“We’ve got to get him,” snapped Isaac Coffran. “We’ve got to make sure the others are dead. We have The Shadow where we want him, now.”
Then the old man explained his plan. He would remain alone at Blair Windsor’s. He had barred the door. He would be there with an automatic, in the cellar. There were several guns available in Windsor’s room.
The others — with the exception of the wounded Jerry — must attack at once. They could proceed quickly and silently through the tunnel. Then they must shoot to kill.
“Suppose he gets us,” objected Crull.
“What if he does?” inquired the old man. “You’ll all be in for it, if he gets away. The police will be on your trail in no time — and the whole secret service, in addition.”
Birdie Crull held a rapid discussion with the others in the farmhouse. The parley resulted in agreement with Isaac Coffran. Crull told the old man that they would attack immediately.
It was a desperate group that entered the tunnel from the farmhouse. Birdie Crull led the way, carrying the only available small arm. Blair Windsor and Vernon followed, each armed with a rifle. The weapons had been obtained in the farmhouse. Jerry remained by the entrance.
Once the expedition had begun, the intrepid Bert Crull became filled with courage and confidence.
“He won’t expect us back,” he whispered. “Sneak through softly. Stay behind me. Do everything I tell you.
“We’ll get him this time. The old man would have got him, but he picked up the wrong gun.”
They saw a light at the end of the tunnel. The Shadow had evidently found the switch which illuminated the cavern.
“This makes it better,” whispered Crull.
As the three men crept to the opening of the cavern, Birdie Crull peered cautiously around the edge. There was no one in view.
One factor worried him. That was the entrance at the other side. Circling the edge of the cavern, the gunman crouched beside the opposite opening.
“I’m watching here,” he said, in a whisper that was audible throughout the low room. “Come on in. Look in the pit.”
Blair Windsor inspected the open grating.
“They’re gone,” he said.
“That guy got them out,” snarled Crull. “That means just one thing, boys. He’s dragged them — whether they’re dead or alive — and they’ve taken the tunnel to the large house.
“They can’t get through there. The old man is waiting for them. We’ll sneak in on them.”
There was a slight sound from the corner of the cavern. Birdie Crull had gone by the spot a moment before. There had been no one in sight.
All three turned toward the spot from which the sound had come. They were staring directly at the torture casket in which Harry Vincent had once been.
Now a black form emerged from the opening in the top. The astounded counterfeiters were staring into the muzzles of two revolvers — held by The Shadow!
They had no opportunity to raise their weapons. Birdie Crull dropped his gun, and it slipped into the sloping opening that led to Windsor’s house. The other two men let their rifles fall.
A taunting, uncanny laugh came from the figure in black. Its mirthless tones quivered from the walls of the eerie cavern. It seemed to be the laugh of doom.
“So three of you came back,” mocked the weird, whispered voice of The Shadow. “I expected you. Now you are here — to answer for your crimes.
“Your crime is murder, Birdie Crull. Double murder. You killed Frank Jarnow. You killed Detective Harvey Griffith. I can prove your crimes.
“As for you, Blair Windsor, your position is obvious. You have lived here, supplied with money by Isaac Coffran, to mask this counterfeiting scheme.
“But the old man expected more of you. Your brother, Henry Windsor, has half a million dollars — which is willed to you.
“You agreed to give half of that sum to Isaac Coffran. It was to be obtained through the murder of Henry Windsor.”
“He made me sign the paper,” blurted Blair. “I didn’t want to agree to Henry’s death — but there was no way out!”
“Ah!” The Shadow seemed to chuckle. “So you signed something. I am glad to learn that fact. It gives me information. I know just how Frank Jarnow figured.
“He found the paper, and took it from Isaac Coffran’s room. Birdie Crull killed Jarnow to obtain it.”
A look of dismay appeared upon Birdie Crull’s face. The Shadow laughed, as his theory was confirmed.
“But you didn’t get it, did you?” questioned The Shadow, addressing Birdie Crull. “No. Wait. You took most of it, but left part.
“Harrison would have suspected an entire document; but not a fragment. Griffith suspected the fragment. That’s why you killed Griffith.”
The amazing revelations of the mysterious figure in black disconcerted Birdie Crull. Only the head and shoulders of The Shadow were visible; they presented a weird figure, atop the torture casket.
The cavern became silent, as The Shadow ceased speaking. He seemed to be in deep thought.
Then he began to emerge, straight upward, from the strange box in which he had crouched and hidden.
It was a difficult feat; but The Shadow accomplished it, with amazing agility. He loomed high above the box; then he slid downward to the ground.
At that instant, Birdie Crull made a dash for safety. He dived into the opening that led to Blair Windsor’s house, seizing his automatic in his forward plunge.
The Shadow fired after his departing figure. Strangely, the shot went wide. It was as though The Shadow had deliberately chosen to let the man escape. The single report of his automatic sounded like a signal.
The man in the black cloak calmly pocketed his revolvers. They slipped from sight beneath the sable folds. Evidently he feared no attack from either Blair Windsor or Vernon.
The two men stood stock-still, their hands above their heads. The departure of Birdie Crull had left them too frightened to move.
Ignoring them, The Shadow went to the table. He produced a paper and pen, and began to write. In the midst of his words, pistol shots echoed through the tunnel in which Birdie Crull had disappeared. The Shadow uttered his mocking laugh.
Across the top of the written page, he inscribed these words: “The Confession of Bertram (Birdie) Crull.”
Two men came from the opening, supporting the body of a third. They were Harry Vincent and Vic Marquette, carrying the helpless form of Birdie Crull. The killer was coughing. His clothes were stained with blood.
“I tried to get him easy,” explained Marquette, ruefully. “We were laying for him, just as we were ordered to do. But somehow, I always kill them when I have to shoot.”
“Bring him here.”
The Shadow’s order was obeyed. The man in the black cloak rose and stepped aside, while Birdie Crull was placed in the chair. The Shadow thrust the pen in the gangster’s weakening hand.
“Sign!”
The ominous sound of that commanding whisper hissed through the low cavern like a voice from the dim beyond. Birdie Crull, his physical being on the border of death, could not resist. With a last spontaneous effort, he placed his signature to the truthful confession, which told that he had murdered Frank Jarnow and Harvey Griffith.
The weakened murderer collapsed as he completed the last stroke of the pen. Before Marquette could catch him, he toppled from the chair, and lay dead upon the floor of the cavern.
“Watch the prisoners.”
The voice of The Shadow was a sibilant tone, that aroused both Vincent and Marquette. Turning, they left the body of the dead crook, and covered Windsor and Vernon.
No one else was in the room. Like a phantom of the Stygian darkness, The Shadow had disappeared. He was gone — and none had seen him vanish.