Crooks Go Straight

CHAPTER XXV. THE SHADOW REVEALS

“EVIDENCE!”

The Shadow’s tone was sibilant in its mockery. The black-cloaked visitant had picked up Delhugh’s final word. Sinister in his contempt, The Shadow’s blazing eyes were upon the papers that Delhugh held.

“False evidence against an innocent man,” proclaimed The Shadow. “Papers brought back to their author. Testimony that proves Steve Zurk’s innocence— not his guilt.”

Joe Cardona had not made a move since The Shadow’s entrance. The ace was standing with his revolver covering Steve, Beak and the mobster. Jack Targon, also armed, was rooted, his own gun pointing nowhere. He had swung; then stopped at sight of The Shadow’s weapons.

“Contact between Zurk and Latzo,” sneered The Shadow. “You needed it, Delhugh, that Beak might serve you in crime. So letters came to Latzo. You are holding one of them.”

A pause. The Shadow’s eyes were toward Steve Zurk. The ex-convict spoke boldly for himself.

“I did not write that letter,” asserted Steve. “If Delhugh sent it, he fixed it up himself. Say” — Steve paused, his eyes on Targon — “did you forge that letter, Jack? That was a specialty of yours, wasn’t it? Working for Delhugh — I get it — with him having samples of my bum scrawl—”

Jack Targon was rigid. He made a slight move with his gun hand; then stopped as he saw The Shadow’s eyes upon him. Delhugh was chewing his lips. The Shadow had seen through the game. But it was Steve who continued talking.

“And Delhugh planting letters,” declared Steve. “There in his study, where I could have found them and got wise to Luftus and Dokeby. Say, Benzig” — he swung toward the secretary — “were you in on this racket, too?”

“No, no,” protested the bespectacled secretary. Honest Benzig was aghast. “I was duped! By Mr. Delhugh! I see now that he must have opened my portfolio and disturbed letters so that I would suspect you.”

“Lies,” snarled Delhugh, defiantly. “These finger prints are Zurk’s — on this legal form from Dokeby’s safe—”

“Prove that it came from Dokeby’s safe,” ordered The Shadow in a sneering tone.

Delhugh stood bewildered. He had only The Shadow’s own testimony to back his statement. Now The Shadow was challenging him to offer proof.

“State that it came from Dokeby’s,” hissed The Shadow, “because you had it placed there. By Targon. When he entered Dokeby’s office early Thursday evening. After he had received the paper from you. Before he came back to your home with the swag.”

Delhugh’s face was livid. Jack Targon’s teeth were clenched. Beak Latzo, still covered by Cardona’s gun, was glowering. Oddly, Benzig was the person who suddenly spoke.

“Targon did come twice that night,” recalled the secretary, anxious to clear himself of suspicion. “The first time Mr. Delhugh gave him a note. The second time, Targon brought a package and left it downstairs. He—”

Benzig broke off as he caught a glare from Delhugh.

“A paper with finger prints,” sneered The Shadow. “But with no thumb prints on the other side—”

“I’VE got it!” exclaimed Steve, turning to Cardona. “Delhugh gave me a stack of letters. Told me to read the top one.” He turned to Daykin. “A letter from you, sir, on top of a stack. That legal form must have been on the bottom. To get my finger prints, so it could be planted in Dokeby’s safe.

“And this job was to follow quick. Beak here grabbing the swag with me in the house. Jack coming in to snag him. They bluffed Beak and they framed me. Get that, Beak?” He swung to the mobleader. “They bluffed you.”

“Yeah?” growled Beak. “Well, I’m all for ‘em. There was dough in it. And I’d have worked for ‘em anyway — and helped ‘em to frame you. Going straight, all right, that’s what you were. I’d have queered a yellow game like that myself.”

Beak’s ugly challenge was the final evidence of Steve Zurk’s innocence. Crooks were at bay, their cause demolished. Perry Delhugh as the master criminal; Jack Targon, a corrupted tool who had double-crossed a pal; Beak Latzo, nothing but a crook — these formed a dejected trio.

For The Shadow held them at his mercy, and Joe Cardona, seeing truth, was ready to click the handcuffs on the cornered band. The detective motioned to Steve to relieve Jack Targon of the gun that the forger was holding. Steve stepped forward; then suddenly stopped.

French windows were swinging inward. Beyond them came the flash of revolvers; then upon the sill appeared Lucky Ortz, springing forward with a leveled gun. The gang lieutenant was aiming for The Shadow, while henchmen were following to cover others.

THE SHADOW wheeled as Lucky fired. With his swing, the cloaked warrior did a fading trick to the right. Had The Shadow possessed his normal quickness, he would have eluded Lucky’s aim.

