Marsland nodded, still staring at the man in black.
“You came here,” said The Shadow, “because you were summoned. Tim Waldron knew your secret. He used it as a threat over your head. He believed you to be a murderer as well as a convicted robber.
“He did not know what I know — that you bore one crime for the sake of another man; that you would also accept the other if it should be blamed upon you!”
The man in the chair moved restlessly. These revelations were uncanny. He stared at the man in black; then gazed toward the figure sprawled upon the desk. It became his turn to question.
“You did — that?” he asked, pointing toward Waldron.
“No,” replied The Shadow. “It was intended for you! It was the irony of fate, Clifford Marsland, that another crime should be planned so that it might be laid to you.
“Once again, you are a murderer — by proxy!”
Marsland gazed hopelessly at the form of Waldron.
“You came here” — the voice of The Shadow seemed far away to the listener — “reconciled to a life of crime. You were ready to do Waldron’s bidding — to cast in your lot with criminals, for you had been branded as one.
“You are bitter because of the past. You are willing to accept any future, if it brings you gain. So I offer you — a future!”
“Like the one Waldron had for me?”
“No! Not for the cause of crime!”
“For the cause of justice, then?” Marsland laughed bitterly. “For justice? I would prefer crime!”
“For neither crime nor justice!” came the low voice. “Your future lies in the cause of The Shadow! To do my bidding will be your one task. Do you accept?”
A strange light gleamed in Clifford Marsland’s eyes as he turned his gaze upon the man in black. The room and its surroundings seemed unreal.
Beside him, the body of a murdered man; before him, a mysterious figure that possessed amazing knowledge.
It captured his imagination. Clifford Marsland could make but one reply.
“I accept!” he said.
“You promise full obedience?”
“I promise full obedience!”
“With no conditions?”
“With no conditions!”
THERE was silence while the import of his words impressed themselves on Clifford Marsland’s brain. He realized now the strangeness of his position.
He had become a figure in gangdom, due to his incarceration in Sing Sing for a daring robbery which had been attributed to him. He was believed to be a murderer. He was known in the underworld. He had come here tonight in answer to a summons.
A sudden light dawned upon him. When he left, his reputation would be even greater! Even as the thought occurred to Cliff Marsland, The Shadow spoke.
“A man lies murdered in this room,” came the sinister tones of the being in black. “He was a notorious racketeer — a man with few friends, but with a wide reputation for his deeds.
“The killer of Tim Waldron will gain great fame in the underworld. But only two men — besides the killer himself — will know the identity of the murderer! You are one; I am the other!
“To the underworld, the slayer of Tim Waldron will be Cliff Marsland — the only person who is supposed to have visited this room tonight. We shall let that rumor spread.
“But listen closely, Clifford Marsland, while I speak the name of the real murderer — Ernie Shires! When he killed Waldron, he planned your death, for he knew that you were coming here, and that the crime would be laid to you.
“Remember the name of Ernie Shires! When the time comes, you will have your turn. You will lay open the path that will lead to the doom of Ernie Shires!”
Cliff Marsland’s lips tightened grimly. He understood The Shadow’s meaning. This was Marsland’s own idea of retribution — it had been molded in him years before, when he had battled overseas; it had been hardened by the years of imprisonment that he had undergone.
“It is not your task to kill,” continued The Shadow. “That will remain for others. It is your task to wait — and to obey.
“When you leave here, double back to the street above the hotel. You will see a sedan awaiting you, at the entrance of the first alley. Enter it and go where you are instructed. You will have work to do.
“But now our time is short. Ernie Shires left this place unmolested because his presence was unknown. Your case is different. You have been watched from the moment you entered this hotel.
“Outside, in the hallway, men are waiting — the same men who observed you in the lobby. Fight your way through them! Go down the stairs beside the elevator. Escape by the street. Are you ready?”
Marsland grinned grimly. He nodded, tense with anticipation of the adventure that lay ahead.
“Pick up that gun!” ordered The Shadow, pointing to the table.
Marsland obeyed.
“Remember” — The Shadow’s voice was a hissing tone — “you are an escaping killer! Five seconds more, and you have no other choice! Wait there — by the doorway to the outer room.”
A black-gloved hand came from beneath the crimson-lined cloak. An automatic appeared in The Shadow’s hand.
With his revolver aimed through an opening beside the window shade, the man in black fired two quick shots. Then, with a sweeping motion, he swung across the room and extinguished the light.
CLIFF MARSLAND understood. The two shots were for the benefit of the watchers in the hallway. They were the reports that would be considered as the shots that had killed Tim Waldron.
Even as these thoughts flashed through Marsland’s keen brain, the door of the outer room was flung open, and three men dashed into the apartment. Quick as a flash, Marsland ducked behind the door and swung his arm toward the onrushing avengers.
Two shots rang from his automatic. One of the men dropped. The second swung by the falling body. A ferret-eyed gunman spotted Marsland, crouching. With a cry of vengeance, the gangster aimed his automatic. Marsland saw the danger an instant too late.
Then, while Cliff remained a perfect target for the gunman’s aim, two shots came from the darkness of the inner room.
The Shadow, ever watchful, had met the need! Marsland’s enemy fell.
The third man was at the doorway. Cliff leaped upon him as he entered the darkness. A quick swing of the arm that held the automatic, and the third of Waldron’s gorillas fell.
Cliff looked quickly over his shoulder, seeking The Shadow. The man in black had completely disappeared. Only the light-colored window shade was rustling in the darkness.
Where was The Shadow?
This was no time to wonder. Cliff remembered his instructions.
He dashed across the outer room. As he reached the door, he instinctively stopped. He was just in time. The muzzle of an automatic threatened as a fourth gunman leaped from cover. Shots rang out simultaneously.
Cliff staggered in pain as he received a bullet in his shoulder. But his own fire had not missed its mark. The other man was down.
Cliff pulled the light switch in the outer room and swung his body against the wall. It was a wise move, for a fifth man had just appeared in the hallway.
The crippled men in the inner room were firing now shooting blindly in the darkness, toward the open door of the outer room. The newcomer was not visible to them. He leaped through the outer doorway blindly, and fell a victim to the gunfire of his comrades.
Crouching low, Cliff sprang across the body and dashed toward the stairs.
All was well until he arrived in the lobby. There he staggered as the lighted place seemed to whirl. He saw men there; he did not wait to decide whether they were gunmen or merely guests of the hotel. He fired two shots and saw the men scurry, like rats, for cover.
He dashed for the door, firing another shot as he went. Answering reports came from the desk behind him. The clerk tried to stop his flight; but the shots went wide.