Part 8 (1/2)

They had circled the house, knowing that a rear attack was the one method of entering The Shadow's improvised redan. As The Shadow swung, a revolver barked from the distant end of the porch. A bullet singed the flowing side of The Shadow's cloak.

Luke Gonrey was the mobster who had fired that shot. He had come up the parapet, boosted there by Spud Claxter. The gorilla had taken quick aim, just as The Shadow whirled. Had The Shadow merely spun about, Luke might have dropped him. But The Shadow, ever alert, had swung toward the front parapet as he turned.

Before Luke could deliver a second bullet, The Shadow pressed the trigger of an automatic. His aim was hastier than Luke's; it was also better. The slug clipped the gorilla's shoulder and sent Luke groaning from the parapet, into the arms of Spud Claxter.

The Shadow's laugh resounded. Spud did not wait for more. Shoving Luke to his feet, the mobleader started for the hedge, dragging his henchman with him. Meanwhile, The Shadow was weaving swiftly along the porch, firing shots at the blackness above the parapet, to stop any new attackers.

The Shadow had exhausted one brace of automatics. He had drawn a second set and still had slugs remaining. As he neared the end of the porch, he dropped to the new shelter that the wall afforded; then suddenly arose and peered into the darkness below. He sensed that the last attackers had fled. Then, asproof of The Shadow's belief came the roar of starting motors from beyond the hedge.

The Shadow fired through the darkness. Had the path been clear, he might have stopped the final flight.

A cl.u.s.ter of big trees stood between this end of the porch and the hedge. Bullets lodged in ma.s.sive trunks; those that sped clear were not sufficient to halt the cars in which Spud and others were escaping.

The Shadow knew that the raiders were beyond reach; the men with the swag had probably gained a car parked in the road below the house. Staring though the darkness, The Shadow saw lights glaring from a house three hundred yards away. He knew that the gunfire had caused an alarm. The police would soon be here.

The Shadow tried the front door of the house. He found it open. He crossed a gloomy hall and ascended a flight of stairs. He found an open door; a light from an inner room beyond it. The Shadow entered.

Close by the inner door, he stumbled across the body of a servant. The man was rigid.

Peering into the inner room, The Shadow saw four other figures. One was that of a second servant, sprawled upon the floor. The man held a gun. There was a desk in the center of the room; there The Shadow observed the other three.

One was a man some sixty years of age. He was seated behind a mahogany desk. His hands were resting upon the woodwork. His dignified face, embellished with a white mustache, was straight toward a younger man who sat opposite. This fellow, too, had been caught in the midst of conversation.

The third man was at the side of the table. He was middle-aged, with a thick-set, hard-boiled countenance. His position was the most unusual of all. The man had half risen from his chair. He was leaning heavily upon the desk, his weight supported by his left hand.

The man's right hand was just above his pocket. It clutched the b.u.t.t of a gun; The Shadow could see the glimmer of the half-drawn revolver. Like the others, this man was stiffened in the stupor of the death sleep.

THE SHADOW did not enter the room. His keen eyes could see tiny drops of moisture upon the surface of the mahogany desk. These were rapidly evaporating. They were the last traces of the condensed gas that had produced this strange scene.

There was still a chance that fumes remained; if so, they would be gone when the final drops had dried.

The Shadow did not need to enter. He looked across the room and saw the closed door of a safe. That told the final story.

The swag had come from this room. The raiders had entered after delivering the knock-out bombs. The Shadow's laugh was soft but grim. He knew the reason for the handkerchiefs that had been upon the faces of the fleeing raiders.

Those had not been necessary so far as the victims were concerned. They had been used to hide something that chance, distant witnesses might otherwise have observed. Beneath the covering of large bandanna handkerchiefs, the successful raiders had worn small gas masks to cover their nostrils.

Goggles, perhaps, in addition, to protect their eyes beneath the handkerchiefs.

Shouts from in front of the house. Police had been summoned by the neighbors. The Shadow took a last glance at the desk in this silent room. The final drops of moisture had dried. The Shadow moved into the outer room, found an unlocked window and emerged. He descended by the heavy ivy on the stone wall.

