But neither Kendall nor Elverton had reckoned with The Shadow! He — the master fighter — had set forth to stay the hand of crime!
CHAPTER XVI
THE SECOND STROKE
“HOLD it! Where are you going?”
The exclamation came from Tim Mecke. The camouflaged gunman was in the rear portion of the armored car. He was peering over the driver’s shoulder as he spoke. The man applied the brakes.
“Going in town,” he responded. “Where do you think?”
“We’re supposed to go up to Kendall’s house,” corrected Tim. “Got to pick up some luggage that the old man wants taken into New Avalon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” growled the driver.
“You’ll have to back up,” said Tim.
The gangster peered through a special loophole at the side of the car. He was ready to make some excuse that would slow this progress and block the road for the car that he expected, when he saw headlights looming down the turn.
“Hold it!” he cried once more. “Look out! We’re in for it!”
As he cried the unexpected warning, Tim Mecke thrust a revolver barrel through the loophole and fired a shot. He saw the coming car veer to the side of the road. Tim fired again.
“What’s the matter?” cried a man beside him.
“Bandits!” exclaimed Tim, delivering a third shot. “They’ve got us covered! Get to the other loop!”
The man in back obeyed. The driver, too, leaped to a loophole. Then came the answer for which Tim had hoped. Through the loophole, the gunman saw a revolver flash. The others observed it also. It came from the stopped car.
Tim Mecke knew the way of detectives. He had fired his first shots wild, knowing that Donald Cady would be armed and would reply in kind. As Cady’s bullet smashed ineffectively against the side of the armored car, Tim was elated. He had two witnesses now — his companions would swear that Cady had made the attack. The side of the car bore the mark of the detective’s shot!
Suddenly, Cady’s car shot forward. The sleuth had spied a space between the front of the armored car and the road to New Avalon. He realized that he was in a predicament; he had decided to run the gantlet.
Another futile shot came from the detective’s gun. Then, as the distance narrowed, Tim Mecke, confident, took careful aim and gave his final order.
“Let them have it!”
AT the very instant when Tim spoke, another pair of headlights flashed down the road from the mansion. With a terrific grind of brakes, a coupe skewed sidewise and stopped almost against the armored car. A searchlight spotted the loopholes through which the guards were firing.
Tim’s companions fired an instant before Tim was ready. The gunman, confident in his skill, was aiming at an angle through the loophole. The guards shot wild. Tim had his gun squarely covering the dim form of Donald Cady. The gangster’s finger lingered momentarily upon the trigger.
A mammoth roar broke from the second car. A bullet shot from an automatic, aimed with perfect precision. Its target was the revolver barrel that glimmered threateningly from the central loophole.
Tim Mecke staggered back. His weapon clattered to the floor of the car. The Shadow had intervened to prevent the fatal shot. The range was short; with his car at a standstill, the master marksman had picked a perfect target for his deadly aim.
Loopholes dropped shut. Donald Cady’s car sped ahead. The driver, sensing that the second menace was greater than that of the fleeing automobile, put the car into gear. Tim Mecke grabbed up another revolver, and shouted to the man behind him.
“Cover that fellow in back!” ordered Tim. “I’ll get the guy ahead!”
The guard at the rear opened a loophole in the back of the armored car. Tim Mecke jumped up with the driver, and shoved his revolver through a loophole above the bullet-proof windshield.
“Get him!” snarled the gangster.
The race developed into an amazing episode. Donald Cady had gained a head start. The light armored car, however, was speedy in pursuit. The driver, spurred on by oaths, drove like mad.
The Shadow, his car turned in the road, was well behind when he, in turn, took up the pursuit. Within a half mile, the armored car was gaining on Cady so effectively that the detective’s automobile was almost within range. At the same time, the coupe was traveling with remarkable swiftness, lessening the space between it and the armored car!
Tim Mecke fired. The range was too great. He shot again, wildly, but close enough to offer better possibilities. He poised his gun for the third shot. This time his aim would be sure. Tim pressed the trigger.
At the very instant of the gangster’s aim, The Shadow fired. The stern pursuer had been coming on with complete disregard for futile shots that the rear man of the armored car was delivering.
WHEN The Shadow’s automatic zoomed, it did so with marked effect. Its target was a rear tire of the armored car. The .45 found its mark.
Just as Tim Mecke was pressing the trigger of his revolver, the light armored car did a dizzy skid. Tim’s shot burst forth, but the swerve of the car rendered it futile. The driver tried madly to right his vehicle. He failed.
The armored car whirled about and struck the ditch. It rebounded and rolled along on two wheels. The flattened tire was on the uppermost side. The car came to a stop, the driver gripping the wheel, Tim and the other man prostrate in back.
The road was narrow here. The stopping of the truck had nearly blocked it. Tim Mecke heard a cry from the driver. Through the windshield, the gangster saw the pursuing coupe dip to the ditch and wedge straight past the crippled armored car.
Tim jumped to the front loophole. He was too late. He shoved his revolver through a side loop. A bullet smashed close by that spot. Tim ducked instinctively. Then he saw the coupe gather speed.
To Tim’s ears came the faint sound of what the gangster took for mockery, but did not recognize as the mirth of which he had often heard — the laugh of The Shadow.
Tim’s cause was hopeless now. The armored car was out of commission. Donald Cady — if it were he in the first car — was far ahead.
Tim Mecke, bewildered, wondered how two machines had come into the fight. He did not actually know which had carried Cady. Foulkrod Kendall had said nothing about two cars!
UP ahead, The Shadow was driving into the limits of New Avalon. The delay caused him by the armored car had given Donald Cady a clear path into town. Kendall’s futile effort to stop the detective had failed. Cady would keep his appointment with Vic Marquette.
The detective was probably still fearful of pursuit. He had probably known nothing of the fate which had overtaken the armored car.
The Shadow swung into the main street without sighting Cady’s automobile. He turned the coupe into an obscure thoroughfare which would take him to the rear of the New Avalon Hotel.
The Shadow intended to be present when Cady met Marquette. The two would probably go to Marquette’s room.
There was a little-used entrance to the rear of the lobby; it came in not far from the secluded stairway. That was to be The Shadow’s course. The victorious battler pulled his car up at a darkened parking space.
At the very moment of The Shadow’s arrival, Donald Cady was within the portals of the New Avalon Hotel. Looking about him, the cadaverous detective spied Vic Marquette, seated in a corner. Cady hurried across, filled with excitement. Marquette arose and motioned to him to be quiet.
“They were after me,” gasped the sleuth.
“Easy,” reminded Marquette.
“I’ve got to watch out!” exclaimed Cady; thrusting his hand to his pocket, to make sure his gun was in readiness.