Crooks Go Straight

CHAPTER XXIII. LUCKY IS LUCKY

EVEN as The Shadow loomed vengeful from his improvised turret, the burst of an automatic came from the door of the coal bin. Cliff Marsland, rolling free from the mobster who had slugged him, had taken aim in return.

The mobster was leveling his revolver as Cliff fired. The Shadow’s agent beat him to the shot. Then, coming up, Cliff aimed for Hawkeye’s assailant. This fellow, swinging, was quicker than Cliff. The Shadow’s agent would have lost this second combat but for an interruption.

Roars from The Shadow’s automatics. The first bullets from those guns were aimed toward Cliff’s new assailant. The gorilla sprawled, while others — Lucky among them — went diving through the entrance of the coal bin.

Mobsters, as they dived, sought spots from which to return The Shadow’s fire. Booms from the automatics launched clipping bullets that sent two gorillas sprawling. Then, as The Shadow picked his targets, Cliff and Hawkeye threw him their aid.

With a quick swing of his arm, Cliff rammed his automatic down on the gun hand of an aiming crook.

Hawkeye dived for Lucky Ortz and grappled with the leader of the band. The odds were ended.

Lucky and his mob totaled ten. The number had been reduced to eight when Lucky had sent two gorillas to get Harry Vincent. Cliff and Hawkeye, by their desertion, had dropped the total to six.

Cliff had spilled one; The Shadow had dropped one, then two. Four from six left only Lucky and a single gorilla. And Cliff, attacking the lone mobsman, had disarmed the fellow while The Shadow was aiming to meet the gorilla’s revolver.

Only Lucky remained. He was struggling toward the stairway, while Hawkeye battled him savagely. A tough fighter, Lucky was dragging the little man along. Cliff aimed; but he hesitated, afraid of hitting Hawkeye.

Then The Shadow came vaulting from the upper box. He landed on the heap of coal and sprang to the door of the bin, to join with Cliff. The Shadow arrived just as Lucky and Hawkeye went struggling out of sight, up the stairs.

A figure came tumbling, crashing downward. At the same moment, footsteps pounded upward. The door slammed at the head of the stairs. Cliff leaped forward to find Hawkeye coming to his feet at the bottom of the steps. The little man grinned sourly.

Lucky had pitched him loose. Half groggy from his tumble, Hawkeye nearly collapsed as Cliff caught him.

Then came a hissed command as The Shadow swished by and took to the steps in pursuit of Lucky.

Helping Hawkeye along with him, Cliff followed The Shadow up to the ground floor.

WHEN Cliff and Hawkeye arrived in the big hall, they found that Lucky had escaped. The Shadow was standing there; toward him was coming a man from the floor above. It was Harry Vincent, an automatic in his right hand.

“They started into the filing room,” reported Harry. “Only two of them, so I opened fire from the anteroom of Delhugh’s study. Both wounded. Here are their guns.”

The Shadow’s laugh whispered through the hall. Understanding came to Cliff Marsland. Somehow — Cliff was recalling Lucky’s statements to the mob — The Shadow had been captured and stowed in that lower box.

Harry must have made a search. In so doing, he had found and released The Shadow. Knowing that mobsters would be coming for their kill, The Shadow had adopted the ruse of entering the upper box, garbed with cloak and hat from his briefcase, ready with the automatics that Delhugh had not removed.

Harry, in turn, had been waiting to turn the game on others. He had used a lurking spot upstairs to spring an ambush on crooks who might be dispatched to get him. The Shadow had planned well. He had counted on Cliff and Hawkeye being with the crew that came here.

Lucky had escaped through the rear of the mansion. Cliff wondered why The Shadow had not followed him. The explanation came. As Cliff and Harry watched, the cloaked form began to sway. Harry caught The Shadow and supported him.

Still jarred by his two-story fall from Delhugh’s study anteroom, The Shadow had fought on nerve alone.

