Loo Look arose. The second light went out; a third light came on. It was red. The others had been white.
With a grin, Loo Look pulled a switch. The red light was extinguished. Laughing with fiendish merriment, the Chinaman sank back into his chair.
The red light indicated that the man in the passage was above a secret trap. The pulling of the switch had dropped him into a deep pit below.
That ended The Shadow, so Loo Look thought. But had the squat Chinaman known the true state of affairs, his chuckle would have died on his lips.
For the man who had plunged to his doom was Tiger Bronson! The gang master had found an opportunity to escape from the opium den, while the fray was still in progress!
All was quiet now; the battle had ended abruptly after Tiger Bronson had fled. Three Chinese lay, half-conscious, on the floor. The outer door opened, and a thin, black figure crept into the corridor through which Spotter had come and gone.
The Shadow moved stealthily. He made a strange appearance, in his black, jerseylike clothing, with the silk mask over his face.
He stole along the corridor, and fell with suddenness upon the Chinese guard. A minute later, the man was bound with strips of cloth ripped from his own robe.
The guardian of the outer entrance was sitting quietly on a soap box when The Shadow dealt with him. He toppled backward with a sudden gasp, and struck his head against the stone floor. The Shadow did not bind him. That would have been unnecessary.
In the street, the tall, mysterious departer merged with the shadows of the buildings. From his pocket he drew a watch, and its luminous dial shone ghostlike in the darkness. A low exclamation followed.
The Shadow had entered the lair of Loo Look. He had met the enemy, and he had emerged the victor. Yet he felt that he had failed.
It was five minutes to nine — too late to reach the radio station!
CHAPTER XXVII
VINCENT TAKES ACTION
It was quarter past nine. The game of cards was over. Harry Vincent sat alone in Blair Windsor’s living room. He could hear the click of pool balls coming from the billiard room.
He had drawn a blank when he had tuned in on WNX. Not a significant word had been said in the program. The card game had ended abruptly, shortly before the radio announcer had terminated his talk over the air.
Philip Harper and Garret Buckman were going over to see Perry Quinn at the hospital. Blair Windsor and Bert Crull had decided to shoot a game of pool.
Harry Vincent felt desperate. He had been sure of a message from The Shadow, to-night. Now the situation was difficult. What should he do?
Vernon passed through the room. The presence of this man, who Harry felt sure was implicated in the plot against Blair Windsor, brought ominous thoughts to Harry’s mind.
Ten minutes went by. The clicking of the pool balls ceased. Blair Windsor entered the room. His face was frank and full of cheer. He eyed Harry’s glum countenance.
“What’s the matter, old man?” asked Windsor.
“Nothing,” replied Harry. “I’m just thinking.”
“Like to shoot a game of pool?”
“I don’t believe so.”
Blair Windsor sat in a comfortable chair.
“Phil and Garry have gone away overnight,” he remarked.
“They have!” exclaimed Harry.
“Yes. Bert Crull suggested it. Told them they would be foolish to try to get back here. It’s raining, and it’s liable to be a bad night. They followed his suggestion. They packed up before they left.”
“Where is Crull?” asked Harry anxiously.
“He had to go downtown,” replied Blair.
Harry arose and paced the room. He was sure that a plot was brewing. With Harper and Buckman out of the way, only he and Blair remained.
Why had Crull left? To summon the man who had captured Harry on that other night?
A bad night! It would be a bad night, if the enemy chose to act!
“What’s the trouble?” questioned Blair.
Harry Vincent studied the speaker closely. He realized that he was not the only one whose safety was at stake. This affair involved Blair Windsor too. Now was no time for silence.
Harry went over and shut the door, first assuring himself that Vernon was not in the hall.
“Listen, Blair.” Harry’s voice carried a stern emphasis that brought a look of surprise to the other’s face. “There’s trouble here. Real trouble. We’ve got to meet it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just this. People are plotting against you. I suspect both Bert Crull and Vernon.”
“Impossible!”
“It’s not impossible, Blair. Who lives in that farmhouse, over on the other side of the little hill?”
Blair Windsor shrugged his shoulders.
“Some old fellow who rented it from the farmer,” he replied. “He’s been over there quite a while. I’ve only seen him once or twice.”
“Why have Crull and Vernon visited him?” questioned Harry. “Did you know that they have been there?”
“No.”
“Well, they have. There’s something mysterious about it, too. Some person disappeared from your cellar, Blair. I think it was Vernon. I saw him in the farmhouse shortly after.”
“When?”
“The night I went away.”
“I thought you went away early in the morning.”
“I didn’t tell the exact facts,” explained Harry. “I went away that night — just to look in at the farmhouse. A man landed on my back, and grabbed me.”
Blair Windsor’s face became serious, and wondering. He seemed puzzled.
“Who was it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Harry. “I got away from him later.”
He paused for an instant; then decided that it would take too long to tell of his imprisonment in the shack in the woods. It was important to rouse his friend to action.
“Blair,” said Harry, “I suspected trouble here. I don’t know what it’s all about; but it concerns you. There’s a bad gang at work.
“We must be on guard. I suggest that you call Harper and Buckman. Bring them back to help us.”
Blair Windsor considered the suggestion. Then he shook his head.
“I believe you, Vincent,” he said. “One or two things have happened here that have just now come to my mind. You may be mistaken about it all; but if you are right, I think we can handle it alone.”
“Harper and Buckman would be a help, perhaps.”
“I agree with you. But if there is really danger, it must be met quickly. I’ll leave it to you. Shall we work on this right now, or later?”
“I think now is the time. If Bert Crull is in on it, he’ll be back before we can get hold of Harper and Buckman.”
Windsor’s willingness to take immediate action was good news to Harry Vincent. It was much better to take a hand now than to wait.
“You’re right, Blair,” said Harry. “Here’s what I suggest we do. Investigate the cellar first.”
“Fine. I have two automatics upstairs. Let’s get them.”
Harry’s own automatic was in the car, but he preferred to use the one that Windsor might supply.
He did not want to mention The Shadow. If he revealed the fact that he had come to Brookdale prepared, it might lead to questioning on Blair’s part.
“What about Vernon?” asked Harry, as Blair rose from his chair.
Blair Windsor nodded.
“I’ll get him out of the way,” he said. “He can drive the light car. I’ll send him downtown for some supplies.”
Windsor went into the hall and called Vernon. The man answered from upstairs. Blair went up to meet him on the landing. Vernon came down a minute later, counting items on his fingers, and muttering, “Eggs, potatoes, bread—”