Shadow met her with an arm sweep that sent her staggering through the doorway to the living room. With a twist, he dropped to the floor inside the bedroom window, just as the rattle of a machine gun spoke from the low roof of a garage.
RAKING bullets whined above The Shadow's head, to spatter the wall of the bedroom. Those slugs ripped away the single floor lamp that illuminated the room. Darkness came; the machine gunners no longer had hope of picking a target. They halted their useless fire.
They were to regret their move. A gibing laugh came from the window; with it, the quick flashes of an automatic. Uncannily, The Shadow was picking out human targets against the dim background of the garage roof.
Huddled figures sprawled; others dragged them away, beneath the shelter of a low parapet. That gun crew was clearing out; the luckier crooks were hauling the machine gun along with their wounded pals.
Arlene hadn't realized how the fight had gone. It was the first time that she had witnessed The Shadow in battle. Fearing for her rescuer, Arlene dashed to the apartment door, yanked it open, to call for aid. A man from the hallway blocked her. She whipped back at sight of a pointed revolver.
Springing into the room, the fellow grabbed her, pulled her out into the hallway, toward a flight of stairs at the back.
Before the crook could do murder, he heard the laugh of The Shadow. It came from the door of the apartment. Looking across Arlene's shoulder, that last invading thug spied the cloaked avenger.
The Shadow could not see the glowering face beyond Arlene, but he spied the hand that clutched the girl's neck. It was a hand he recognized, for it lacked a second finger. Moreover, it had a jagged scar that ran almost to the wrist.
That hand belonged to a crook named Bosco Treff. Oddly, it was to save its owner's life.
The Shadow wanted a living thug, who could tell the name of the leader who controlled the ill-assorted band that showed up everywhere. Cobber Lokum had died too soon. Bosco Treff was going to live a while.
Bosco did what The Shadow expected. He responded to The Shadow's challenge by flinging Arlene aside. With the same move, Bosco whipped back into the darkness of the stairway, to take aim. The Shadow saw the glimmer of the revolver in Bosco's one good fist.
Already aiming, The Shadow squeezed the trigger of his automatic. The bullet clanged Bosco's gun; it should have ricocheted to crack the thug's wrist. Bosco's hand chanced to be twisting when the slug arrived. His gun jounced from his numbed fingers, but he received no wound.
Madly, Bosco dived for the stairway. Again, he was fortunate. The Shadow aimed for his shoulder, not his head. Stumbling, Bosco pitched far enough ahead. The bullet barely grazed his coat. The Shadow followed, sweeping Arlene along with him.
There was safety in that closed stairway; much more than in the lighted hall, where some forgotten hoodlum might pop into sight.
THE stairs turned too sharply for The Shadow to get another shot at Bosco. Outside the house, the lucky thug made a corner of the building before The Shadow could spot him in the darkness. A clatter of footsteps marked Bosco's mad departure.
From all about, Arlene could hear the shriek of sirens. She knew that police were on the way here. She feared for The Shadow, wondering if his part would be understood. Arlene wanted her rescuer to be away; and she was anxious to go with him.
She had feared the attack that had come tonight. It fitted with her qualms concerning Dick. Though she hadn't expressed the thought to Lawsham, she had felt that she would find trouble if she made efforts to locate Dick Remingwood.
At the present moment, Arlene's chief worry was The Shadow's dilemma. She gasped for him to go ahead, saying that she would try to follow. If she failed to get clear she could talk to the police. She would tell them about the crooks, but would not mention The Shadow.
Arlene's protests were ignored. The Shadow drew her along as he picked a course through passageways and courtyards. They reached a rear street and crossed it, to enter another maze. It was bewildering, the way The Shadow picked his course with the glow of that tiny flashlight.
Then they were in a taxicab that arrived from a darkened parking spot, the instant that The Shadow wanted it. A speedy driver was wheeling them from one street to another, carrying them from the zone where the police cars had converged.
Arlene was listening to a whispered voice - a tone that carried a weird chill, yet to her ears was inspiring with the confidence it gave. The Shadow was telling her of a place where she could stay in safety; there to await word from him.
The girl spoke her agreement. In faltering but expressive words, she thanked her rescuer. The cab had slowed as it approached a traffic light; Arlene's eyes were lowered, as she spoke to the unseen personage in the thick darkness beside her.
When the cab jerked forward into the lights of the avenue, Arlene raised her head, hoping to meet The Shadow's gaze. Her eyes showed their beauty as they widened; but no one was present to admire them.
Arlene was alone, in the back seat of the cab. In the same mysterious way that he had come from blackness, The Shadow had departed!
CHAPTER XII. THE PAST LINK
LATE the next afternoon, Professor Lawsham had another caller - a young man who alighted from a cab and promptly ascended the steps of the old house. As he stood there in the dusk, the young chap took a sidelong glance toward the street.
No prowlers were visible; nor did parked cars look suspicious. Nevertheless, the street was a gloomy one; the sort that could hold lurkers. Despite that, the young man showed no tenseness. He was quite calm when a servant opened the door to admit him.
The visitor tendered a card. He was ushered into a parlor. Soon, Lawsham arrived from the laboratory; the professor was still studying the card that had been brought to him.
That card bore the name: "Star Detective Agency", with street address and telephone number. In a lower corner were the small-printed words: "Harry Vincent, Representative."
Looking up from the card, the professor eyed Vincent. He saw a clean-cut young man, well-dressed and earnest of countenance. Lawsham was a trifle surprised. He had expected to meet a hard-boiled visitor.
Harry Vincent was much more presentable than Lawsham expected a private detective to be.