Part 3 (1/2)

IN an instant, The Shadow had the answer. The depth of the wall-hole told the story. Shark had not removed the jewels from the box. He had put the swag here intact. The back of this wall s.p.a.ce was another panel, that could be opened from a room in the house next door.

This third floor apartment was not a hide-out. It was a special place that Shark Meglo visited after every robbery, long enough to store away his swag. The hole in the wall was good enough to baffle searchers for the short time it was needed.

All the while that Shark had been coming to this transfer spot, the cunning master-crook had been waiting in the house next door. Stolen gems were off on another round of adventure. In the hands of their scheming owner, they would be peddled to some new dupe like Silsam and the victims who had preceded him. Once sold for a huge sum of cash, they would repose in the custody of some new millionaire, slated for death when Shark Meglo appeared.

So far as the swag was concerned, The Shadow's efforts had been nullified, The Shadow knew also that the master criminal had by this time cleared away from the house next door. The hand of that hidden crime chief had probably stretched for the ebony box as soon as Shark had placed it in the connecting hole.

Carefully, The Shadow lowered the panel that he had opened. His thoughts were concentrated upon Shark Meglo. Since this place was the transfer spot, Shark would have no reason to remain, unless he had been ordered to wait until his leader had safely removed the gems.

a.s.suming that to be the case, Shark should either have stayed on guard in the living room, or kept watch from the bedroom.

Instead, Shark had deliberately bolted the door of the inner room. That not only prevented him from keeping guard; it put him in a room that had all the semblance of a trap. The situation did not fit.

The Shadow began to see other purposes in Shark's barricade. That was why The Shadow promptly noted something that happened at the closing wall panel.

The coiled loop of a small wire poked into view. It went out of sight beyond the panel just as The Shadow finally shut the hiding place That wire was connected with the house wall. Shark could easily have fixed it so that it would send a signal if any one tampered with the panel.

His torch extinguished, The Shadow listened. He heard sounds that he had not noticed while stooped at the panel. Creeping noises, not from Shark's inner room, but from the hallway. A key was sc.r.a.ping slightly in the lock.

With a quick sweep, The Shadow came back from the wall, out toward the center of the room. As he whirled, the door from the hall rammed inward. Flashlights beamed from the outer gloom. Armed foemen were upon the threshold. They were members of Shark's cover-up crew, returned here to do battle.

The Shadow's trail was broken. Shark's flight had meant more than the delivery of swag to the master-crook whom the killer served. Shark had changed the trail into a trap for The Shadow!

CHAPTER VI. SNARES REVERSED.

THE SHADOW'S guns spoke the instant that the lights glared. In his twist from the wall, the cloaked fighter had unlimbered a brace of automatics. Flashlights flew from hands as gunmen scattered for the shelter of the hall.

One wounded thug sprawled through the doorway, just as darkness again covered the scene. The Shadow had clipped the fellow's gun arm. Forgetting the wounded attacker, The Shadow spurted new shots toward the group in the hall, while they returned hasty slugs.

There was a momentary lull; during it, The Shadow started forward. He was taking bold tactics, but the only sort that would serve him. He intended to spring up from among his foemen; to cleave a path to the stairway before they could recover from their startlement.

One crook blocked that maneuver. He was the rogue that The Shadow had clipped. Through adesperate move, that wounded thug was to put The Shadow in a plight from which few fighters could ever have escaped.

Just as The Shadow neared the doorway, the room lights came on. With his left hand, the wounded man had found the light switch. Sinking down to the floor, he snarled an oath as he saw The Shadow. The crook's pained lips widened into a toothy grin.

Shouts came from the hall as four torpedoes aimed their revolvers. Almost to the doorway, The Shadow was too exposed to drop the four before they fired damaging shots. He made one of those remarkable s.h.i.+fts that had so often maddened hordes from gangdom.

With a quick spin, The Shadow was back in the room, away from the door, whirling toward the window.

When guns barked, he was gone from range.

In those split seconds, The Shadow remembered the triumphant leer that he had seen upon the face of the wounded thug. Three ceiling lights were glowing in the low-roofed room, showing The Shadow's cloaked form plainly, even though he had spun to a safe angle. Face to the window, The Shadow saw something else.

His figure had blocked the glow of the ceiling lights. His own silhouette was etched in blackness against the yellowish window shade.

