Part 6 (1/2)

It gradually dawned on her that she hadn't bothered to look at her watch; when she did, she found that it was still early. She began to feel quite foolish at coming home so soon.

Andy had said something about looking up some friends in town. They were all in Yvonne's set, and were probably having a party somewhere. Andy had mentioned it before his visit to the waterfront; probably he would remember the invitation, if reminded.

Yvonne decided to make a call to Andy's hotel, so she slipped from bed and went to the telephone in the hall.

Cautiously, she called Andy's hotel, but found he wasn't there. She asked if he happened to be in Hedwin's room, and learned that the professor had left word that he wasn't to be disturbed.

Yvonne was debating whether to get dressed and go out, or to return to bed and try to sleep, when her uncle's door opened on the other side of the hall.

Glaring at his nightgowned niece, Carland demanded to know whom she had called. Very sweetly, Yvonne replied that she had heard the telephone bell ring, but that no one was on the wire when she answered.

”Perhaps it was Cranston!” exclaimed Carland. Then, shaking his head: ”No; he only had my old address.

Bah! What a fool I was to move to this place!”

”I like Frenchtown,” replied Yvonne demurely. ”It has become quite fas.h.i.+onable to live here, uncle.”

”Not when people know you're broke,” snapped Carland. ”Which I wouldn't be, if I hadn't sunk so much money into that museum. The nerve of that crowd, expecting me to fork over a hundred thousand more after my oil concessions were lost. By the way” - his eyes went sharp - ”who brought you home, Yvonne?”

”Your friend, Mr. Brendle,” the girl replied. ”And if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed and get some sleep.”

Again in bed, more wide awake than ever, Yvonne tried to forget the distant music that floated into the courtyard on which the second-story apartment opened. Her system was to concentrate on closer sounds, and she began to hear them, but not in a pleasant fas.h.i.+on.

There were creaks in the hall, strange whispers that Yvonne could not define. Sometimes her uncle pacedthe hall, muttering to himself, but these sounds were less noticeable. So stealthy, in fact, that Yvonne would not have heard them if her ears had not been more than usually alert.

They were sounds that she finally cla.s.sed as imaginary, but she still wanted to satisfy her mind about them. She felt that by merely opening the door of the bedroom and glancing into the hall, she could put her worries at rest.

Opening the door, Yvonne looked toward the end of the hall, where a window opened on a little balcony. The window had ornamental bars, and as Yvonne gazed she saw two objects that looked like snake heads come up to the grille. They made a twisting motion, then were gone, so suddenly that Yvonne believed she had imagined it.

She was scared, none the less, and when she stood behind the door that she had automatically closed, she listened intently for further sounds. None came, and the silence terrified her.

She opened the door again; seeing the window vacant, she stole toward it. When she arrived there she gave a horrified gasp.

The things that she had seen were hands, powerful ones. Though they had gone, they had left the evidence of their work. The window bars were lying on the balcony, twisted into pretzel shape. Any hands that could so silently have made a hash of wrought iron must be possessed of terrific strength.

TURNING about, Yvonne saw that her uncle's door was ajar, a dim light coming from it. She felt he ought to know what had happened; that he might be able to do something about it. Still, it wasn't wise to call him; judgment told her to approach his room cautiously.

Not having bothered to put on slippers, Yvonne was able to reach the door very silently. But the moment that she peered through the opening, a total horror froze her.

She saw the same darkish hands that she had viewed before, but this time they were dealing with an object more pliable than iron bars. Those hands were tight-clenched upon a human neck, bringing a face into the light.

Whatever horror Yvonne felt was written tenfold upon the features above those gripping hands. The face belonged to James Carland; it was petrified in death.

The killer's pressure had seemingly bulged Carland's eyes and forced his tongue to its full extension. As Yvonne swayed, the movement enabled her to see the murderer's coppery face, as well as his tawny hands. It was a stony face, yet its very mold seemed one of venom. The man was relis.h.i.+ng his evil handiwork as only a savage could.

Memories of her museum visit swept through Yvonne's brain. This man was an Aztec, a member of the Xitli cult that Professor Hedwin had likened to the thugs of India. He was a strangler, whose weapons were his fingers; a fiend inhuman, who served an ancient fire G.o.d. Those thoughts came almost in a single flash, and Yvonne's mind was too crowded to think of anything else.

Her scream therefore was involuntary, and louder than any she would have normally given. It must have carried through the outer courtyard and off into the alleyways beyond. Her own vocal effort even startled Yvonne from her lethargy before the Aztec could spring about.

The girl was das.h.i.+ng frantically along the hallway while the killer was still reaching for the stone-headed knife that he wore in his belt. Yvonne's one hope was to reach the balcony before she could be overtaken. She managed it so well that she was scrambling through the window before her pursuer reached the hall.

