Gangdom's Doom

CHAPTER XXII THE SHADOW STRIKES AGAIN

WHEN John Genara returned to the room where Tony Anelmo guarded Harry Vincent, the prisoner had regained full consciousness. The arrival of the second persecutor caused him to anticipate a new series of tortures.

But Genara had something to talk about before that work commenced. He spoke to Anelmo in Italian, and the other man responded with surprised questions.

One name entered their conversation. They repeated “Monk Thurman” time and again.

Harry could not grasp the connection. He had seen Monk Thurman in action; he had witnessed the power of the New York mobster. Then he recalled that Monk Thurman was the reputed killer of Hymie Schultz and Four-gun Spirak.

Could it be that Monk Thurman was coming here, to aid the two Sicilians?

Nevertheless, the Homicide Twins were not yet willing to abandon their efforts. Their long discussion concluded, they turned their attention to Harry.

Anelmo began the twisting of the iron bar, and Harry again experienced that extreme torture that had previously unnerved him. But now he was obdurate. He maintained complete silence despite the agony. He chewed his lips; then gasped, and let his head fall forward as he groaned.

The ruse worked. Both his captors thought that he had again weakened beneath the strain, and they stopped the torture to let him regain strength.

Harry was too wise to extend his period of rest too long. He knew that an overindulgence in that practice would give the game away. Yet why was he waiting at all? He had no hope of rescue.

The Shadow had no inkling of his distress. When Monk Thurman would arrive, some new and more drastic punishment would follow.

Harry showed some signs of life, and Anelmo began the torture again. This time he worked more slowly. At first it was agonizing; then Harry managed to brace himself against it. But at length Anelmo gave the iron rod a peculiar twist, and gained an unexpected result.

Harry screamed despite himself. Genara spoke rapidly. Anelmo tried the new twist with the same result. Harry could stand no more. He was about to give up all his efforts to conceal The Shadow’s secret phone number, when he saw Genara raise a warning hand. The Sicilian was listening.

Silence pervaded the room. Genara opened the inner door, and went out into the dark passageway.

Harry could hear the sound now. A quick rap; then two slow raps. He could barely see Genara in the darkness. The Sicilian rapped twice in response. His raps were quick. Then came two slow taps from the other side.

Genara fumbled with the bolts that held the heavy door. Then he turned the key in the lock. The door opened outward; but no one entered. At least, neither Harry Vincent nor Tony Anelmo could see any one enter.

They stared at John Genara. The Sicilian killer seemed to be backing away from the door. He came into the light of the room. His hands were raised above his shoulders.

Then a gasp of gladness came from Harry Vincent. As Genara turned sidewise, in response to some inaudible command, another figure came in view — the black-clad form of The Shadow!

THE sinister man of the darkness held two automatics. One was pressed against Genara’s ribs. The other was pointed past Harry Vincent. It covered Anelmo, who was standing beside the torture chair, and as a hissing command came from The Shadow, the second Sicilian raised his hands in obedience.

The Shadow laughed — softly. The sibilant sound filled the room, and the stone walls seemed to laugh in return.

As the uncanny laughter died away, The Shadow spoke, and his words were weird and ominous.

“Against the wall,” he hissed. The automatic moved in his hand. Anelmo backed against the wall, and Genara was lined up beside him. The Shadow dropped one gun beneath his cloak.

Still covering the Sicilians with the single automatic, he reached forward with his free hand, and with a quick, swift movement, pulled away the iron rod that held the twisted rope behind Harry’s back. Then a knife came into view, and The Shadow cut the binding ties.

Harry arose, free. But weakness overcame him. He collapsed. The Shadow’s hand plucked him before he toppled to the stone floor.

Harry dropped into the torture chair, and lay there, limp and exhausted.

When he regained consciousness, he was amazed by what he saw. Genara and Anelmo were seated against the wall, each bound with ropes.

How The Shadow had accomplished it, Harry did not know. He imagined that the man in the black cloak had commanded one of the Homicide Twins to bind his companion.

But now The Shadow was speaking. He was addressing the helpless men who lay against the wall, and his words carried a note of warning.

“This is twice that we have met,” he said. “So beware!”

The sinister voice made Harry shudder in spite of the fact that The Shadow was his friend.

“You were waiting for another man. You will find him outside — unless he finds you here first. He rapped, and you answered. But while you unbarred the door, I came from the darkness and overpowered him.

