“Stole my moll, eh?” growled Durgan. “Bumped off Mike Wharton, before he could spill your name. I thought you were phony — the first night you came up to my place. Looking at my moll like you wanted her for yours.
“She just spilled the dope. Told me I’d find you here — the guy that she was goofy over — grabbing off another moll just because she looked like a high-class dame.
“You rat! Well, she’s in there — Madge is — waiting to hear you go out!”
“Durgan!” protested Shires. “Listen, Durgan — you don’t know—”
Before he could say another word, Killer Durgan fired. Three shots entered Ernie’s body.
Arline, startled and bewildered, had her first glimpse of sudden death when she saw the gangster crumple on the floor. Durgan stood above the body, gloating.
He had not seen the form of Cliff Marsland, lying behind the chair in the obscure corner of the room.
Ernie Shires had once framed Cliff Marsland to be killed instead of himself, as the slayer of Tim Waldron. Now, in turn, Ernie Shires had been framed by circumstance. He had died in place of the man whom Killer Durgan wanted!
“You’ve killed him!” Madge came into the room, her eyes wild with remorse. “Oh, Durgan — you’ve killed him! Killed my man! Killed—”
Her eyes saw the upturned face of Ernie Shires. They lighted suddenly.
Madge could not explain what had happened — she only knew that the wrong man was dead — and she was glad! Her furious hate had turned to love once more the moment that she had heard the fatal shots. Killer Durgan was watching her with hawklike eyes.
“I got him!” he said. “Got the rat! Your man, eh? Well, he’s nobody’s man, now! He’s just Ernie Shires — a dead rat—”
SOMETHING in Madge’s expression puzzled Durgan. The wildness was gone. She seemed relieved. Durgan could not understand it.
The girl was neither weeping nor laughing. Her face was tense. She was trying to regain her calmness.
It was in this moment of puzzlement that Killer Durgan chanced to see the form of Cliff Marsland. He thrust Madge to one side as he strode across the room. He pulled the chair away. He looked close at the face of the unconscious man. Then Durgan turned to see Madge trembling.
“I got it now!” he said harshly. “I killed the wrong guy, eh? This is the bird that made the trouble! Who is he?”
“I won’t tell you,” replied Madge fiercely. “He’s nobody, Durgan — leave him alone!”
“Tell me who he is!” Durgan’s tone was cunning. “Then I’ll let him go!”
“You promise?”
Durgan nodded.
“He’s Cliff Marsland,” said Madge.
“Cliff Marsland!” Durgan’s face expressed intense hatred. “I said I’d let him go, eh? Well, I will let him go — on your account. But I’ve got something of my own to settle with him. Don’t forget that!”
As Durgan stared, Cliff opened his eyes weakly. He tried to move, but the effort failed.
“Coming to, eh?” added Durgan. “Well, tough guy, you’re just in time to see what’s coming to you!”
Gloating, Killer lowered his automatic. His finger was on the trigger. Before he could press it, there was a scream. Madge leaped forward, throwing her body before the muzzle of the automatic, seeking to stop the shots.
It was too late! Killer Durgan’s finger moved before Madge could strike the automatic from his hand. A shot rang out; the bullet found a mark, but it never reached Cliff Marsland!
Killer Durgan stood aghast as Madge fell to the floor, mortally wounded! She had sought to save the man she loved. She had succeeded — at the cost of her own life!
Durgan stood as though petrified. He saw the blond girl give her last gasp of life. His moll was dead!
There was no love in Killer Durgan’s nature. It was desire for possession that had ruled his actions toward Madge. He was stunned by what had happened; but only momentarily. Evil venom followed.
Cliff Marsland must die!
Arline Griscom realized Killer Durgan’s intention. She had been horrified at the sight of death; now, her love for Cliff spurred her to desperation.
She flung herself upon the brutal murderer and battled tooth and nail, while Cliff tried vainly to rise.
With a mighty effort, Durgan flung the struggling girl against the wall. Before she could regain her feet, she saw his arm turn toward the corner where Cliff lay.
Two shots roared. Arline screamed. Then she stared, bewildered.
Killer Durgan was collapsing! His body sagged, like a figure in a slow-motion picture. He toppled forward, his gun falling to the floor. He lay face downward, an inert mass.
THEN Arline realized whence the shots had come. The outer door of the room had opened. There stood a man in black, a strange weird figure, garbed in a flowing cloak.
The folds of the garments revealed a crimson lining — the only spot of color in the man’s attire. For on his head, he wore a black, broad-brimmed hat that covered his features. He held an automatic in his black-gloved hand.
It was he who had fired. His bullets had ended the murderous career of Killer Durgan, cheating the notorious slayer of a final victim!
Cliff was rising now. Arline could see his tense gaze directed toward the man in black. Cliff’s lips were moving.
“The Shadow!” he was saying. “The Shadow!”
A low, soft laugh came from the man in black. It was the strangest laugh that Arline had ever heard. It chilled her; it frightened her; for it carried a tone of menace.
Yet, instinctively, she knew that the laugh was one of triumph — that the man in black had come as a friend. She knew that she and Cliff had been saved — Cliff from Killer Durgan’s gun; she from any fate the brutal murderer might have intended for her.
The man in black stood silently, while Cliff staggered to his feet. He watched the young man walk unsteadily across the room, stepping carefully to avoid the bodies that lay in his path.
He saw Arline rise to meet Cliff. Again The Shadow laughed. Suddenly, he turned and disappeared through the doorway.
Cliff had fully regained his senses. The back of his head was aching; but he had one desire that made him forget the pain. He must take Arline from this room of horror!
He steadied the girl with his arm. Together, they made their way to the hall. Before them lay an open door that led to a stairway. They followed the path ahead. They reached a side alley and walked through to the street beyond. Cliff hailed a cab.
Arline leaned against him as they rode toward her home. The girl was weak, but happy. She had found the man she loved! He had come to rescue her, against great odds!
Cliff, too, was happy, for he knew that the past was understood. He was free — not only from prison walls, but from the memory of the crime that had not been his own.
Still, neither was forgetful. As the cab whirled along Broadway, a single thought was uppermost in the minds of both Cliff and Arline.
Neither could forget that mysterious man in black who had arrived from nowhere to rescue them both from death. They had been saved by The Shadow!
CHAPTER XXI
THE FINAL RECKONING
IT was nearly midnight. Two elderly men were seated in a little windowless, luxuriously furnished room. The men were at opposite sides of a highly polished table. The walls of the room were tapestried, at each side, curtains denoted hidden niches that served as closets.
There was one door leading into the room — a massive door, with strips of iron and a huge knob of the same metal.
This was Stanley Wilberton’s study. He was talking to Howard Griscom. There was a contrast between the two men. Both elderly, Wilberton was keen and alert, while Griscom seemed on the point of collapse.