But on the balcony she encountered a new menace.

A figure came over the rail, another of the squatly Aztecs, his hatchet already in his hand. Sight of the frail, cringing girl slowed the would-be killer, but only because of his contempt. He was choosing the side of Yvonne's neck, above her shuddering shoulder, as a target for his weapon. The girl's eyes went shut, her lips were gaspless, as she saw the hatchet begin its swinging curve.

The roar that came from the courtyard was indefinable to Yvonne. It was the burst of a gun, accompanied by echoes from the walls about. To Yvonne it sounded as a blast of doom; which it was, but not for her. A whir of air went by her cheek; a lunging body struck the balcony rail beside her.

Opening her eyes, Yvonne saw the floundering Aztec; as she turned her head, she struck against the stone ax, buried deep in the window frame. Then, from the courtyard, she heard a strange laugh that awoke new quivers from the surrounding walls. Yvonne saw her rescuer - a marksman cloaked in black who held a smoking automatic.

Guided by Yvonne's first shriek, The Shadow had arrived in time to turn the course of the Aztec's ax by planting a bullet between the savage's shoulders.

Danger wasn't past. Yvonne remembered the killer inside the apartment. Coming up to the balcony rail, she beckoned frantically to The Shadow. At the same time she saw a ladder extending up from the courtyard, the route that the Aztecs had used for the invasion.

The Shadow was reaching the ladder with rapid strides, but Yvonne feared that he could not possibly arrive in time.

With both hands, the girl grabbed the hatchet in the window frame and tried to tug it free. It came loose and she sprawled backward, half across the rail. She was facing the window, and there she saw her uncle's murderer.

The Aztec saw Yvonne, too, and seemed to gloat at her helpless plight. Off balance, her arms flung apart, Yvonne was so posed that the killer had her heart as a target for his ax.

Again the downward swing of a stone hatchet was beaten by the upward stab of a gun. The Shadow had actually leaped half up the ladder, to thrust the point of his gun between the iron posts below the balcony rail.

The impact of the bullet from his .45 jolted the st.u.r.dy Aztec, sending the tawny knife-hand high. Again a stone weapon whirled past Yvonne, this time skimming just above her upturned face.

The Shadow was across the rail. Plucking Yvonne from her resting place, he swept her through the window, where she landed, breathless, upon the hallway floor. The stone ax was gone from her hand; she had dropped it over the balcony rail into the courtyard.

She didn't need a weapon while The Shadow was at hand. Still, she could not understand why this black-clad fighter had flung her to safety when the danger was all over.

Then Yvonne saw that danger was not ended.

THE crippled Aztecs were on their feet, both clutching at the cloaked foe who had downed them. A single bullet couldn't finish those stony fighters unless planted in their hearts. Their hatchets gone, they were battling The Shadow barehanded, but their wounds had given them a frenzied power. The Shadow's gun swings couldn't dent the thick skulls of the stony men, nor was he able to work his muzzle past their warding hands. Hopelessly, Yvonne saw them bend The Shadow half across the rail and thought that no power could save him.

He sagged, then came up with a whip action that quivered his entire form. The snap, to Yvonne's amazement, catapulted one Aztec over the rail. Twisting away from the other's lunge, The Shadow made a cross swing with his gun, hooking the killer underneath the chin.

This leverage sent the Aztec backward, and The Shadow's other arm did the rest. Sweeping up, it lifted the Aztec's legs and tilted the wounded fighter over the rail, where he plunged to join his companion. It was a timely disposal of a troublesome foe, for The Shadow had more by that time.

A third member of the murderous tribe was coming over the rail to the balcony, and Yvonne saw a fourth slanted face on the ladder below. These fighters had their axes, which made The Shadow's chances look slim until he gave them battle. Then he proved that the swing of a stone ax was more to his liking than the clutch of tawny hands.

The Shadow sledged one knife hand with his gun and stabbed the other with a bullet. Borne toward the rail by the man on the balcony, he twisted as he met the one from the ladder, letting one Aztec bear the brunt of the other's drive.

Each was grabbing, one-handed, for The Shadow, and he was wrenching from their combined grasp in a style that this time indicated easy victory.

The fault lay with the balcony rail. It couldn't stand the strain of triple weight. It broke, and the fighters fell from Yvonne's sight, carrying the ladder with them. Like the enemies that he had conquered, The Shadow had gone to the stone courtyard a dozen feet below!

On the balcony again, Yvonne saw The Shadow. He was on his feet, miraculously intact, but he was reeling as he stabbed wild shots, not at four savages, but more than twice that number.

Fortunately, the servers of Xitli had tasted enough of The Shadow's bullets, and supposed that his shots were taking effect. Moreover, they had their crippled companions to look after.