One glimpse of that outline told The Shadow why the thug had grinned. An instant later, The Shadow had finished his whirl; he was turned toward the door, with his shoulders pressing the window shade behind him.

In that moment, The Shadow altered his plan. Instead of opening prompt fire toward the outer doorway, he plunged full length upon the floor.

The wounded crook was out in the hallway; his pals were gone from view. None had waited to see The Shadow's final move. They thought that he was still backed against the window. Then came the result that crooks awaited.

A terrific crackle shattered the window, ripping the shade into shreds. From outside came the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun as it rattled bullets into the lighted room. Those slugs slammed the wall of the hallway, past the opened door.

The Shadow had divined the double trap. He had made his drop just in time. The crooks attacking from the hallway had been sent there to reveal The Shadow in the glow of lights. Machine-gunners, waiting beneath the parapet atop the old garage, were waiting for the telltale blackness against the window shade.

THE drilling barrage ceased. Perhaps the outside crew thought they had finished The Shadow; possibly they were in doubt. The latter case was so likely that The Shadow could not afford to rise above the level of the sill. Propped on both elbows, he began to worm his way forward toward the hallway.

A lookout poked his head into view, dodged away to report that The Shadow was alive and on the move. The gunmen in the hall were none too sure of their own security. They knew, though, that The Shadow could not afford a hasty drive. They feared that he might eventually reach the light switch, still below the level of the outside machine gun. They wanted to offset that.

The crooks had the method. Their first approach had been cautious; but with time to spare, they could make all the noise they wanted. The Shadow heard a hoa.r.s.e call from the hallway. Something thumped up the stairs. s.h.i.+fting slightly to his right, The Shadow craned his neck.

He saw the weapon that the attackers were about to a.s.semble. It was a sub-machine gun, with a s.h.i.+eld.

Given a few minutes longer, they would shove that death device into the doorway. It would completely fix The Shadow. His automatics could not riddle the s.h.i.+eld. If he stayed close to the floor, the hallway gun would drill him.

Contrarily, if The Shadow made a dash to capture the new weapon, he would have no time to spike it.

Again, men from the garage roof would have a target. They would fell The Shadow through the open window.

The extent of The Shadow's future life seemed a matter of minutes. In that short interval, however, The Shadow saw a chance for exit; one that his adversaries had forgotten, because they thought it completely blocked.

That route was the door to the little room where Shark Meglo had gone. Bolted from the other side, the stout barrier looked impenetrable. With a head tilt, The Shadow eyed it. He edged toward that door; then waited the right moment.

Sc.r.a.ping of steel told that foemen were shoving the submachine gun toward the doorway. A lookout took another peek and dived away. The Shadow gave no further hesitation. With a quick spring, he came to his feet, took a bound forward and side-stepped toward Shark's door.

The move was too swift for the outside crew. When they started a new rattle of their machine gun, The Shadow was out of line. The bullets from the garage came zipping straight through the lighted room and pummeled the hallway wall. The gunmen in the hall yanked back their submachine gun and laid low.

Even when the outside gun ended its brief drill, the men in the hall still waited. They wanted to make sure that the barrage would not resume. The Shadow had depended on that interval. He knew that he would need a few seconds at Shark's door.

THE SHADOW arrived at that barrier with one hand raised high. In his fist, he held an automatic by the muzzle. Using the big gun as a bludgeon, he sledged a t.i.tanic blow for the panel of the door.

No woodwork could have stopped that slash. The panes splintered. The Shadow's arm went through.

As The Shadow's hand stopped short, it gave a slight upward toss. The automatic flipped in his fist; he caught it by the handle. His hand swinging sideward, The Shadow pumped bullets into the room. Those were for Shark, if he happened to still be there.

His last shot given, The Shadow dropped the automatic. His fingers found the bolt and yanked it. His other hand had cloaked his second gun; free, that hand turned the k.n.o.b.

Crooks from the hall had heard the crash, with the ensuing gunfire. As they sprang into the lighted room, they saw The Shadow wheel into the darkness of the little room beyond. The door slammed as they opened fire.

When they halted, momentarily, a fist poked through the broken door and stabbed shots back at them.

One thug toppled. The others dived for the hall.

The inner room was empty. The Shadow learned that as he glanced about. The slight shaft of light through the broken door gave him all the glow he needed. Shark Meglo had been too wise to keep himself boxed. The ceiling showed the route that Shark had taken - a trapdoor just above an old metalbed.