As Harry’s senses faded, the last impression that came to his bewildered mind was that of a throbbing laugh that died to nothingness. The laugh of The Shadow. Harry had heard it peal in times of triumph; but never on such an event as this.
Old Absalom heard the mockery also. But the hermit, still half groggy, did not see the figure that had swung back to the door. With bearded chin upon his chest, Absalom was holding Harry Vincent pinned down while he tried to regain his own strength in case The Shadow’s agent offered new attack.
But Harry was out. As seconds passed, the hermit learned that fact. Old Absalom’s eyes lost their glassiness. His gaze focused upon the white face beneath his hands. For the first time, he was getting a good look at his downed antagonist.
A sudden laugh came from the man’s bearded lips. Old Absalom released his hold, seeing that Harry lay half-stunned. Drawing himself up, the hermit rose to his feet, wabbled for a moment, then steadied. He picked up Harry’s automatic from the floor.
A chuckle. A shake of the head. Old Absalom was again surveying his conquered foe. The battle over, this potential killer seemed to relish it as a huge joke. He looked toward Rex, bound and helpless in the corner; then toward Harry, who lay moving feebly.
Again, Old Absalom laughed as he stood in the focus of the electric lantern. Turning about, the hermit stared in the direction or the door. But he saw no one there. Black was fading into blackness.
The Shadow had witnessed Old Absalom’s recovery. He knew that the hermit stood triumphant. He had watched the expressions that had come over the bearded face. Then The Shadow had departed.
Moving silently through the darkness, The Shadow gave no further token of his presence. He was turning toward the slope, going to the vicinity that he had left — the spot that Rex and Harry had unearthed as the entrance to the forgotten mine shaft.
The Shadow’s action indicated that he was through with those who remained in the shack; that new duty summoned him to the hillside, away from the scene of strife. He seemed to see no further reason why he should remain upon the scene where men had battled.
IN the shack, Old Absalom stood by the lantern, his eyes keen, his lips forming a smile that showed plainly through his matted beard. Though he did not realize how the tide had turned, the hermit did know that he had won. He was chuckling over his double victory.
Harry Vincent heard him dimly. Eyes half opened, The Shadow’s agent was regaining his lost senses.
Again the details of the fight throbbed through his brain. Harry realized how he had been stopped from victory. He knew the identity of the fighter who had hindered him in his struggle against Old Absalom.
Harry closed his eyes with a groan. Dizziness, as well as misery, had gripped him. He did not care what his own fate might be. He could not understand all that had happened. What matter if he lay in the hands of a man who had been bribed to kill?
All through the conflict, Harry had battled with but one thought in mind. That was to save Rex Brodford, the man with whom he had become friends. Now that chance was ended, by the most incongruous turn of events that Harry had ever experienced.
Harry had fought to save a friend. He had failed in the task. Rescue had been thwarted by The Shadow!
CHAPTER XIV. THE ALLIANCE
“HARRY!”
Rex Brodford’s voice. Harry Vincent stirred. Dizzily, he rubbed his forehead and opened his eyes. He was resting upon a cot, propped up by Rex’s arm. His friend was trying to give him a drink of water from a cup.
Harry stared. He was in the little shack, blinking at the glare of the electric lantern. Rex was not the only other occupant. Leaning over the foot of the cot was Old Absalom, the bearded hermit.
Harry tried to rise at sight of this foe. Rex stopped him. Old Absalom chuckled. Rex joined with a laugh.
“This chap’s all right, Harry,” he informed. “What’s more, he’s an old friend of yours. He’s—”
“A friend of mine?” queried Harry, staring at the hermit. “I never saw him before—”
“No?” queried Old Absalom. “Think again, Vincent. Try to picture me without the whiskers.”
Harry recognized the man’s firm tone. For the first time, he realized who the hermit really was.
“Vic Marquette!” exclaimed Harry. “Of the Secret Service. Say, Vic” — Harry leaned forward to thrust out his hand — “why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“How could I?” demanded Vic. “You landed on me like a tiger! I didn’t even get a look at your face! I was trying to explain, though, but you choked the words out of me.”
“So you had to slug me, finally.”
“Sure! You were covering me with an automatic. I was nearly out on my feet. It’s lucky you were half groggy, too, or you would have drilled me.”
Harry smiled. He realized that Vic had not seen The Shadow’s interference. He realized also that The Shadow had recognized the Secret Service operative. The Shadow, taking the swiftest way to save Vic from Harry’s gun, had pitched into his own agent.
The Shadow’s actions were explained. Harry realized that his chief had left him in good hands. That settled, the present matter was to learn what Vic Marquette was doing in the guise of a bearded recluse.
Harry and Vic had met several times before. Frequently they had cooperated, Harry working for The Shadow while Vic represented the law. The present situation, however, was more bizarre than any in which Harry had previously encountered Vic Marquette.
“How do you figure in this, Vic?” inquired Harry. “We thought you were the old hermit who has been around here for years.”
“Every one else thinks the same,” chuckled Vic. “I’ve bluffed them perfectly. There really is an old duck whom they call Old Absalom; and he did live on that island in the lake. But I was the first person to make a deal with him.”
“How long ago?”
“A few months back. My chief sent me up here to investigate this Chalice mine outfit. There’s something phony about that layout. I don’t mean just the stock selling. I refer to the payments of corporation taxes. They’ve been misrepresented.”
“And your job was to find out how.”
“That’s it. And by whom. So I came to Lake Chalice and sleuthed around. I spotted Old Absalom out in the lake and I went to see him. He wasn’t so tough as he was supposed to be.
“I made a deal with him. I lived there on the island and grew my own crop of whiskers. When I looked like the hermit’s twin, I talked him into shaving off his beard. You’d never have known who he was.
“I paid him to take a trip to Wisconsin to see some relatives he hadn’t met for years. He was glad to quit the hermit racket, after someone had talked him into going back to civilization.” Vic paused. This time it was Harry who laughed. The story was a rare one.
“I bummed around the lumber camp occasionally,” resumed Vic. “Then I concentrated on the Chalice mine. But I wasn’t getting anywhere with the hermit business. All I had was a swell disguise. No results.
“Last night, however, I had unexpected visitors. Two men who looked like scoundrels. They brought me a hundred bucks in silver and wanted to make a deal. So I listened. They said they’d heard that I was a tough hombre and they wanted me to act in my accustomed style.
“They told me two men were camping up on this property. They said those two persons would come to see me shortly. They wanted me to commit double murder. The cash was advance payment.
“I took the dough and played dumb. Tonight, though, I figured I’d come up here and find these chaps that I was supposed to massacre. I knew the ones who had visited me were crooks. I wanted to beat their game; to give a warning here.”