No one paid any attention to it. All were watching Hennesy and Larrigan. The latter turned suddenly to the large truck.
“All right, boys,” he said.
The muzzles of two machine guns appeared through the slatted sides of the truck. They gleamed in the lights from the dock. Bart Hennesy stood in amazement as he saw that his men were covered by the guns.
“How do you like that?” questioned Hoke Larrigan sarcastically. “And how do you like this?”
Like a flash, he pulled an automatic from his pocket and fired three shots into Bart Hennesy’s body. The king of the dock wallopers fell dead. Not a person moved. Larrigan turned to Spunk Hogan.
“You want the same?” he questioned.
Spunk shook his head. He was too bewildered to answer.
Hoke Larrigan looked about him triumphantly. He knew that there were dozens of dock wallopers who were ready to avenge their fallen leader; but the threat of the machine guns cowed them. No one dared to start the trouble.
Now was Hoke’s opportunity. With Bart Hennesy dead, and Spunk Hogan trembling for his life, Hoke could declare himself the king of the docks. He hesitated only because he was uncertain whether he should spare Spunk Hogan. He grinned as he looked at Hennesy’s cowed lieutenant.
Low voices were talking in the small truck that had virtually escaped attention.
“Hold on until the fracas stops,” warned Cliff Marsland. “We’re here to make it a fair fight.”
“Then here goes!” blurted Nipper. Nothing could restrain the little gangster. He considered Bart Hennesy an ace among racketeers. Before Cliff could restrain him, Nipper had raised his gun.
Thrice flame spurted from the automatic. Three well-aimed bullets found their mark. Hoke Larrigan fell dead, sniped from an unexpected quarter.
Bart Hennesy’s killer had met his doom!
“Aim for the truck,” exclaimed Cliff grimly. Nipper’s action had forced the issue. Now was no time to hesitate.
A split second after Cliff had uttered his command, his men were at work. The gleaming muzzles of the machine guns were their targets.
The revolver shots wreaked havoc. Passing through the slatted sides of the big truck, they crippled the machine-gun operators.
The sullen dock wallopers sprang to action. The men who had come with Bart Hennesy were wild for revenge. Revolvers flashed! Shots rang out! Mighty arms were in action!
REVOLVER shots came from the big truck. Killer Durgan, recognizable as he leaned from the front seat, sought to avenge the death of Hoke Larrigan and he made Spunk Hogan his target. Bullets splattered the big truck as Hogan fell.
Killer Durgan seemed to bear a charmed life; but he realized the danger. He swung back into the seat. The man beside him — Ernie Shires — threw the truck into gear. It shot away toward safety.
“Get going!” cried Cliff, as the tail light of Durgan’s truck faded away. Cliff’s own truck was being showered, now, as Hoke Larrigan’s dock wallopers sought revenge.
Patsy threw the truck into gear. But before he could start it, a surge of men arrived.
Cliff was on the front seat with Patsy. His automatic was wrested from his hand. Patsy, too, was overpowered. Nipper and Dave, in the back, were flattened on the bottom of the truck. Their guns were empty.
Then, from an obscure place, came the sound of two automatics! They were being fired from between two piles of crates near the truck.
An amazing marksman was at work. As a huge fist rose to knock Cliff unconscious, a bullet struck the upraised arm. One by one, the attackers dropped. It seemed as though a charmed circle had been formed.
Patsy, finding himself free, shot the truck forward. A last dock walloper leaped toward him with an automatic. Another second, and the truck would have been driverless.
But a single shot barked as Patsy swerved the truck. The threatening attacker fell in his tracks!
Staring backward, from the turning truck, Cliff saw a tall black form spring from its hiding place between the boxes. With tremendous strides the figure leaped forward and gained the rear of the departing truck.
As Patsy suddenly increased the speed, Cliff was overwhelmed with amazement. There were five men aboard the truck! Cliff, Patsy, Dave, Nipper, and — The Shadow!
The master of darkness had rescued Cliff and his men from certain doom, and now, as they whirled along through the night, Cliff heard a long peal of raucous laughter behind him.
The Shadow was riding with them to safety! Durgan’s work had been ruined!
As the truck stopped on the deserted street, beside their touring car, Dave clambered into the front seat.
“Nipper got his,” was all he said.
Cliff leaped to the back seat. Dave had stated a fact. There lay the body of Nipper Brady, the pale-faced little gangster who had fought like a man of iron. The parting shots of Hoke Larrigan’s cohorts had slain the man who had felled their leader.
“Who was in back with you?” questioned Cliff, as Dave returned.
“Only Nipper,” was the reply. “That’s all I saw. I was half out. No, wait” — a puzzled look appeared upon Dave’s face — “there must have been another guy. There was somebody there, firing away at the gang. It couldn’t have been Nipper. He was out!”
Cliff moved in the darkness of the truck, searching every foot of space. No one was there.
He and Patsy had escaped injury. Dave was wounded. Nipper was dead. But the fifth man had come and gone, like a creature of the night. He had saved the fray, had made his escape, and had departed in mystery.
As Cliff stood solemnly beside Nipper’s body, he fancied that he heard a distant sound — the laugh of The Shadow!
CHAPTER XVII
THE THEATER TRAGEDY
THE Tuesday morning newspapers carried sensational stories of the fight at the Brooklyn dock. The conflict had continued between the rival factions, who sought revenge for their fallen leaders. Police intervention had followed. Arrests had been made.
The results, as reported in the evening journals, would be disastrous for the racketeering that so long had cankered New York’s water front.
With Bart Hennesy and Hoke Larrigan dead; with neither Spunk Hogan nor Big Ben Hargins to gather up the reins that had been dropped, there was no one to fix matters with the authorities.
It was rumored that Hoke Larrigan had been backed by some big shot who had been using him to gain control of the docks; but with the chaos that now reigned, this hidden personage was afraid to reveal his hand.
The executives of steamship lines had long tolerated the presence of the public loaders on their piers, simply because they did not desire trouble with union laborers who might have an unofficial alliance with the dock wallopers.
Now, with the racket broken, announcements were being made that the most important lines would no longer allow the old condition to commence again. Union leaders denied any connection with the dead czars of the docks.
New York’s most notorious racket had been killed in a single night!
Cliff Marsland read the newspaper items with avid interest. He knew who had produced the fatal blow. The Shadow, prepared for the opportunity, had been on hand to bring confusion to the intended reign of Hoke Larrigan!
It was true that Nipper Brady had fired the shots that had caused the great fray; but it was through The Shadow’s planning that the little gangster had been present. Furthermore, Cliff was positive, The Shadow would have started things himself had not Nipper unwittingly anticipated him.
There was a mention of the trucks that took part in the battle; but no one could give the identity of the men who had manned them. They were accepted by the newspapers as part of the plan of battle. It was assumed that they had contained reinforcements of dock wallopers.