Could it be Arline Griscom, kidnapped daughter of the theater owner? It must be!
Twenty minutes of nine. Could he afford to wait precious minutes, to send a message to The Shadow? Perhaps there would be no response that would mean a wait of another half hour.
No! Time meant too much, right now. One thought predominated Cliff’s mind. He was sure that the girl he loved was threatened with danger from Killer Durgan. The alarm in Madge’s voice left no room for doubt.
He must go to the rescue at once!
CHAPTER XX
DEATH AND THE SHADOW
CLIFF MARSLAND slipped over the window sill. He had made it from the fire escape. The window sash had been loose. Perhaps Madge had seen to that when Durgan had let her look from the window that afternoon.
Cliff was going on the assumption that he was in the right house. He had found the electric sign; he had seen the revolving ball atop an apartment house. Then he had discovered an old darkened building, evidently a vacant apartment, with a battered fire escape descending. He had made his way to the fourth floor.
He felt the window shade as he stood in a darkened hall. Yes, it was torn! This must be the house!
Cliff was keyed to action. Now, however, he regretted that in his zeal he had failed to call The Shadow. He must work alone tonight — that was all — work to rescue those who were in Killer Durgan’s toils!
There were two doors in the hall. They were set side by side in the wall. Each door had a heavy bolt. These could well be cell-like rooms, such as Madge had mentioned.
Cliff paused at the nearest door. He drew back the bolt, which was scarcely visible in the darkness. Clutching his automatic, he opened the door cautiously. He was looking into a lighted room, furnished with a cot and a few chairs.
On the cot sat a girl, her head resting upon her hand. She was alone. Cliff entered and closed the door noiselessly. He approached. The girl looked up and suppressed a startled cry.
“Arline!” whispered Cliff.
A sudden recognition dawned upon the girl. Before she could respond, Cliff had gripped her shoulders and had raised her to her feet. He kissed her, with all the ardor of forgotten years; then, suddenly, he stepped away and bowed his head.
“Forgive me, Arline,” he said. “Forgive me. I forgot—”
“Forgot what, Cliff?” The girl was clinging to him, now. She was looking up with tear-dimmed, pleading eyes.
“Forgot that I’m a jailbird,” said Cliff bitterly. “Just out of Sing Sing — a few weeks ago—”
“I didn’t know that, Cliff,” said Arline. “I’ve been waiting for you, Cliff, hoping that you’d come back to me.”
“But, Arline—”
“I know everything, Cliff. Brother told me before he died. It was for him that you went to prison — for me, Cliff! He had gone wrong, Cliff — after father sent him away in a fit of anger.
“When he came to your room, fleeing from the police, you took the blame for the robbery he had committed. You fought them with the gun you had taken from him, while he escaped.
“He told me months later, after he came home. He died, you know, after a terrible illness. Father was broken, Cliff. It would have killed him — that’s why I couldn’t speak.
“Brother had killed a man, too, before the robbery. That was never laid to you. If it had been, I would have spoken. Oh, Cliff” — the girl’s voice choked — “can’t you see that I’ve been waiting — that I love you — love you with a greater, fuller love—”
THOUGHTS of danger were forgotten. Cliff was kissing Arline’s tear-stained cheeks. All the grief of years had passed in a moment. Arline knew — she understood — and Cliff had not told her. He had remained true to his vow, that he would protect the name of the brother of the girl he loved!
Reality returned. Cliff suddenly realized that they must leave this place quickly; that he must be prepared for Killer Durgan. He gave Arline one last, long embrace.
There was a door at the side of the room. Neither Cliff nor Arline saw it when it opened. There, in the doorway, stood Madge Benton.
A look of astonishment came over the blonde’s face; then, as she realized the truth, her features hardened in bitter hatred.
Madge was a girl of the underworld. She followed a code in which love vied with hate. One instant could change her feelings to the uttermost extreme. She closed the door softly.
Cliff placed Arline in a chair. He clutched his automatic and looked about him. He remembered Madge. He owed this meeting to that girl.
Cliff felt a fond friendliness for Madge. He had never loved her; but he pitied her plight. She was far too good a moll for a wretch like Killer Durgan. Cliff whispered to Arline.
“There’s a girl here,” he said. “Where is she?”
“In the next room,” replied Arline. “It adjoins this one. That’s where — where the brute who brought me here stays. He went out — with another man. They will be back soon.
“The girl — her name is Madge — was locked in here with me. She found the door to the next room open; but it was bolted from the outside like this one. She’s there now. We must get her—”
Arline’s head dropped forward. She was about to fall from the chair. Dropping his automatic on the cot, Cliff grasped her before she slipped to the floor. As he steadied her, Arline recovered her senses and smiled.
“I’m all right, Cliff,” she said. “I’m all right, Cliff—”
Her happy look turned to one of sudden terror. She was staring over Cliff’s shoulder. The man turned quickly.
There, in the center of the room, stood Ernie Shires, revolver in hand. The gangster had entered through the door from the hall. He had closed it behind him.
It was too late for Cliff to elude him. But desperation ruled Cliff’s mind. He reached for his automatic, dropping to the floor to avoid Ernie’s fire.
Shires did the unexpected. With one quick step forward, he swung a short blow. The steel of his revolver struck Cliff behind the ear, as Cliff’s hand was reaching to the cot. Cliff sprawled unconscious.
Arline leaped toward him, with a little cry of anguish. Shires caught the girl with one arm and laughed. Holding Arline helpless, he pocketed his own revolver and did the same with Cliff’s. He flung the girl upon the cot, where she lay sobbing.
He leaned over Cliff’s body. He half lifted the prostrate form, and pushed it into the corner, behind the chair. He felt through Cliff’s pockets and found no weapons.
“You’re out for a while,” sneered Ernie. “Maybe for a long while. We’ll let you lay till Durgan gets here. See what he has to say.”
He turned to the cot. Arline was crouching against the wall. Ernie laughed as he approached.
“So that’s the guy you fell for, eh?” he said. “I heard you call his name. Cliff Marsland, eh? Well, I’ve got things to settle with him — and the best way to begin is with his moll! Come here!”
HE seized Arline and pulled her toward him. The girl struggled desperately. Ernie Shires handled her with brutal roughness. He tried to kiss her, despite her protests. She dealt him a hard slap across the mouth, and Shires laughed cruelly.
He was clutching the girl with his arms, trying to crush her. Arline managed to break away. She staggered to the wall and stood there, gasping, her eyes wide with terror. Her hand clutched her arm, where the sleeve had been torn away, and the scratches of Ernie’s fingernails had left red streaks.
Ernie was leering as he approached, ready to pounce upon the girl the moment that she tried to escape.
“So you’re the rat!” An interrupting voice came from the door to the next room.
Killer Durgan, eyes red with anger, puffed lips snarling, was covering Ernie with his automatic. The gangster looked at Durgan in utter bewilderment — too surprised to speak.