But The Shadow, wearied by his ordeal of this night, was lacking in the speed of his quick move. His cloaked form spun as it dropped. The red lining of the cloak swept wide as The Shadow sprawled upon the floor.

Lucky’s shot had clipped The Shadow’s left shoulder. Firing again, the lieutenant leaped forward, hoping to score another hit against his crippled foe. His second shot, hasty, sizzled wide. His third never came.

Flat from the floor, The Shadow loosed an answer. An automatic, swinging up in the gloved right fist, spoke forth with deadly aim.

Winged as he leaped, Lucky took a bound in the air. Then he flattened face foremost on the floor, writhing in death agony.

Even as Lucky fired his first shot, guns barked from the lawn outside of Daykin’s home. The crash of the French windows had been seen by The Shadow’s agents, stationed near the house. Cliff, Harry and Hawkeye had not spotted the stealthy arrival of Lucky’s new mob until the leader had broken through the doors.

Gunmen, outlined against the light of the living room, were perfect targets for a rapid fire. Forgetting the prey in the living room, gorillas dived back to the porch. They fired wildly as they scattered under the withering fire of The Shadow’s three reserves.

Jack Targon swung for Joe Cardona. But the detective, having the bulge, beat the forger to the shot.

Joe’s revolver barked; Jack’s fell from his hand. Steve Zurk made a dive for it. So did Delhugh.

Cardona aimed for the arch-crook. Beak Latzo piled upon the ace detective and bore him to the floor.

The odd gorilla hurled himself on Steve and sent the innocent man sprawling while Delhugh grabbed the gun.

Daykin and Flix grabbed the gorilla. Steve wrestled free and dived for Beak Latzo, just as the mobleader managed to get hold of Cardona’s revolver. The three fought fiercely. As Cardona slipped, Steve twisted the weapon and pressed the trigger.

Beak Latzo slumped away. Cardona was half groggy on the floor; but he was safe from harm. Steve Zurk had settled scores with Beak; but right now, Steve was thinking of a bigger crook: Perry Delhugh.

BENZIG had wrestled with his former master. With one swing, Delhugh sent the secretary rolling across the floor. Delhugh swung toward the spot where The Shadow lay motionless after the effort that had enabled him to dispatch Lucky Ortz.

As Delhugh aimed for the foe he thought helpless, Steve Zurk swung about and leveled Cardona’s revolver at Delhugh. Steve knew that he was too late; but he also knew that he could beat Delhugh before the man could fire a second shot.

From the floor, The Shadow’s eyes looked up, straight toward Delhugh’s down-swinging gun. The Shadow’s gloved right hand was knuckled downward on the floor, an automatic limp within it. Fingers tightened. The forming of the fist snapped the gun muzzle upward; and with the same move, The Shadow pressed the trigger.

Finger motion was shorter than the swing of an arm. The Shadow’s gun spat flame before Delhugh could fire.

The arch-crook swayed, wounded. He pressed the trigger of his wavering gun and sent a bullet ripping through the floor. He tried to steady as he saw The Shadow’s fist repeat its tightening. Then came a roar from behind Delhugh.

Steve Zurk had fired. Delhugh slumped forward as The Shadow managed a final shot. The added bullet seemed to jolt the arch-crook backward. Delhugh twisted; then sidled to the floor and sprawled motionless.

The Shadow’s right arm moved. Like a lever, it raised the weary body. The Shadow came to his feet, sagging to the left. Steve Zurk had joined Daykin and Flix; they added subduing touches to Beak Latzo’s henchman.

Joe Cardona, half groggy and weaponless, stared toward the living room door. There he saw The Shadow moving slowly into the hall, two automatics dangling from his gloved right hand. Joe braced. He started after.

The front door was open when Cardona reached it. Joe managed to make out a wavering figure passing through a gate some thirty feet away. He heard a weary laugh. He saw the dim forms of three men springing up to aid The Shadow.

Lucky’s gorillas had been winged and scattered. Lucky himself was dead, like Delhugh, Targon and Latzo, the three who had played major parts in the reign of crime. Steve Zurk, vindicated, had aided The Shadow in the fight for justice.

A motor chugged as Cardona, revived by clear air, stood staring through the darkness. Lights blinked; a car shot away from beyond the grounds. The Shadow’s agents were traveling away with their wounded chief.

Only one thing more to be done: the notification of Murson, the broker hiding in the hotel at The Shadow’s orders, that he need remain in hiding no longer. His evidence would not be needed, for the real killers of Luftus had been apprehended.

And as Cardona lingered, his ears caught a sound that boded well. The wild burst of weird mockery rang out through the night air. It shuddered to a fierce crescendo; then wavered into echoes.

A strong, amazing taunt. To Cardona, a proof that its author, though weary and wounded, would soon again be ready to war against hordes of crookdom.

The gibing, eerie triumph laugh of The Shadow.