Part 9 (2/2)
First, the door did not open as he expected. The latch had partly engaged, despite the wadding. Toyne's thump had been a bit too emphatic. The Shadow had a cure for the door's obstinacy.
He knew that a hard shoulder jolt would loosen the trifling catch; but he had to wait a while before he delivered such treatment. He wanted Toyne and Bryland to be down the stairway; otherwise they would hear the door pound open.
That delay produced new trouble.
As The Shadow pressed his shoulder against the door, he heard a sound from the reception room. Whipping about, The Shadow swung to his darkened corner.
He was just too late. An arriving man had seen him.
The fellow was Jarruth, The Shadow's old adversary. Creelon had remembered something that he wanted to tell Toyne. He had sent Jarruth to overtake the secretary.
Others of Creelon's men might have jumped back from The Shadow's view.
Not Jarruth; he had a score to settle. Moreover, the scar-faced jailer remembered The Shadow as a sluggish fighter. That had been due to the has.h.i.+sh treatment;but Jarruth, overproud of his own ability, had underestimated the effect of the drug.
Hauling a new revolver from his pocket, Jarruth came forward with a roar.
He intended to slug The Shadow, if he reached him in time. In a pinch, he could shoot the cloaked intruder.
The Shadow could easily have dropped Jarruth in his tracks; but that would have sounded an alarm too soon. The Shadow's purpose was still to trail Bryland.
He took the best way to accomplish it.
SWINGING suddenly toward Jarruth, The Shadow performed a rapid whirl-about that made the husky gape. Stopping in confusion at sight of The Shadow's drive, Jarruth tried to take aim. The Shadow left him flatfooted.
The Shadow's charge became another dervish spin. Diving away from Jarruth, The Shadow hurtled hard for the heavy door at the pa.s.sage end; hit the barrier squarely with his shoulder.
The door rammed open. As it swung, The Shadow stopped short; flourished an automatic muzzle in Jarruth's direction. The husky dodged clumsily; so badly that The Shadow could easily have clipped him.
Again, however, The Shadow saw no need to fire. He thrust his free hand to the socket of the door latch. His quick fingers tugged out the wadding.
In that move, The Shadow lost a half second; for the wadded bill was tight. When he freed it, Jarruth's awkward dive had ended. The fellow was taking aim again, too late; but he was moving forward.
The Shadow was through the doorway, slamming the barrier shut. Jarruth hit the door like a charging bull, rammed it open before the latch could snap home.
That meant battle for The Shadow.
Turned about, The Shadow caught Jarruth as he came through and swung hard for the fellow's skull. Jarruth's head bobbed luckily; he jammed his revolver muzzle for The Shadow.
With a side sweep, The Shadow hit the gun away, just as Jarruth fired.
The revolver report raised booming echoes down the stairway.
The fighters locked, as Jarruth tried to ram The Shadow down the steps.
The Shadow suddenly gave ground; caught Jarruth with a hard clutch. Together, they went headlong, cras.h.i.+ng down the stairway to the bottom.
The Shadow took a risk in that long plunge; but the odds were definitely in his favor. Jarruth's weight, coupled with the clumsy power of his charge, were factors on which The Shadow counted.
Jarruth took the brunt of the landing at the bottom. His head and shoulders plowed hard against the wall below the steps. The Shadow's fall was broken; nevertheless, he was momentarily jarred as he flattened beneath Jarruth's settling bulk.
THE quick battle had ended in a surprising lull. Two figures lay motionless in the gloom. The only sounds that reached the spot were the strains of the ”Blue Danube Waltz,” supplied by the distant orchestra in the emba.s.syballroom.
The melody was interrupted by a clatter above. Men had reached the top of the stairs. Creelon was there with a squad of fighters. A flashlight beamed downward. It showed Jarruth's form moving upward, as though rising under its own power.
Creelon stepped back, thinking that all was well. A sharp cry sounded from one of his followers. The man, still staring downward, saw Jarruth roll aside.
Gaping incredibly, the fellow spied The Shadow.
The cry was an alarm. Creelon, ready for anything, knew that Jarruth must have met The Shadow. The spy snarled an order. His men sprang forward to deliver death below.
The bars of the ”Blue Danube” were interrupted by the staccato burst of The Shadow's automatic. Tonguing its flame upward, the .45 marked the closest of Creelon's henchman, the man with the light. That attacker sprawled. The flashlight left his hand and clattered down the steps, smas.h.i.+ng its bulb on the way.
There was still light on the stairway, however. The Shadow's guns supplied it.
On his feet, handling a brace of automatics, The Shadow was loosing a direct barrage for the stair top. Only the spurting mouths of his guns were targets; they were the sort that Creelon's huskies did not want. While the master-spy cursed and threatened, his men dived back to join him in the safety of the upper pa.s.sage.
The Shadow had gained the respite that he wanted, to take up Bryland's trail. Success on that mission depended upon how far Bryland had already traveled. It chanced that Bryland was still close at hand, as The Shadow learned immediately.
Another flashlight glimmered from the lower corridor. The gleam was Bryland's. He had stopped his departure. Focusing his light back to the bottom of the stairs, Bryland saw The Shadow and took prompt aim with a revolver.
It was partly Bryland's momentary amazement; partly the confidence that the ex-major gained, that served The Shadow in this crisis. Bryland was first astonished when he saw The Shadow alive; then sure of himself, when he believed that the cloaked battler was trapped.
Bryland's aim was as deliberate as if the ex-major had chosen target practice. He was set to drop The Shadow forever, with one straight shot.
The Shadow never looked toward Bryland. The gleam of the flashlight was all the warning that he needed. Diving as Bryland aimed, The Shadow flattened himself upon the stairway, past its corner. He was choosing the one spot that offered immediate security, thanks to the lull of gunfire from above.
Bryland fired. His shot was too late. Savagely, the NEC thief stabbed further bullets. They clipped the corner, but could not curve past it. An automatic spoke a sudden answer below the level of Bryland's fire. A bullet whistled past the crook's shoulder.
It was Bryland who was becoming the target; not The Shadow. Turning off his flashlight, the crook dived away. He was leaving The Shadow to Creelon and those above.
THE men upstairs realized their opportunity, for they had heard the blasts of Bryland's flank fire. Marksmen sprang to the stairs, aimed downward and fired savagely into the lower darkness. They waited, expecting groans from below.
Instead, they heard the mocking challenge of a trailing, fading laugh.
The Shadow had followed Bryland at the moment the barrage began. The onlyresult that crooks had gained was the death of Jarruth. The stunned man had been riddled by the bullets from the guns of his fellows.
Hard on the trail of Bryland, The Shadow could hear the clatter of pursuers coming down the stairs. Reaching the pa.s.sage that led to the side door, The Shadow doubted that Bryland had taken it. That pa.s.sage was too long.
Preferably, Bryland would have slid through to the main portion of the emba.s.sy, where Toyne awaited him. The Shadow headed in that direction.
The door swung open in front of him. A burst of music came with a loud swell. Ahead, The Shadow was blocked by a trio of attaches who had been summoned by Toyne. Their purpose was to drive The Shadow back, into the hands of Creelon's men.
Pounding with his automatics, The Shadow went through the cl.u.s.ter. He came out by the cloak room, with men clinging to his shoulders. Another batch of legation men piled upon him; clinched his arms and tried to heave him back into the pa.s.sage. Some in evening clothes, others in uniform; all had arrived with spectacular swiftness at Toyne's summons.
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