Shark did not try to fire. He was more yellow than The Shadow supposed. Shark made a wild dive away from The Shadow's gun muzzle, giving a hoarse shout as he hit the floor.
Shark's crew heard; they whipped about to see The Shadow. Not guessing that Shark had yellowed, the mobbies were ready to deliver fire.
It was The Shadow's turn for a shift of action. Halting, he sped his free hand to the light switch and pressed it. The room was blotted in an instant. The Shadow had whirled away when the trigger-men began their fire.
Amid the barks of wildly stabbing revolvers came the spurts of The Shadow's .45, pumping its deadly metal. Darkness was The Shadow's entrenchment. He was everywhere, yet nowhere. Thugs were sinking, wounded; others thought they had located The Shadow. Revolvers boomed in unison, all in one direction.
As the echoes ended, a laugh sounded in the ears of the faltering killers. An instant later, The Shadow was sledging strokes to unprotected skulls, in the very midst of the clustered crew!
CROOKS broke. They dashed for the doorways, hoping that The Shadow's gun was empty. It was; but he was drawing a second weapon. He ripped new bullets after the fleeing horde. The few who escaped were lucky. Only two were able to reach the hallway; but there was one who had gone ahead of them.
That was Shark Meglo. He had taken flight through the kitchenette, during that last set-to in the darkness.
In the hallway, the pair of fleeing crooks bowled over Henshew and the doorman. They were headed for the open elevator; but the operator slammed it in their faces and they took to the stairs instead.
Henshew, playing the part of a frightened man, ran along the hall trying to open apartment doors; and the doorman followed him. Some one let them into an apartment.
All was quiet on the battle ground, except for the groans of crippled thugs who lay in Henshew's living room. Somewhere in the darkness moved The Shadow; but there was another who had suddenly chosen a lurking game. That was Shark Meglo.
The pair of routed hoodlums had torn past Shark before he could reach the stairway, for their route was shorter. When he reached the stairs, Shark stopped. A vicious look covered his long-jawed face.
So it was The Shadow, after all; and The Shadow thought that Shark was yellow. Whatever Shark's own estimate of himself, he saw advantage in the situation. The Shadow would be coming out from Henshew's, confident that no enemy remained. That was where The Shadow would be fooled. The Shadow would find no one; but some one would find The Shadow.
That some one would be Shark!
Crouched on the stairs, Shark waited, ready with his gun. He hadn't wasted a shot from that big weapon.
He would have six of them for The Shadow when that bullet-dodger came. With narrowed eyes, Shark watched from the stairs.
Those minutes in Henshew's apartment had been brief but rapid. The minutes that Shark waited were few, but interminably long.
In them, Shark could hear Henshew and the doorman coming out to investigate. Once they went into the apartment, The Shadow would move out. Shark grinned at the pleasant thought. There was only one way The Shadow could come, right now; that was from the kitchenette door.
Shark steadied his gun in that direction, watching for the slightest streak of blackness.
Something cold pressed Shark's neck. Its frigid touch streaked down his yellow spine. A fierce, contemptuous whisper sounded in his ear. The murderer's gun hand loosened; his revolver thudded.
Impossible though it was, The Shadow had come up the stairs behind him. The black-clad master had outwitted Shark at the game of silent ambush!
THROUGH a window from Henshew's apartment, to one on the floor below, such had been The Shadow's simple effective strategy. Deprived of his protecting crew, Shark Meglo had became The Shadow's prisoner.
Forced to his feet, Shark stood with upraised hands, as The Shadow moved him forward toward the main hallway that fronted on Henshew's apartment. Shark knew what The Shadow intended.
He was going to turn him over to other captors, who would hold him for the law. Shark knew what that would mean. The hot seat!
"I get it," snarled Shark, without turning his head. "You're going to hand me over! But what about Henshew -"
Shark heard The Shadow laugh. The yellow murderer chewed his lips. He had blabbed too much.
Maybe The Shadow would have handed him to Henshew! - thought Shark. That would have meant escape. It wouldn't after what Shark had just said.
First at the hallway corner, Shark saw the doorman and some persons who had come from other apartments. They had picked up revolvers in Henshew's apartment. They stared, gaping, at the sight of Shark advancing in surrender; for they did not discern The Shadow, that blackened, avenging form behind the killer.
Men raised their guns, to take over the prisoner. With bleary eyes, Shark saw that Henshew was absent.
That did not matter; Henshew could not help. Things looked bad for Shark Meglo.
They looked bad for Madden Henshew, too.
In his apartment, the crooked gem dealer had waited in the living room alcove. Others had gone outside.
Flattened thugs were listless and disinterested. No one was present to watch Henshew's actions at the bookcase. Greedily, Henshew pulled out volumes and slid up the hidden panel.
This time, it was Henshew's turn to view blankness, where he had expected the glitter of gems. He was seeing the vacancy that The Shadow had previously viewed in this very space. Henshew's hidden baubles were gone.
Crooks had not arrived in time to prevent their removal. The Shadow's battle had been a delayed action; the follow-up of previous operations.
Madden Henshew stared at the rifled nest. Mechanically, he closed the panel and put the books back in place. With gritted teeth, he picked up a revolver that lay upon the floor. Quivering as he moved along, Henshew was gripped by one dominating thought.
The master-crook wanted to meet The Shadow. He was to have that wish much sooner than he expected.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE WRONG HUNT
WHEN Madden Henshew reached the hallway, he stopped there, riveted. His astoundment was greater than a minute ago. It seemed plausible that The Shadow could have taken the hidden gems; but the willing surrender of Shark Meglo was inconceivable.
It was then that Henshew guessed the truth. Some one was standing past Shark, forcing the killer forward. Shark was a prisoner of The Shadow. Henshew's revolver seemed to freeze in his hand. He could not have pulled the trigger if he had tried.
Henshew was as helpless as Shark. With the killer's body as a shield, The Shadow could mow down anyone who started trouble.
At that moment, Henshew felt sure his game was up. The Shadow knew too much. Henshew wanted to dodge back into the apartment. He realized that he could be instantly trapped there. Nothing that Henshew could think up, would serve in this emergency.
Chance provided, where schemes failed.
Before Shark had advanced another reluctant step, there was a clang from the elevator door. Looking straight along the hall, Henshew was facing the elevator. He saw its occupants; The Shadow could not.
The Shadow's back was toward the elevator.
"Get him!" shrieked Henshew, his cry spontaneous. "Shoot him down! The man in black!"
There were two policemen in the car - beat-pounders that the elevator operator had summoned. They did not recognize The Shadow as someone who sided with the law. They heard Henshew's cry as one of authority. They saw a big gun in The Shadow's fist. The weapon was pressed against the neck of a man whose face they could not spy. They took Shark for a victim, not a killer.
Shark was almost as quick as Henshew, for Shark was speedy when it came to self-preservation. He took a forward pitch to the floor, to get away from The Shadow's aim and give Henshew a chance to fire. It was then that Henshew really saw The Shadow and caught the glint of the master-fighter's burning eyes.