“He was sent here by Nick Savoli. You will take your instructions from him. Perhaps he will ask you what has happened to your prisoner. You will not know. You will never learn.

“I leave you now; and remember: I know your secret. I know who killed Larrigan’s men.

“One week from to-day, Nick Savoli will know, also. For I shall tell him!”

The Shadow stood like an accusing specter from the other world. The two killers quailed as they heard his dread words.

THE SHADOW approached the chair where Harry Vincent sat, and raised the young man’s head. He drew a vial from his cloak, and placed the small bottle against Harry’s lips.

The pungent liquid was unlike anything that Harry had ever tasted. It seemed to revive him, and give him sudden strength. His step was almost firm as The Shadow guided him to the door.

They went up the steps together, into total darkness. Harry could not see the strange figure that walked beside him. Only the firm, steadying grip enabled him to know that The Shadow was still there.

A coupe was parked by the curb, behind the sedan; but The Shadow ignored the smaller vehicle. He helped Harry into the front seat of the sedan, and gave him the key, which he had evidently taken from the helpless Anelmo. Then The Shadow placed a slip of paper in Harry’s hand. The sheet was folded.

“Drive straight ahead,” came the whispered voice, “until you reach the boulevard. Then follow the instructions that are on the paper.”

As Harry slipped the sedan into gear, he glanced backward. The door had closed; there was no sign of The Shadow. The man of darkness had vanished into the thick night.

Harry Vincent gripped the wheel, and piloted the powerful automobile along the narrow street. He wondered what the instructions would be; but more than that, he wondered what mission The Shadow had chosen.

BACK in the underground room, the Sicilians struggled to free themselves from their bonds. It seemed a hopeless task. The Shadow had tied them quickly, but well. Anelmo nearly managed to free one hand; then he could get no further.

At that moment, assistance arrived. A man stumbled into the room. He was still partially bound with ropes. His face and hands were covered with mud. In one fist he held an automatic, and he blinked his eyes as he came into the light.

Anelmo recognized Monk Thurman.

“Where is he?” demanded the gangster, in his rasping voice. “Where is he?”

“Who?” questioned Anelmo.

“The man you captured.”

“He is gone.”

“What? You let him go?”

“The Shadow took him.”

An exclamation of disgust came from Monk Thurman. He freed himself from the ropes that still bound him, and glared contemptuously at the helpless Sicilians.

“You let him get you?” he cried. “Two of you? Here in the light?”

“He got you, didn’t he?” retorted Genara.

“He hit me from behind, in the dark. If you had opened the door more quickly, I would have been safe. But he knocked me cold while you were fooling with those bolts.”

The gangster drew a knife from his pocket. He cut the bonds that bound the other men, and Anelmo and Genara rose.

“He drove away in my car,” declared Monk. “He came back and tied me up, just as I was coming to my senses. I didn’t have a chance to fight him. I heard him drive away, after that.”

“Well, you botched things up,” said Genara accusingly.

“I botched things up?” retorted Thurman. “You fellows were to blame. Why couldn’t you make that guy talk?”

Anelmo shrugged his shoulders, and Genara made a similar gesture. They had nothing more to say.

They were antagonistic toward Monk Thurman, but they knew it would not be wise to continue the argument. They left the underground room with the New York gangster. When they reached the street, Monk uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“So they pinched your buggy!” he said. “Well, you have to ride back with me. Funny they didn’t take both of them. I guess you crippled that fellow Vincent so he wasn’t able to drive a car. Well, come along.”

IT was a silent trio that drove back toward the Loop. Monk Thurman turned into a street that led to the Escadrille Apartments. He stopped in front of Savoli’s residence, and motioned toward the door.

“Go on in,” he said. “Tell the big boy all about it.”

Genara and Anelmo alighted from the coupe.

“What about you?” demanded Genara. “He sent you. Are you coming in with us?”

“Tell him I’ll be there to-morrow. I’m going to be busy tonight. I’m out to get The Shadow!”

“Yeah? What if you don’t find him?”

“I’ll come in to-morrow anyway. I’m giving you fellows a break. Tell your story first. I’ll spill mine later.”

The Sicilians talked as they stood on the curb, after Monk Thurman had driven away. They muttered low words in Italian, and their conversation took on an unusual tone.

One fact had impressed them more than any other. That was the warning given by The Shadow.

“One week from tonight — ” said Anelmo.

“One week,” repeated Genara. “But before then — “