The gang leader was gone! Unarmed, he had managed to sneak away during the final stages of the conflict.
Loud voices reached The Shadow’s ears. They were coming from the stairway behind the stage. The Shadow knew the meaning of the shouts that he heard. People had heard the shots on the floor below. Rescuers were coming up through.
The Shadow did not linger. His swift form was no more than a gliding patch of blackness as it merged with the gloom near the window through which he had entered the ballroom. As men came clambering from the stage, that window closed. A batlike shape suspended itself from the outside balcony.
A spudgy sound gave evidence of The Shadow’s progress down the wall. The black-clad phantom, with suction disks at work, neared an open window. His invisible shape glided into a darkened room, several floors below. There, a lighted cigarette tip denoted the presence of a man.
“Report,” came the weird whisper of The Shadow.
The tip of light faltered. Then, in an awed voice, Cliff Marsland made reply to his chief, whose sudden entry had escaped his observation.
“Stopped them at the fire tower,” announced Cliff. “They made a dash for it. Caught them halfway and dropped both. I came down the tower to this room.”
“Remain here,” ordered The Shadow. “You will not be questioned. You will receive orders when to leave.”
The cloak swished through the room. Cliff Marsland caught a momentary glimpse of a blotting shape in black, as the door to the hallway opened and closed again.
The Shadow’s agent turned on the light. Cliff Marsland removed his coat and vest, tuned in the radio, and sat down in an easy-chair.
He had done The Shadow’s bidding tonight. He had served The Shadow well. His automatics were tucked out of sight. As The Shadow had said, Cliff would probably not be questioned.
But Cliff Marsland, despite the skill and precision with which he had picked off Duffy Bagland’s two reserves, could not feel pride in his accomplishment. While he had delivered crippling shots to two ruffians, The Shadow, Cliff knew, had eliminated a horde!
Even now, while Cliff was laying low to cover his part in this night’s work, The Shadow was again faring forth to make sure that he had accomplished all that might be needed!
CHAPTER VI
THE DOUBLE CROSS
DUFFY BAGLAND was the man whom The Shadow had set forth to find. The hard-faced gang leader, much though he might be fuming, had encountered luck tonight. He had escaped The Shadow — an accomplishment as rare as the consummation of a daring crime.
His accidental discovery of the black-cloaked watcher had been Duffy’s salvation. The Shadow had dealt with him silently, in order not to alarm the mobsters, and Duffy Bagland had still lived. The roar of revolver shots had come dimly to the gang leader’s groggy brain. Duffy Bagland, rising while The Shadow fought, had instinctively staggered away from the direction of the shots.
Good fortune had guided him. At the moment of The Shadow’s departure — even while men were entering from the stage of the ballroom — Duffy Bagland had snapped from his daze to find himself clear across the big room.
The men who had entered had no flashlights. They were seeking switches on the wall. Duffy, unarmed and helpless, arose in hopes of finding an avenue of escape. His shoulder jostled against a door.
Duffy found a knob. Again, with Lady Luck at work, Duffy gained what he needed. He was at the very door which Silk Elverton had used to enter the ballroom. The door was still unlocked. Duffy opened it and entered the room beyond.
The place was dark, but Duffy could see the palm tree in the corridor. He could hear voices beyond that spot.
The gang leader decided to investigate. Though his appearance was not wholly unpresentable, he might be able to make a get-away amid an excited throng.
People were talking excitedly. Duffy neared the protecting palm. He could see men’s backs; all were staring down the corridor toward that other end.
Duffy Bagland waited, his eyes glued to the black backs of two men who were attired in long-tailed evening coats. This pair appeared to be the members of a small group, but they had drawn away from their fellows.
“Stay up here,” a low voice was saying. “You’ve got the alibi. Don’t worry. Let them take it.”
The words apparently came from the taller man of the pair. Duffy could see lips moving as a bluff face showed its profile. He did not catch the answer which the other gave. The big man spoke again.
“Only one who knows you, eh?” he questioned his companion. “Do you think he would give you away?”
“He might” — Duffy Bagland could barely catch the reply.
“Well,” laughed the big man reassuringly, “maybe he’ll get his. Let’s hope he does. If he’s out of it, you won’t have to worry.”
The big man turned toward the palm tree. Duffy Bagland was about to slide away when the slighter man turned also. A snarl stopped upon Duffy Bagland’s lips as he saw the face.
The man whose back had been completely turned was Silk Elverton!
THE big man — Foulkrod Kendall — spied Duffy Bagland through the latter’s inadvertence. An excited look came upon Kendall’s bluff countenance. Silk Elverton swung to find himself face to face with Bagland.
The gang leader was seeing red. Thoughts flashed through his brain in scattered sequence. He heard people clattering at the door through which he had come. Return to the ballroom was blocked. The game was up. But those factors were not the ones which enraged the thwarted man.
The surprise attack — the complete collapse of the thieving scheme — these, Duffy attributed to Silk Elverton. Here was the inside man talking with a stranger. The hope had been expressed that some one would be killed — the only one who knew Silk Elverton — and that one was Duffy Bagland!
The look on Silk Elverton’s face showed consternation. With a fiendish cry, Duffy Bagland leaped forward.
Let them get him now — he would spoil Silk Elverton’s game, too. The smooth worker who posed as an Englishman would be unmasked by the one whom he had foiled!
“You double-crosser!” spat Duffy, as he lunged toward Silk. “I’ll queer your work! I’ll get you — ” His fist shot out for Silk’s chin.
It was Foulkrod Kendall who intervened. The big man struck down the blow; a moment later, he was wrestling with Duffy Bagland.
Kendall’s heavy attack drove the gang leader against the palm tree. The plant went over as the pair staggered toward the room. Duffy wrested free; with gangster skill, he drove a hard punch to Kendall’s jaw. The big millionaire staggered backward.
Silk Elverton had leaned against the wall. His pose was one that might have betokened cowardice. But with that action, the smooth crook slipped his hand to his pocket. His stub-nosed revolver came out in his hand.
Hidden from those who were coming up the corridor, the weapon was in readiness as Duffy Bagland sprang forward to deliver another blow to Foulkrod Kendall.
Silk pressed the trigger. The shot burst forth. The bullet was well aimed. Duffy Bagland twisted and caught himself as he staggered. Foulkrod Kendall, too excited to realize that a shot had been fired, launched himself against the gang leader, and shoved him back into the darkened room.
Silk Elverton followed rapidly, his gun held close in front of him. Kendall was swinging a hard punch at Duffy Bagland. The gang leader never received it. His body collapsed at the millionaire’s feet. The revolver clattered there as Silk, within cover of the room, gave it a deft toss.
FOULKROD KENDALL, leaning his bulk over Duffy Bagland’s form, gained a sudden horror as he saw the sickly look upon the dying gang leader’s face. He saw chewing lips, flecked with blood. His eyes spied the revolver, away from Duffy’s grasp.