“All right,” growled Speedy. “Move ahead. Keep together until we reach the house.”
The figures moved across the lawn. The entire gang — a dozen ex-gorillas — was on its way to the objective. The zero hour of crime was approaching.
These mobsters, however, were not the only ones who took that path.
After the crew had all departed, a pair of stealthy men crept from among the bushes. A muffled conversation took place. The voices told the identity of these two who had watched the invaders move to action. The watchers were Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland. As if by signal, The Shadow’s agents took up the trail of Mallet’s gang.
Dulled headlights were coming up the drive to Montgard; Jerome was returning in his wheezy roadster. The groundskeeper had left the Great Danes in the stable, in conformity with his usual practice.
Alighting from his car, Jerome approached the house and emitted the odd, half-witted cry that served as his signal. The motor of the roadster was still running. Jerome was halfway between the car and the front door.
A short interval. Then came the opening of the door. Quarley was responding to Jerome’s call. The dull light from the turret revealed the two figures at the doorway.
INSTANTLY, a pair of figures arose in the darkness at the front of the house. Aiming at an angle past the parked roadster, two of Mallet Haverly’s gorillas were about to shoot down the helpless men who stood between them and the entrance to Montgard.
The crooks would have been unseen in the darkness but for another event that occurred with starting unexpectedness. The light from a powerful electric torch appeared suddenly from the trees in front of the house. Its rays, focused with precision, revealed the rising mobsters.
Instinctively, the gorillas swung to meet this unexpected danger. With quick fingers on revolver triggers, they aimed for the blazing light. Their shots never came. From close behind the light, a pair of automatics spurted flame. The Shadow had opened fire on the murderous crooks.
Both gorillas toppled. Their guns dropped to the ground as they went sprawling. Jerome wheeled at the door; he yanked a revolver from one pocket and a flashlight from the other. Quarley produced a revolver.
Logically, the two men should have sprung to safety, closing the door behind them. The Shadow had not counted on their brave response. Revolver shots broke from other spots about the house as new members of Mallet’s crew sought to amend the failure of their felled pals.
Out went The Shadow’s light. Automatics barked as the master fighter, weaving his way among the trees aimed for the spots where revolver spurts betrayed the presence of attacking mobsmen.
Cries came from the darkness. The Shadow’s marksmanship was finding living flesh. Futile shots were returned in his direction. Other bullets, aimed toward the house, were chipping stone from about the doorway of the turret.
Jerome and Quarley were firing wildly. Suddenly Jerome gave forth a cry and staggered. The groundskeeper was hit. The Shadow’s response was a shot toward the mobster who had felled Jerome. A cry came from the dark.
Jerome, his right hand clutching left shoulder, made a frantic dash to the roadster. Leaping into the car, he drove frantically along the driveway, whirling the wheel one-handed. Wild shots followed; they did not manage to stop the get-away.
Quarley, realizing the full danger, leaped back into the turret and slammed the big door. The old servant had received a flesh wound. His action was a timely one.
For a moment, there was silence after echoing shots. Mobsters were blundering away to cover. The howling of hounds arose from the kennels. Then came a new burst of gunfire.
Jarvis Raleigh had extinguished the light in his bedroom. He was on the upstairs balcony, aiming with a rifle at hidden enemies in the dark.
ANSWERING shots came from the side of the house, in front of the veranda. The mobsters had headed in that direction. Like a flash, The Shadow’s light came on. It revealed a cluster of mobsmen. An automatic spoke with tongues of flame.
Gangsters scattered. Only a few wild bullets had been dispatched toward Jarvis Raleigh. The master of Montgard had made himself a target. But for The Shadow, he would have been a simple mark. The gorillas, however, were spreading with their leaders, seeking the shelter beyond the house.
Then came another unexpected turn. The door of the veranda opened. Two men appeared from the library: Stokes Corvin and Sidney Richland. A shout was the response. Mallet Haverly was pointing this new opening to his minions.
The Shadow’s torch swept the lawn. Again the automatic barked. The Shadow had moved toward the side of the house; again he was here as the protector. Stokes Corvin leaped back to safety. He grabbed Sidney Richland and dragged the other with him.
As they disappeared, Mallet Haverly fired. From behind a tree trunk, the mobleader was making the open door his target. He was here to prevent its closing until his minions could gain the parapet of the veranda.
Speedy Tyron had reached the security of a stone well that projected near a clump of bushes, a hundred feet from the house. He was firing toward the light that The Shadow was sweeping across the lawn. A bullet whizzed past the gloved hand. The Shadow clicked out the light.
Then came the tones of the weird laugh that all mobsmen dreaded. In answer to this challenge, The Shadow had chosen full darkness. The tones of his eerie mirth brought a momentary lull.
No one could spot The Shadow. Somewhere in the blackness of the night, The Shadow was moving as a solitary menace. Mallet Haverly, secure behind the thick tree trunk, broke the spell with a fierce snarl. Once again, the mobleader opened internment fire upon the door to the library.
Encouraged, the dwindled crew of mobsters clambered up the rear wall of the veranda. Corvin and Richland had fled from the library. The way was open to enter Montgard. Behind the parapet, these minions knew that they would be safe to gain the open door.
SO they reasoned; but without knowledge of their foe. As the first of the mobsmen leaped over the stone rail; he heard a sinister laugh that came from a spot no more than twenty feet away. A torch blazed. An automatic barked from the hand of the crouching being who held the light.
The Shadow, too, had gained the parapet from the front. On the veranda, he was here to meet the mobsmen the moment they arrived.
The first crook tried to fire. The Shadow’s shot preceded him. With a scream, the gorilla toppled backward from the parapet of the veranda. Another shot; the second climber toppled and fell sprawling to the ground below.
Out went the light. The Shadow leaped for the rear rail. His shots sped through the dark, aimed for scattering mobsmen. Defiantly, Mallet and Speedy aimed for the rail behind which The Shadow crouched. Mallet was behind his tree; Speedy had edged to another vantage point behind the well.
Again the laugh. Its eerie tones were commanding. They were answered. From across the lawn came shots from new guns. The Shadow’s agents, joining the fray, were aiming for the nests which Mallet and Speedy had chosen.
A bullet zimmed against the tree trunk. Another chiseled stonework from the well. Caught by an enfilading fire, Mallet and Speedy left their posts. Trusting to darkness, the chief and his lieutenant dashed for the trees that skirted the far side of the lawn.
Harry and Cliff delivered a final volley toward the stables, where the few remaining mobsters had fled for refuge, seeking to put the rear corner of the house between themselves and The Shadow’s fire. Then came the final silence that marked the end of the swift fray.
The Shadow’s laugh resounded with a peal of triumph. Stalking to the open door of the deserted library, The Shadow swung the barrier shut. Gliding to the parapet, the master fighter dropped to the darkness of the ground.