Finding a large closet, The Shadow stowed his bag behind a high stack of light bundles. These evidently contained blankets and linens that had been stored in the closet.
Unencumbered, The Shadow moved out into the hall. He reached the front stairs in time to see Perry Dolger leaving with James Jackling.
Zane was not in evidence; he had evidently remained in the library. Nor was Rowland present. The Shadow assumed that the servant was back in the outer kitchen.
Here was opportunity. The Shadow had taken advantage of the time lapse to make ready for an investigation of the house. He began an inspection of the second floor, going from room to room, blinking the tiny flashlight as he required it.
Fifteen minutes passed. Suddenly, The Shadow came to a stop in the second-floor hall. His ears had detected a slight sound from somewhere below. The rear stairway was close at hand. The Shadow knew that a sound had carried up that twisted shaft.
Swiftly, The Shadow headed for the back stairs. He descended to the front kitchen. The door to the rear was open. Rowland was not in the back room, although a light still burned there.
The Shadow cut through to the hallway. He stopped as he stepped from the pantry. His flashlight glimmered on the floor.
Lying at the top of the three steps that led to the side door was Rowland, the old servant. The man was motionless, slumped in a twisted position.
The Shadow knew immediately that some intruders had entered the side door. Perhaps Rowland had heard their entry; possibly the servant had merely chanced to be passing by.
In either event, the result had been the same. The old retainer had been dropped by a blow from a blackjack. How serious had the stroke been? That was a question which The Shadow could not answer for the present.
There was no way of aiding Rowland; but there still was time to rescue Zane Dolger if the young man had been confronted by danger. The Shadow swept toward the library.
The door from the passage was ajar. Peering through the opening, The Shadow witnessed the scene within.
Zane Dolger was standing, whitefaced, with hands uplifted. Three men were covering him. The Shadow recognized their leader as Steve Lagrin, one of the gorillas whom Cliff Marsland had listed as an underling of Hoot Shelling.
“SO you’re alone, huh?” Steve was questioning. “Well — that don’t change things much. You’ll do for a starter. Come along, bozo! You’re going for a nice ride.”
“What have you done to Rowland?” demanded Zane.
“The old mug that works here?” Steve laughed hoarsely. “Tapped him behind the ear — same way we’ll do to you if you don’t come quiet.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll find out.” Steve jockeyed with his revolver. “Start moving toward the side door. We’ll follow you.”
The Shadow could see a grimness on Zane’s tense face. The young man knew the purpose of these mobsters. They intended to remove both himself and Rowland; after that, they could easily return and set a trap for Perry.
With the occupants of the house eliminated, Zane knew, any one would be free to search it thoroughly.
Death stared Zane in the eyes; but his thoughts were of Perry’s safety. How could he save his cousin from doom?
The invitation to walk out through the side door was one which Zane knew might bring prompt disaster.
These ruffians had slugged Rowland. As soon as he headed from the library, Zane could expect a similar treatment.
He was picturing himself and the servant — unconscious or dead— being carried from the house. After that, the river. He thought of Perry, returning alone, into an ambush. That was what Zane felt he must prevent. He saw a way to do it.
These men had revolvers; but it was plain that they carried them as threats. They wanted to kill Zane silently. The young man saw the game. Death was certain; Zane’s fighting instinct demanded that he go out in the midst of a fray. Shots might bring people here, even though the house stood isolated. A battle — even though hopeless — could prove a means of saving Perry.
No one — not even his cousin Perry — knew of the courage that lay beneath Zane Dolger’s cautious demeanor. Apparently retiring by nature, Zane had real fortitude when emergencies appeared.
Steve Lagrin, scowling, saw a quaver come to Zane’s uplifted hands. He thought the fellow yellow. So did the other gorillas.
But The Shadow, keen-eyed, knew what that tremor meant. Zane was steeling himself for conflict.
Automatics were steady in The Shadow’s hands. One covered each of the lesser crooks. The Shadow was leaving Steve to Zane; but he had another weapon which was to aid the young man in the struggle.
As Steve was growling again, ordering Zane to move, The Shadow saw the crisis. Zane was ready for a futile spring; his muscles were tightening.
It was then that The Shadow used the weapon other than his automatics. He delivered a sinister, whispered laugh.
INSTINCTIVELY, the three criminals whirled toward the door. At that instant, Zane launched himself on Steve Lagrin. As the chief crook went down, the others, snarling, aimed to kill The Shadow. Their purpose was useless.
The automatics had them covered. The big weapons thundered before either gangster could pull a trigger.
The Shadow gave the two crooks the fate that they would gladly have delivered to him. Snarls turned to chokes. The gorillas sprawled.
Zane had hurled Steve to the floor. The husky gorilla had swung to aim at The Shadow; Zane had grabbed Steve’s wrist. Zane was atop his foe; Steve’s hand was pointing upward, the gun muzzle toward the ceiling.
But Zane had overshot his spring. He had expected resistance from Steve; the gorilla’s twist had proven Zane’s undoing. Down came the raised hand; the revolver barrel glanced from Zane’s head. The young man rolled, half-stunned, upon the floor.
Steve, coming automatically to knees and left hand, fired one quick shot toward The Shadow.
All had happened with swiftness. Luck had given Steve a break. Had the gorilla paused an instant to make sure of his aim, he might have clipped The Shadow. As it was, his first bullet whistled a scant inch above the slouch hat as The Shadow’s head came forward. Steve dropped his hand to fire again.
One shot — a quarter second — then another. Such was Steve’s method of combat.
But The Shadow dealt in finer time spaces. Between the first pull of the trigger and the second, he gave his answer at the finish of an already moving aim. An automatic barked.
Steve’s right hand quivered, as his left wrist sagged. His trigger finger wavered; at last it pulled. But that was reflex effort, like the writhing of a slain snake. The gun muzzle had dropped. Steve’s last bullet found the floor. The gorilla rolled upon the carpet.
The Shadow advanced and looked closely at Zane Dolger. The young man was moving; Steve’s blow had but half-stunned him. The criminals, however, were motionless. The Shadow had dealt them death.
Half-measures; crippling shots — such would not have sufficed while Zane’s life lay at stake. Mirthlessly, The Shadow laughed, his whisper a knell for villains who had deserved their fate.
The black-clad avenger turned. The lining of his cloak showed crimson as the garment swished. The Shadow reached the hallway, returning to the spot where Rowland, the old servant, was lying on the floor.
CHAPTER XVI. ZANE’S STORY
DETECTIVE JOE CARDONA was standing in the library of the Dolger home. With uniformed policemen beside him, the detective was quizzing two men who sat before him.
One was Zane Dolger, steady now that the ordeal had ended. The other was Rowland, whitefaced and quivering.
The dead bodies had been removed.
Cardona, summoned from detective headquarters, was again acting as inspector as he gained the details of the fray.