As he reached the ground, he could hear thumping footsteps pounding up the inner stairway. The arriving rescuers had made straight for the house. They had not yet begun to search the grounds.

Ghostlike, The Shadow moved off through the hedge. His hidden shape followed the side lane. The Shadow had found no need to linger.

The raiders had escaped; the surrounding mobsters had been overpowered. The Shadow had seen the new victims of the death sleep. He had learned the motive of crime - the robbery of that safe in the second story room.

Though he had not frustrated crime, The Shadow had wreaked vengeance upon a horde of mobsters. He had broken up the forces which opposed him. He had forced a change in coming plans; he had made it necessary for Spud Claxter to produce a new crew before further crime would be possible.

But most important of all, The Shadow had verified a fact which he had suspected. The scene of the crime had told him the definite truth. The raiders had been equipped with more than the gas bombs that had been used as Seth Tanning's. They had worn masks that had proven an efficient protection against the fumes that they had loosed.

The crooks had gained the neutralizer that they needed. How? Where? The Shadow knew; and that knowledge inspired the whispered laugh that sounded in the darkness of the little lane. The Shadow was thinking of Harry Vincent's report.

He knew that the false hospital attendant had been a crook. He knew why Skeet Wurrick had visited the blind alley in back of Hoffer's Pharmacy. Crooks had profited through the experiments made by Doctor Seton Lagwood.

A preparation had been stolen; it had served as an effective neutralizer. Men of crime were ready for new endeavor. The law was in ignorance of their methods. But not The Shadow. When crime again rode high, The Shadow would be prepared to meet it with an unexpected thrust.

CHAPTER XII. THE BIG SHOT PLANS.

ONE hour after the fray at the house on Long Island, Spud Claxter arrived at Wolf Barlan's apartment.

Spud's face was glum. When Wolf received him in the lighted living room, he knew at once that disaster had been encountered.

”Well?” snarled the big shot. ”Did you fliv the job? What happened out at Currian's?”

”They got the swag,” returned Spud. ”Skeet and Zug - the two guys with them - knocked out Currian and the others who were in the house. What happened after that was the trouble.”

”Let's hear it,” growled Wolf.

”Well,” reported Spud, ”there was a lucky break to begin with, Skeet must have got the glim before I showed up with the outside crew. Any way, he and the bunch were in before we got there.”

”Skeet got the signal all right,” acknowledged Wolf. ”I told you I had a good guy planted in there. It don't hurt if you know his name now. His part of the job is done. It was Tully Newel, working in Currian's as a servant. He scrammed as soon as he flashed the glim. Gave me a call and hopped a rattler to Buffalo.

Well - that's that. Go on with your story.”

”We covered the house,” related Spud. ”Seen the inside crew come out. Then somebody fires a shot alongside the house. Wings one of the bunch with Skeet. That started us.”

”It ought to have. What did you do? Close in?” ”Yeah. We knew the guy was by the house. We was out to get him, Wolf. Then all of a sudden we hear a laugh. Handed me the s.h.i.+vers, that laugh did. Somebody spots the front porch with a flashlight - and there he was.”

”Who?”

”The Shadow.”

Wolf Barlan had paused to pluck a cigarette from the box on the table. His fingers relaxed when he heard Spud's statement. The cigarette struck the table and bounced to the floor.

”The Shadow!” exclaimed Wolf.

”Big as life,” responded Spud. ”Up on the stone rail of the porch, giving us the ha-ha.”

”And I suppose you dummies took it on the lam, eh?”

”No. That's where we made our big mistake. Those gorillas I picked wouldn't run from n.o.body. They began to open up with their smoke-wagons. The Shadow did a nose dive.”

”Clipped him!”

”That's what they thought” - Spud's tone was rueful - ”until they barged in on that porch. Then the boys got theirs. The Shadow had pulled a stall - that was his trick. Up he comes and gives the outfit the works.”