The fray ended, his strength was slipping from the strain of combat.

Gloved fingers went beneath the cloak. The Shadow brought forth a phial that was half filled with a purplish liquid.

He raised the little bottle to the lips that were just above the cloak collar. He finished the draught; the effect was immediate. The Shadow had used half of this potent liquid before the fray. He was drinking the rest now that he might continue. His tall form steadied.

Whistles were sounding from the front street. Some one in the neighborhood must have reported the sounds of gun fray.

The Shadow motioned to his agents. They followed him out through the rear of the house.

The fresh air aided in reviving The Shadow. As for Hawkeye, he had already recovered from his tumble down the stairs. He was as quick as Cliff and Harry as they made their way toward the rear street.

The Shadow paused in darkness. Cliff came up beside him. He caught The Shadow’s low-toned order.

The Shadow wanted quick details regarding the moves of crooks.

More whistles from the street in front of the mansion. A siren whined from an avenue. Yet The Shadow waited while he heard Cliff’s brief report. His laugh was sinister and whispered when he heard mention of Beak Latzo’s destination.

Cliff spoke of the cars that the mobsters had left a block away. The Shadow turned and led a quick course in that direction. They found a sedan and a touring car.

The Shadow entered the first machine. Cliff, beside the wheel, responded to the instructions that he heard.

The sedan shot away. Harry and Hawkeye were in the touring car, Harry at the wheel Cliff leaped aboard and repeated The Shadow’s orders while Harry nodded. The second car moved off, following The Shadow’s course away from the zone that would soon be in charge of the police.

IN another car — one that had pulled away before The Shadow had arrived — two men were growling in conversation, as they headed toward the East Side. The one at the wheel was Lucky Ortz; his companion was the mobster whom Cliff had disarmed in the cellar.

“So Marsland socked you, eh?” quizzed Lucky. “Cracked your wrist, eh, Pokey?”

“Yeah,” returned the gorilla. “Just as I had a bead on The Shadow.”

“Funny The Shadow didn’t plug you.”

“He didn’t wait. He hopped from that big box when he saw me flop to the floor. He was after you.”

“Why didn’t you grab your gat and let him have it?”

“Huh! Why didn’t you stick aroun’ an’ battle with him? Besides that, me fingers was all limp. I couldn’t do nothin’ the way I was. I scrammed for a window.”

“And yanked it open.”

“Yeah, with me left mitt. They was goin’ upstairs then; The Shadow an’ them other guys. I beat it for the buggies.”

“You were lucky to get here before I started.”

“Pokey” snorted.

“Me lucky?” he quizzed. “Say — you’re the lucky gazebo. They don’t call you ‘Lucky’ for nothin’. You was lucky tonight, Lucky.”

Lucky laughed. His tone was ugly.

“Maybe I was,” he declared. “And maybe it was The Shadow that was lucky. That’s what we’re going out to find.”

“You’re going to join up with Beak?”

Pokey’s tone was incredulous. It brought a fierce growl from Lucky.

“That’s where I’m going,” returned the lieutenant. “I ain’t calling no quits — and you ain’t neither.”

“I’m with you, Lucky. Seein’ as me mitt is better. I can move these talons now. All I need’s another rod. I didn’t grab up that one I had—”

“You’ll get another gat.” Lucky was emphatic. “And you won’t be the only torpedo that I’m taking with me. Beak’s got the first bundle of swag by now. It ain’t far in from where he went on Long Island.”

“You mean there’ll be guys back at the garage?” quizzed Pokey. “The ones Beak’s sendin’ in?”

“Yeah. They’ll be there soon,” returned Lucky. “And there’ll be more with ‘em. I’m going where I can get a crew in a hurry.”

Lucky Ortz drove on in silence. His face was fierce and venomous. For Lucky, confident that his luck would hold, had concentrated his thoughts to a single goal. Vengeance against The Shadow.