Harry turned his head away, looked for some chance object upon which he could concentrate his gaze.
He wanted anything that would help him hold his thoughts away from the racking pains that would soon tear through his limbs.
THERE was a small window in the rear wall, just below the ceiling. It had no shade; that indicated that the window must be below the level of a small courtyard. Probably the space outside the window was topped by a grating. Neither Shark nor Moy Ming supposed that any one could peer into their torture chamber, through that window.
Shark was glaring at Harry. Moy Ming was copying the stare. The Mongols were silently waiting at the wringers. Only Harry looked to the window, hence the prisoner alone saw the face that suddenly appeared there.
It was a wizened face; pale but foxy. It pressed to the pane, its little eyes shifting everywhere, to make sure that no one but Harry was looking in its direction. Once the quick eyes met Harry's, the face shifted away. Only the blackened window pane remained, when Shark happened to glance there.
With an effort, Harry repressed the smile that tried to force itself to his drawn face. Rescue was at hand.
He had recognized the face at the window.
The peering man was "Hawkeye," a crafty agent who prowled the underworld in search of information for The Shadow.
Hawkeye was teamed with Cliff Marsland, a husky chap who had a reputation in the badlands.
Gangdom classed Cliff as a crook and a killer. Actually, Cliff was working for The Shadow.
Silently, Harry thanked himself for remembering that routine call to Burbank. Like other active agents, Harry sometimes failed to consider the dangers that might lurk in simple missions, such as this visit to Moy Ming.
Burbank, filling long, dreary hours at his contact post, had a habit of weighing all details that were passed to him. When absent, The Shadow depended upon Burbank much more than the other agents supposed.
Burbank's methodical mind had worked promptly after Harry's call. Burbank had decided that if Harry's mission proved simple, the presence of Cliff and Hawkeye could do no harm. Should things go wrong -
as they had - the other agents would be necessary. So Burbank had called them to give instructions of the sort that The Shadow would approve.
Into Harry's thoughts came an interruption that seemed very far away until Harry snapped from his reverie. Shark Meglo was snarling new threats. They were final. Harry turned his head to meet Shark's glare.
"Are you talking?" demanded Shark. "Or do you want more heat? We can give it -"
His fingers had come up. The Mongols were starting pressure on the handles. As the new strain tormented him, Harry panted:
"I'll - I'll talk!"
SHARK halted the torture. Harry gave a groan. Shark made the Mongols release their pressure. Harry settled loosely on the ironing-boards. The strain ended, he could feel that he was intact. All he had to do was bluff Shark, while Cliff and Hawkeye finished quick preparations for attack.
"I'd tell you about The Shadow - if I could," falsified Harry. "I never saw him - not before that night at Silsam's. It was afterward that he came to me, to tell me about Moy Ming. All that he wanted was to learn where Moy Ming was. He didn't say why -"
Above Harry's words came an interruption that made Shark whip away. Revolver shots had sounded, from somewhere outside the building. The reports chilled Harry; for he thought that Cliff and Hawkeye must have run into Shark's reserves. The fusillade became brisker.
Shark yanked out a revolver and sprang toward the rear door. Ready for departure, he pointed to Harry and shouted to Moy Ming:
"Give him the dirk! He's no good to us! Get rid of the body!"
Out came Moy Ming's knife. The lean blade gleamed above Harry's eyes while the Mongols kept the rope taut so that the prisoner's heart lay open to the assassin's thrust. Harry did not flinch; he watched the knife point coolly. After all, he had expected death; and the blade would be quicker than the rack.
A crash riveted Moy Ming; held him, his hand still upraised while his almond eyes darted in a new direction. Husky hands had cracked the little window near the ceiling. The frame was toppling into the room, glass and all. With it came Hawkeye sliding through feet-first.
The little man hit the floor along with the smashing window frame and took a bounding leap that would have done credit to a rabbit.
"Get Vincent!" snapped Shark. "Finish him, Moy Ming! I'll take care of this mug!"
Shark aimed for Hawkeye but the human rabbit was away, beyond a metal laundry tub. Shark's bullets clanged steel. Moy Ming however had time to follow Shark's order. He poised again and drove the knife blade downward.
An automatic stabbed from the space where the window had been. Harry saw Cliff Marsland fire that shot. Steady of aim, poker-faced in expression, Cliff delivered the needed dose. His bullet took Moy Ming in the heart.
The slug from Cliff's .45 carried an impact that jolted the knife-jabbing Chinaman. Moy Ming lurched, his stab went wide. The blade buried in the edge of the ironing-board, at Harry's shoulder. Moy Ming slumped to the floor, dead.
Hawkeye was answering Shark's fire. The odds favored Hawkeye, for he had cover and Shark was in the open. Shark yanked the bolt of the rear door and made a dive out into the darkness. Luck was with the killer again. He seemed almost to dodge Hawkeye's peppering fire. Shark was off on another getaway.
Before the Mongols could make trouble, Cliff and Hawkeye had them covered. Crashes came from the sliding door that led to the front part of the shop. An ax hewed through. The Mongols saw the blue uniform of a policeman. Together, the pair started for the rear route that Shark had taken.
Neither Cliff nor Hawkeye fired. They heeded a warning call that Harry gave. Hawkeye, bounded to the window, shot his arms up to it so Cliff could tug him through. Shots ripped from the shattered sliding door, stopping the Mongols in their tracks. Then the barrier crashed entirely.
Into the room came Joe Cardona, carrying a smoking revolver. He was followed by the private dick, Jim Tyrune. A few moments later, Michael Chanbury joined them.
RELEASED, Harry gave a satisfactory explanation. He said there had been a message at the hotel, asking him to come here and collect a package of laundry that had been lost in transit. Moy Ming had trapped him; afterwards, Shark had arrived.
To avoid mention of Cliff and Hawkeye, Harry said that Shark had started flight when he heard the police give battle with the front street guards. Moy Ming had objected to Shark's hasty departure; so Shark had shot him down, probably because the Chinaman knew too much.
Harry's story suited Cardona. The ace gave Harry an explanation of his own, concerning the law's invasion.
"You owe your life to Chanbury," informed Joe. "After you started for town, he began to worry about your safety. So we came in, the three of us: Chanbury, Tyrune and myself - and we stopped outside the Metrolite. We saw you come out and take a cab. We followed."
"But we lost you," put in Tyrune. "We had to get out and look around, with some patrolmen. That's how we ran into Shark's outfit."
Like Cardona, Tyrune gave credit to Chanbury. Harry thanked the grizzled art collector, and shook hands warmly. Chanbury's blunt features showed embarrassment, although his keen eyes flashed a pleased twinkle.
"It was nothing," assured Chanbury. "I'd been doing some worrying on my own; that's how I happened to think of you, Vincent. Maybe you can do as much for me some time, Vincent."
BACK at the hotel, Harry reviewed the night's adventure. He knew that Shark would avoid another thrust. The killer was satisfied that Harry knew little; and with Moy Ming dead, there was nothing that Harry could learn for The Shadow.
Events would remain latent until after The Shadow's return. Tonight, however, Harry had learned one fact. Michael Chanbury was a man who could show both keenness and action. Even though Cliff and Hawkeye were Harry's actual rescuers, Chanbury deserved the credit given him.