CHAPTER XXI. THE COUNTERSTROKE
THE SHADOW laughed. His tones were low and sibilant. Hidden lips whispered a new taunt from above the leveled automatics. Covering, The Shadow watched the prompt work of the men whom he had saved.
Harry Vincent and Vic Marquette had yanked out their revolvers. Thrusting the menacing weapons toward Hoxon and his men, the rescued pair were using their free hands to pick up the rifles that the crew had dropped.
Rex Brodford was too numbed to aid. He had stepped forward mechanically. He was looking toward the hallway, where Laspar and Miguel, closest to The Shadow, were cowering beneath the very muzzles of the cloaked fighter’s .45s.
The Shadow!
Dimly, from somewhere, Rex recalled the name of this mysterious being. A warrior who battled crime. A master of vengeance who stood for right. He remembered, now, that he had heard the name cried by an affrighted mobster, during that fight on the street behind the Club Renaldo.
“Take these.”
Rex obeyed as Harry passed him a pair of rifles. He took other guns that Vic had picked up and carried the lot over to the rack from which Hoxon and the woodsmen had obtained them. There, Rex proceeded to stack the weapons, leaving them loaded until other orders might be given.
The Shadow’s automatics held an enfilade. His vantage post beside the door to the cellar enabled him to hold a flank aim on Hoxon’s men; and all the while, Laspar and Miguel were under the same threat.
The strength of The Shadow’s position enabled Harry and Vic to work with precision. Hoxon and his men were still armed with revolvers. Covering one man, Harry ordered him to step forward. Vic frisked the fellow’s gun. Harry motioned the woodsman to the inner corner at the front of the living room.
As the woodsman walked sulkily to that spot, Rex raised the last rifle and held the fellow covered.
One by one, the other woodsmen submitted to the same procedure. Harry tossed their revolvers on the floor, over by the rifle rack. Hoxon was the last raider to be disarmed. Surlily, the superintendent joined his helpless squad.
Vic Marquette joined Rex Brodford. With leveled revolver, the bearded Secret Service man was also there to see that the prisoners made no break.
Harry turned about; he heard a whispered command from The Shadow. Harry nudged his automatic at Miguel.
The fat Filipino waddled forward.
Harry found a .32 in the man’s coat pocket and appropriated the weapon. Miguel took his place in the corner with the woodsmen.
Harry went up to Cortland Laspar. The lumber magnate had no weapon on his person. He had relied completely upon his murderous henchmen.
The Shadow had turned toward the corner where captured men were standing. Thus the prisoners were under the muzzles of his guns, in addition to the weapons that were held by Rex Brodford and Vic Marquette. Stepping clear of The Shadow’s range, Harry ordered Laspar to back over into the corner with his henchmen.
Laspar refused to budge. Hands raised, he was staring past Harry, glaring at The Shadow. Sight of burning eyes made Laspar waver. As if controlled by that gaze, acting like an automaton that obeyed the action of a lever, Cortland Laspar began to move slowly backward.
Mechanically, he was acting under the compulsion of an irresistible power. Laspar’s lips tried to emit a snarl. The hiss that came from them was weak.
In response, The Shadow delivered a sinister laugh. The Shadow spoke:
“YOUR game was plain, Laspar,” declared the weird avenger. “I, too, came through your tunnel beneath the lake. I entered here one night ago, from the Chalice mine. But I came silently and left unseen. I picked the lock of your sheathed door; then departed out into the night.
“But the proof of your treachery was not the existence of that passage. The actions of James Jubal gave your game away. Jubal was not in the neighborhood of the Chalice mine. He had no opportunity to contact with Trebold.
“Yet Jubal, when he visited Old Absalom’s isle, had knowledge of the fact that Rex Brodford and Harry Vincent were at the shack near the Quest mine shaft. Only one person could have given him that information. He gained his knowledge through you, Cortland Laspar.”
Laspar scowled. His expression was an admission that The Shadow’s deduction was correct. The Shadow’s tones came mocking as the accuser resumed.
“From within the mine shafts,” announced The Shadow, “I located the old Quest opening. It was I who gave the clue to its discovery; through comparison of charts below and above the surface. Three men” — significantly, The Shadow indicated Harry, Rex, and Vic — “entered the old Quest shaft. Jubal did not follow them.”
Pausing in his backward motion, Cortland Laspar stared. This news was truly astounding to the unmasked lumber magnate. It startled Harry Vincent as well.
“It was I who followed,” mocked The Shadow. “Jubal bombed the opening and sealed it. I drove my own followers deeper. They encountered Trebold and his crew. The only outlet was the tunnel beneath the lake. My followers took it; they came here, while I” — the tone was sinister — “while I remained to deal with Trebold and his would-be murderers!”
A gasp from Laspar. The big shot understood at last. He could picture what had happened in the mine.
So could Harry Vincent. For the first time, The Shadow’s agent understood the meaning of that prolonged fusillade.
While three fugitives were taking the path to safety, The Shadow had opened a rear attack upon the killers from the Chalice mine. Two had been crippled to begin with; the others had fallen prey to The Shadow’s ambush.
Then The Shadow had come onward. Delayed, he had arrived about the time that Hoxon and his crew had sprung their game with the rifles. Waiting beyond the door to the cellar, The Shadow had planned his final coup.
OTHER facts were clear to Harry Vincent. He realized that The Shadow had planned a simpler ending.
The Shadow had wanted Harry and Rex — Vic as well — to complete an exploration of the Quest mine.
That done, Rex could reclaim his property. Vic could start a government investigation of the Chalice mine. Swindlers and rogues would have been on the spot, their game suddenly laid open, while the Shadow waited to deal with any who might offer fight.
James Jubal had introduced the unexpected. The Shadow, faced by a desperate situation, had come clear. From chaos, he had evolved new methods to deal with men of crime. The Shadow stood triumphant.
Laspar was backing again; he was almost in the corner with his minions. Harry Vincent, too, was covering that corner. The Shadow was stepping forward. Light showed his form more clearly.
Black cloak and slouch hat. Both were streaked with brown. This was the dust from the earth that had buried The Shadow after his plunge. There was a wavering limp to The Shadow’s approach. It had taken an effort for him to make his spring from the cellar doorway. Tattered portions of the black cloak were mute testimony to the work of jagged rocks. The fall had shaken The Shadow, but his nerve had kept him in the fight.
Harry realized suddenly why his chief had left so much to others after his arrival here. The Shadow’s strength was waning.
Yet a laugh came again from his hidden lips. The Shadow knew that he could depend upon his aids for further effort. A call to the sheriff; the binding of Laspar and his tools — these would be the first step.
Then would come the rounding up of Jubal. The Shadow, like Laspar, knew that outlaws could easily be hunted down in this wild territory. The law could take its course from now on. Details alone remained.
Automatics lowered. The Shadow was easing from the strain. A weary hiss came from the lips that were hidden by the upturned collar of the black cloak. The Shadow was giving the instructions that would bring culmination to the cause of right.