The Shadow did not reply. Still playing a part, he glowered wickedly at the man who had captured him. He stood there, with puffed lips and twisted nose, his shadow forming a huge blot on the floor before him.
“What are you doing here?” demanded the Federal agent. “You aren’t in on the game. I know that. Trying to steal something?”
“Why should I tell you?” came the sullen reply.
The Federal agent shrugged his shoulders.
“You’ll talk later on,” he said. “For your information, I’m not alone on this job. My pals are getting in upstairs. We’re going to grab everybody in the place.”
The prisoner remained silent. There were footsteps on the stairs.
“Here they are now,” added the secret-service man.
He turned his head to stare into the barrel of a revolver carried by Doc Birch. The pawnbroker’s face was distorted with anger.
“Drop that gun!” he snarled. “I’ll shoot you clear out of the place!”
The Federal agent’s automatic clattered on the cellar floor. Doc Birch studied him with keen eyes; then his gaze shifted to the rough gangster standing by the coal pile.
“This fellow isn’t with you,” observed Birch. “That’s sure enough. Well, I’ll find out the whole lay before I’m through with you. Government man, eh? Looking for some sort of evidence?”
The pawnbroker went to the box which held the counterfeit bills. Using his left hand he pulled the bundles out one by one and tossed them into the furnace near by.
“Always keep a fire going during warm weather,” he said. “It’s a good place to burn rubbish.”
The secret-service man stared grimly while Doc Birch completed the destruction of the counterfeit bills.
“Sorry you came in so soon,” said the pawnbroker calmly. He looked in the furnace and closed the door. “Wait about five minutes. Then you can look around all you like and pick up anything you can find.”
He stared toward The Shadow.
“You’re out of luck, fellow,” he said. “I’ve got a right to plug you. You’re a burglar. Well, keep your mouth shut. Savvy?”
The secret-service man interrupted.
“You might as well give up, Birch,” he said in his firm voice. “You’re in for enough already, without using that gun of yours. My men are coming in your house now.”
“That so?” sneered Birch. “Let them come. They won’t find anything. You don’t know what I burned, and you never will know.”
“You can’t get rid of the plates,” replied the Federal agent. “So put your gun away. The jig is up.”
“What plates?” Doc Birch’s voice was filled with apprehension.
“The plates this fellow just uncovered in the coal pile,” replied the officer.
Birch’s face was livid with rage.
“So that’s your game!” he exclaimed. “Sending a fake burglar in to plant some plates! You birds are worse than a gang of crooks. Well I’ll chance it, just for that. It’s curtains for both of you!”
His finger was on the trigger of the revolver as it covered the secret-service man. But before he could fire the threatened shot, the roughly dressed hoodlum sprang forward.
Seeing the sudden menace, Birch changed his aim. But the sweatered attacker had anticipated the move. He made a dive to the floor, just as the shots rang out. In another instant he caught the astonished pawnbroker by the ankle and jerked him to the floor.
Birch lost his hold on the gun. It clattered against the furnace.
The secret-service man took advantage of the opportunity. He owed his life to the timely intervention of the pretended rowdy; but he thought the fellow had acted merely to save himself.
Seizing his own automatic from the floor, where it had lain since he dropped it at Birch’s command, the Federal agent swung it back and forth, covering both Doc Birch and The Shadow, who was now kneeling beside the box near the furnace.
“Hands up!” cried the Federal agent. “Hands up, or I’ll fire!”
Doc Birch obeyed as he rose to a sitting position. But The Shadow did not follow the order.
In a single second he had changed his identity. He had covered himself with the cloak and hat which lay beside the box. Like a flash he was behind a post; next he was on the stairs, moving toward the floor above.
The Federal agent’s shots were wide. But as the fleeing form in black reached the head of the stairs, it encountered two men who were hurrying to the cellar. They were the expected reenforcements.
The new arrivals were ready for the situation. Their automatics were in their hands; but the closeness of the being in black did not allow them time to use them. Instead, they leaped as one upon the tall figure as it encountered them.
The result was surprising.
One of the agents crumpled beneath a terrific blow that struck him. His nerveless fingers lost their hold upon the automatic, and he sank helpless to the floor.
The other grappled with his antagonist; but the wiry figure in black broke his hold, and the man went tumbling down the cellar stairs.
A cry escaped his lips. It was heard by others. An entire detail of secret-service men were entering the side door, which had been opened for them.
Their guns barked, but their hasty aim was too late for the escaping figure. The Shadow sped up the stairs to the second floor, his form virtually invisible in the semidarkness.
“I’ve got him!” shouted one of the agents, as he leveled his automatic and fired into the darkness.
But before the echo of his shots had died away, he heard a mocking sound from the floor above. It was a long, raucous laugh; a laugh that taunted; a laugh that meant much more than mere words.
It was the laugh of The Shadow!
CHAPTER XVI
SPOTTER SEES THE SHADOW
Scarcely had the sound of The Shadow’s laugh died away before half a dozen of the Federal agents were up the stairs in pursuit. They were fearless men, accustomed to fierce raids. They had been baffled for the moment. Nothing could stop them now. They had no thoughts of danger as they took up their mad pursuit.
Nor did they have an inkling that their quarry was a friend. The Shadow had chosen to play a part, during his present quest — one that would bring Doc Birch’s undoing. He had regained his enshrouding garb in hope of passing from the picture. He had ended all chance for explanations. Departure was his only course.
The government men occupied the second floor with amazing quickness. There were only four rooms there and their flashlights spread to every corner. The closed windows were sufficient proof that their quarry had not escaped.
The men had separated in their search. Two of them entered a room at the back of the house. They were ready with their automatics. A harsh laugh came from the corner by the window. One that was different from The Shadow’s own mirth.
Both men fired at the spot. Their lights were focused upon the place where they believed the man in black was standing. But the deceptive voice of The Shadow had fooled them. They heard the laugh again, coming from the blank wall where their lights gleamed.
Before they had realized the deception of ventriloquism which had been practiced, The Shadow was upon them.
Sweeping from behind the opened door of the room, he seized their necks with iron hands, and drove one against the other.
Then he was gone, down the hall. He side-stepped two new antagonists, and dodged into the door of a room. Before they could stop their rush, the door had slammed in their faces, and they heard the key turn in the lock.
Crash!
One of the Federal agents, a powerful man, hurled himself against the barrier. Another joined him; and after several terrific blows, the door gave way and the men were precipitated into the room.