Helmedge’s ex-servant had suspected danger from the knocks. He was holding a heavy brass candlestick in his shaky, upraised arm. He recognized The Shadow as the recent guest who had come to the house; but could not decide whether he was friend or foe. The Shadow’s peculiar disappearance had puzzled Rennig.
“Quickly!” The Shadow’s whisper was commanding. “Cut these ropes! There are men here who intend to murder your master when he returns!”
The Shadow did not specify that Helmedge was already dead. That would have forced too much explanation. It was best to let Rennig think that Malfort was Helmedge, particularly since the disguised plotter had received The Shadow as a friend in Rennig’s presence.
Rennig planked the candlestick on a chair. He took the dirk and began to cut The Shadow’s bonds. He managed the first ropes; the only one that remained was a tight cord, knotted between The Shadow’s wrists. As The Shadow spread his hands, Rennig pressed the knife downward against the knot. His strength was insufficient to make the cut.
“Quickly!” The Shadow’s whisper was a sharp one. “Press hard with the knife edge!”
As Rennig complied, The Shadow gazed toward the stairs leading from the second floor. He had sensed a possible approach; and his hunch was justified. From around the edge of the stairs came a glaring enemy. It was Wardlock, his moonish face flushed with excitement. The secretary held an upraised revolver.
Velvet-footed, Wardlock had stolen down from the second floor, to hear the whispers at the kitchen door. Turning, he had The Shadow covered from a range of less than fifteen feet. Wardlock’s teeth showed in a roundish grin. Deliberately, the secretary aimed.
Instantly, The Shadow leaped forward, pulling his arms with full force. Rennig had used both hands to press the knife edge against the knot. The Shadow’s jolt supplied the remaining force. As he tugged himself away from Rennig, The Shadow felt the last rope snap.
Though unarmed, The Shadow was free, launched in a furious leap toward the last enemy who blocked his path. Despite the fact that he was hurtling straight for the muzzle of Wardlock’s leveled gun, The Shadow had a chance for victory.
Heavy though the odds stood against him, The Shadow was taking the only course that offered final freedom.
CHAPTER XIX – THE SHADOW ARRIVES
TO Wardlock, The Shadow’s spring was a disconcerting move. Malfort’s secretary was dangerous, chiefly because he was deliberate. In aiming for The Shadow, Wardlock had trained his revolver for a sure, well-chosen shot. He had expected The Shadow to shift; to duck for cover perhaps. But Wardlock had not expected that bold, forward drive. It brought but one quick thought to the secretary’s brain. Wardlock, in that instant, knew that he actually faced The Shadow.
That realization made him drop back instinctively, hoping to gain cover if his gun shot failed. The hesitation ended Wardlock’s chance. In the time that he took to fall back three feet, The Shadow covered five times that distance.
Aiming for The Shadow’s face, Wardlock fired. As he did, his target sped forward, downward. The revolver barked a sizzling bullet past The Shadow’s ear. As Wardlock lowered the weapon, a trip-hammer arm shot upward. Fingers clutched the secretary’s gun hand.
Wardlock gasped hoarsely as he wrenched away. His twist turned him about and made him lose his aim. Before he could jab the revolver against The Shadow’s body, Wardlock was hurled against the wall. With clutching hands, The Shadow held the man’s gun arm and his neck.
Rennig, gaping from the kitchen door, saw a swiftly finished struggle. Wardlock’s revolver thumped the floor. The secretary’s body hoisted upward; then went plunging headlong.
Disregarding his fallen foe, The Shadow snatched up the revolver. He motioned for Rennig to bring the candlestick. Leading the way, The Shadow headed for the cellar.
At the bottom of the stairs, he heard pounds from above. Wardlock had taken only a minor jolt. For once, the secretary had forgotten stealth; he was coming to the cellar stairs to shout an alarm to those below. The Shadow took a quick look into the room that had been his prison.
There he saw Spark Ganza stooping beside the couch. The thug had seen his lost revolver and was groping for it. Near Spark was Ku-Nuan, rising weakly, his ugly, oversize head gripped between his hands.
Turning to Rennig, The Shadow pressed Wardlock’s revolver into the servant’s quivering hand. Quickly, he told Rennig to threaten Wardlock, should the secretary appear at the top of the stairs.
With that, The Shadow sprang into the prison room, straight for Spark Ganza.
THE thuggish lieutenant whipped up from beside the couch, bringing his regained revolver. The Shadow was upon him before he could aim. Plucking the gun from Spark, The Shadow jabbed the muzzle toward the thug’s body.
At that instant, a new attacker entered. Ku-Nuan came lurching squarely on The Shadow. Clawing, biting, the Mongol tried to seize the revolver. So did Spark. He jabbed a hard fist against The Shadow’s jaw; used his other hand in an effort to help Ku-Nuan get the gun. Reeling backward, The Shadow fired. Pressure suddenly relaxed as Spark sagged with a groan.
Catching Ku-Nuan by the side of the neck, The Shadow sent the spidery killer skidding along the floor. Ku-Nuan rolled over and lay still. The Shadow came up to hands and knees, to hear a shout from Rennig. The servant was aiming up the stairs.
From above came a clatter. Wardlock was driving down to battle the quaky old servant.
The Shadow sprang to Rennig’s aid. He was in time, but his approach was unnecessary. Rennig was gripping his revolver with both hands. He fired as The Shadow arrived. Wardlock mouthed a cry as The Shadow reached the bottom of the stairs. Rennig had gained a hit.
Poised, Wardlock slumped forward. His hand released a pair of heavy fire tongs that he had found on the ground floor. As the tongs clattered to the bottom of the steps, Wardlock tumbled headlong – to sprawl, inert, at Rennig’s feet. Like Spark Ganza, Wardlock was dead.
The Shadow knew that he could depend upon Rennig. He hissed instructions to the servant:
“Second floor! Telephone the police! Tell them your master is dead! Have them protect his wealth! After they arrive, send them to the Maribar Hotel!”
Rennig nodded his full understanding. Once aroused, the old servant was quivery no longer. He had shown his mettle.
Leaving him in charge, The Shadow went back to find Ku-Nuan. The Mongol was no longer on the floor. The Shadow heard him snarl from the farther door.
Ku-Nuan had played possum after his second overthrow. Knifeless, his only chance was flight. He was taking it as The Shadow saw him. The door slammed before The Shadow could aim. Quick in pursuit, The Shadow followed.
Ku-Nuan had cut out through the cellar. The Shadow reached a back passage behind the old house; he aimed at a fleeing figure as it hopped to the street. Again, Ku-Nuan was quick enough to get away; but there was no question regarding his flight. It was genuine. Ku-Nuan would not return here to face The Shadow alone.
That knowledge served The Shadow.
He knew that he could leave the field to Rennig. The servant would lose no time in calling the police. The Shadow was certain that there were no other enemies upon the premises. Had they been present, they would have entered the last fray. Moreover, no crooks lurked hereabouts. Malfort was too wise to let more than a chosen few know the location of his headquarters.