Murder Trail

CHAPTER XXII THE SHADOW ANSWERS

THIS was the answer of The Shadow! Crix had decreed; The Shadow had replied. Crix had schemed; but The Shadow had forestalled the masquerading millionaire.

Knowing that Victor Venturi would be here tonight, awaiting the meeting that would take place between emissary and millionaire, The Shadow had entered this room before the arrival of Bumps Jaffrey’s gang. He had opened the vault which Crix had boasted no one could crack; and therein he had awaited all developments.

The timely appearance of The Shadow — his unexpected arrival from the one spot that seemed impossible — these were factors that brought fear to all who saw the figure in black as it came clear of the huge swinging door.

With one shot, The Shadow had felled Bart Shallock. His second automatic was sweeping upward. Its objective was the head of Crix, peering above the end of the desk.

The fiend saw the menace. He ducked for safety. At that instant, The Shadow would have ended the career of the supercrook, but for Angelo’s untimely action.

Venturi’s servant, leaping forward, hurled himself across the desk and blocked The Shadow’s aim just as the hand was on the trigger of the automatic.

Angelo’s mad plunge took care of Crix. The Shadow saw that the Italian was overpowering the master crook, beyond the end of the desk. There were others who must be aided: Cliff Marsland and Victor Venturi, for hostile guns were covering them now.

The Shadow’s automatics resounded through the room. Gangsters were his targets — evil men who fell screaming before the ferocity of his attack. Cliff Marsland pulled Venturi to the floor, and, crouching, joined The Shadow in the battle.

Turning, Cliff saw a gangster about to shoot him. Up came Cliff’s revolver, to beat the mobsman to the shot. But even as Cliff pressed the trigger, he saw the gunman crumple. A bullet from The Shadow’s automatic had taken care of the foeman while Cliff Marsland was firing.

Bumps Jaffrey, crawling on the floor, regained his gun and swung to take a pot shot at the figure of The Shadow. Bumps was partially behind the desk; but the gleaming eyes of The Shadow discerned his skulking figure. As Bumps was rising, one automatic turned momentarily in his direction. A burst of flame and the gang leader collapsed.

Outstretched forms of mobsmen — writhing figures that seemed other than human — these were the tokens of The Shadow’s fight. The answer to Crix had been a terrific attack, as effective as it was unexpected.

In rapid, roaring seconds, The Shadow had polished off this mob, so swiftly that Cliff Marsland had been scarcely able to aid him. Only Crix, the master plotter, remained unscathed.

He was choking on the floor, the vengeful hands of Angelo upon his neck.

A cry came from Cliff Marsland. In response, The Shadow’s eyes turned toward the door. The four mobsmen stationed outside were coming in. They saw The Shadow beside the door of the safe. Their guns were swinging upward.

As The Shadow fired, his tall form swung to one side. His first bullet dropped a mobsman; then came the replying shots from the remaining trio of invaders.

They had nearly trapped The Shadow; but his action had frustrated them. The Shadow had swung behind the half-opened door of the vault. Bullets flattened against the steel barrier. The Shadow was protected; only the muzzle of one automatic offered a target as it rested against the edge of the door.

Cliff Marsland fired at one mobsman, and wounded the fellow in the left arm. The gangster turned to fire in reply, while the others still blazed at the safe. But the muzzle of The Shadow’s automatic was speaking now. It ejected swift, sure missives toward the reinforcements who had come to aid the crippled gang.

The trio of mobsters staggered crazily. First among them was the one who had aimed at Cliff Marsland. That gangster twisted as he fell, his lips mouthing incoherent oaths. The others sprawled beside him.

A shot came from beyond the desk. Crix, by a lucky twist, had wrested free from Angelo, and had shot the Italian with a single shot. Up came the body of the supercrook. Crix saw the shape of The Shadow emerging beyond the door of the vault.

With a cry of exultation, Crix aimed to slay the being who had been his nemesis. Cliff Marsland swung to shoot the master crook.

He could not prevent Crix from firing — Cliff was too late for that — but Cliff’s sudden intervention meant that Crix would fall within a second after he delivered that single bullet toward the black-garbed form of The Shadow.

Crix had aimed with vengeance. It was too late for Cliff to save The Shadow. But the weird fighter whom Angelo had called the black ghost needed only his own firm hand to save himself. An automatic blazed from a swiftly aiming fist.

The rising form of Crix poised. A strange, hideous expression covered the evil face. The outstretched hand faltered. Its fingers spread, and the revolver fell toward the floor.

Before the dropping weapon reached the woodwork, Cliff’s revolver spoke, and another bullet joined The Shadow’s in the body of the supercrook.

Crix toppled with a swiftly speeding crash. He flattened motionless upon the floor. His body lay huddled, without life.

Crix, the supercrook, had been the last to die. He, like these other rats of crime, had been blotted out by The Shadow!

Victor Venturi was uninjured. The Italian, moving unsteadily, reached the form of Angelo. The servant was dying. He had been mortally wounded in his fight with Crix. Cliff Marsland went to aid Venturi; seeing that Angelo was beyond saving, Cliff stared about the room.

Everywhere were motionless mobsters. These men had sought to slay The Shadow; instead, they had met the doom which they deserved. Sure bullets had found their marks in fiends of crime; on the side of right, the only casualty was Angelo. The servant’s own impetuosity had made it impossible for The Shadow to aid him and save his life.

Within a few exciting minutes, the tide had turned completely. Crix had decreed, when he had summoned his crew of mobsmen. The Shadow had answered, stepping from the vault where no one had dreamed that he could be.

Justice had triumphed over evil in this swift, exciting fight that had marked the end of the schemes evolved by Crix. The fiend and his henchmen were through.

Crix had decreed; The Shadow had answered. The triumph belonged to The Shadow. The strange, sinister laugh that now echoed through the room was The Shadow’s cry of victory!