ZURICK handed the document to Zane. The young man began to read it. His face changed. He turned to Cardona and motioned the detective to lower his gun. Joe complied. He sensed that the paper had altered the situation.
“This is addressed to Elwood Phraytag,” explained Zane. “It is signed by my grandfather. It gives full possession of these funds to Phraytag and three others. Their names” — Zane read them: “Lucius Zurick; Guy Laverock; Harbrook Kent.”
“These three men?” questioned Joe, turning to Mallan.
“Yeah,” replied the lanky dick. “But I didn’t know Mr. Zurick had a paper like that.”
“Certain business concerned ourselves,” crackled Zurick, with a smile. “I and my associates had our affairs to handle. Just as you had yours, Mallan.”
“Here’s the paper,” said Zane, passing it to Cardona. “It was signed by my grandfather — properly attested — during his lifetime. He had the right to dispose of his possessions.”
“He wanted us,” explained Zurick, “to hold his funds for philanthropic purposes. To begin with gifts — anonymous ones — one year after his death. He ordered the signet rings; one for each of us.
“Tobias Dolger had led a grasping life. He made amends for it before he died. The rings, after the engraving had been completed, were delivered directly to Phraytag. Lyken’s bill came in while Tobias Dolger was ill. He requested Phraytag to take care of it.
“Phraytag paid Lyken for silence. But we mistrusted the jeweler. We had Mallan watch him. Then Perry Dolger entered. We knew that some one — possibly Perry — was responsible for the deaths of Lyken and Phraytag. But the preservation of our funds was essential. Believing them safe, we waited.
“When they were removed, we suspected that they were here. We hired Mallan again — even though we had not approved his negligence in letting Lyken and Phraytag be slain while he was close at hand. We felt that we were dealing with murderers, so we gave Mallan carte blanche. To act as he might choose.
“He bought out Perry’s evil crew. We did not know it at the time. But Mallan was sure that we would have the upper hand here tonight. So we accompanied him. Perry proved his perfidy. You, Zane, have shown yourself honest.
“None of us ever visited your grandfather, with the exception of Elwood Phraytag. He conducted all negotiations regarding the funds. James Jackling knew that he visited here. Perhaps Rowland could make a statement to that effect—”
ZURICK paused. He was looking for the old servant. But Rowland had moved away. There was only one course that he could have taken. He must have entered the little room in the corner of the library, while the others were talking.
Puzzled, Zurick stepped toward the closed door in the corner. He stopped short. Like the others, he whirled at the sound of a vicious, snarling voice.
New intruders had entered the house. Men who had been here before. Hoot Shelling was at one door, backed by gorillas; Greasy Karn at the other, with a crew. Leveled revolvers covered all within the library— excepting one man who had stepped into the room. It was he who had snarled.
This man was Perry Dolger.
The chief of the crooks had returned; his minions were once more at his heels. Revolver in hand, Perry had come back with the horde that had captured him. He had won back the men whom Ed Mallan had bought over.
Into a scene of fairness and justice had stepped the evil genius whose ways had been thwarted. Perry Dolger’s eyes were upon the open coffer which contained the treasure of the philanthropists.
A final reckoning had been in the making. Wealth had been properly claimed. That was ended. Once again, a fiendish adventurer was prepared to pluck ill-gotten funds from the hands of the philanthropists.
CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW’S PART
“FOOLS!” snarled Perry Dolger. “This will be your finish! You three old clucks” — he leered at the philanthropists — “and this dud — my cousin — who was going to pass up his chance for millions!”
“You fellows” — he sneered at Cardona and Markham, who were standing with lowered revolvers — “are out of luck. You’ll get the works along with the rest. But the prize dummy of the lot is this guy Ed Mallan!”
Perry was relishing his triumph over the private detective. Mallan was standing with mouth half open. His gawky figure was ridiculous, with its upraised arms.
“Crooks sell out to the highest bidder,” chuckled Perry. “You found that out, Mallan, when you paid Hoot ten grand to raise the five grand that I gave him. But you were too dumb to figure that I could raise the ante.
“I did it, when they were carrying me to the boat. They gave me a chance to talk. I told them what was behind the game. Not murder — no mausoleums — not signet rings — but real swag and plenty of it.
“They were wise enough to know that there was something worth while getting from this house. But they didn’t guess the size of the swag until I told them. Millions! Fifty-fifty between me and the crowd. That makes ten thousand look like chicken feed.”
Perry strode across the room, straight to the little door in the corner. The door was ajar; Perry placed his hand upon the barrier, preparing to push it inward. He turned to Hoot and Greasy.
“Rowland ducked in here,” Perry told the crooks. “I’ll cover him; then we’ll hand the works to the whole crowd. Rub them out when I give the word. Then the getaway — with the swag.”
Swinging to the door, Perry pushed it inward. Hoot, Greasy and the gorillas could not see into the little room; but Perry Dolger did. Snarling, the chief of crime dropped back.
Quickly, he tried to fire. He was too late.
An automatic thundered from the little room. Perry sprawled upon the floor.
The author of the shot stepped forth from blackness. It was not Rowland. The old servant could never have masked himself in cloak and hat of blackness; nor could he have delivered the laugh that came with the timely shot.
The Shadow! Eyes blazing, fists extended, looming automatics ready, the master avenger had come to play his part.
HIS spreading hands were on the way to two objectives: those doorways where armed thugs stood awaiting the word to deliver slaughter.
Revolvers flashed as wild lips snarled. Gorillas were swinging away from those whom they had covered.
A dozen revolvers were aiming for The Shadow. But the automatics were already busy.
Mammoth muzzles belched their cannonade. Straight into the two groups of clustered crooks The Shadow delivered burning bullets. Men sprawled as the leaden slugs found human flesh. From perfect ambush, The Shadow was dispatching messages of death.
The flashes of the automatics came in machinelike rapidity. Revolvers barked hopelessly amid the tattoo of The Shadow’s .45s. Wild shots ripped splinters from the doorway close beside The Shadow. But they came on the heels of the automatic fire.
Backing with the recoil of his guns, The Shadow was fading into the little room. His volleys had thinned the ranks of the enemies. But this was the chance for the remaining crew. The Shadow had loosed the entire contents of his guns.
Hoot Shelling had slumped to the floor. Greasy Karn, protected by the body of a dying thug, remained unwounded. With a fierce cry for others to follow, Greasy pounced forward with frenzied gorillas at his heels.
At that instant, Cardona and Markham fired. Neglected when every mobster had sought The Shadow as a target, the headquarters men still had their revolvers. Zane Dolger yanked his gun. So did Ed Mallan.
The mobsters behind Greasy found themselves engaged in a terrific brawl.
But Greasy had gained the door of the little room. His ready revolver was pointed inward. His finger was on the trigger, ready to fire a shot that was never due for delivery.