The Chinese Tapestry

CHAPTER X. FLIGHT IN THE DARK

AUTOMATICS recoiled as they coughed their deadly message. Long thrusts of flame scorched the foremost pair of ruffians who were bearing down upon The Shadow.

Sprawling, diving, the two killers pitched forward, their loosening gun hands useless. Clawing wildly, they gripped their enemy.

Four others were hard upon the heels of those who had tottered. Venomously, these thugs were aiming.

They tugged at triggers as they surged into the fray. Revolvers barked; simultaneously, automatics blazed again. The Shadow had twisted in the grasp of sinking crooks. Wild bullets whistled past the spot where he had been.

Another rowdy staggered; but his body served to block The Shadow’s fire. Squarely before the big gun muzzles, this fellow took the brunt. His pals were wheeling; but The Shadow offered them no chance to follow their advantage.

Lunging forward, he hurled away the sagging body that confronted him, and launched squarely into the midst of the murderous trio that remained.

Clutching hands grabbed for The Shadow’s wrists. Wild fists swung revolvers, striking at a bobbing head.

Arms up, The Shadow wrenched away and delivered a stroke with a ready .45; his weapon encountered the closest of three skulls.

The last pair grappled with The Shadow, grabbing with both hands, one on either side, while their pal sagged to the floor between them.

Two against one, they wanted a chance to kill; but they were dealing with a fighter who weaved about too skillfully for them. The trio staggered in a long, eccentric circle, while members of the crowd were scattering from their path.

Terrified bystanders had chosen the route toward the street. They had become a milling, frantic horde, all with one objective. The space where The Shadow fought had cleared. He and his two opponents were wrestling above the forms of sprawled thugs on the floor.

Upon the platform, the Mexicans had reached the auctioneer. One was cowering the Chinaman, with upraised knife; another was snatching the teakwood box from the frightened Oriental’s hands.

Tsing Chan was back against the wall, his arms outspread. A leering Mexican was close beside him, ready with a machete, should the Chinese make a move. Tsing Chan was motionless, almost bland as he eyed the gleaming blade of the long knife.

ACTION had started elsewhere. With The Shadow’s first move, Harry Vincent and Miles Crofton had wheeled about, each drawing an automatic.

They had other tasks, while The Shadow fought. One was to rout the Mexican from the platform. Harry chose that duty. Springing forward with leveled automatic, he raised a cry to bring the trio toward him.

His gun was a threat that the Mexican would respect, for Harry could fire before they could reach him with their machetes. The Mexicans were mestizos, of low class, the very type that would scatter if their lives were menaced.

As Harry headed for the platform, Miles turned toward Dave Kelroy. The young man was staring, half bewildered, too astonished to make a move of his own volition.

Miles seized him by the arm and spun him toward the screened doorway at the right. He wanted to get Kelroy from the danger zone, before new assassins might arrive.

Until that moment, Colin Eldreth had made no move. He, like Dave Kelroy, had been rooted. He had given no sign to show his interest in proceedings. But when Miles leaped toward Dave, Colin came to life. Whipping a stubnosed revolver from his hip pocket, Colin sprang straight for Miles and Dave.

His lips gave a blurred, angry cry, as token that he intended to end this intervention. Miles wheeled to see Colin’s aiming gun, covering both himself and Dave.

Instantly, The Shadow’s agent sprang toward Colin, hurling his body in the path of the aiming gun, to protect Dave Kelroy from a shot.

Colin faltered momentarily, long enough for Miles to reach him. The Shadow’s agent was swinging his automatic; Colin warded off the blow and spun about to gain new aim.

Harry Vincent, hearing the shouts, forgot the Mexicans long enough to whirl about. He saw Miles and Colin as they locked in a furious struggle.

Harry’s later recollection of that moment was a vivid one, a fixed tableau that never left his memory. He had left the Mexicans half turned toward him, leering as they snarled from the platform, with Tsing Chan and the auctioneer motionless beyond them. He saw Miles Crofton at grips with Colin Eldreth.

He spied Dave Kelroy, halfway to the screened doorway, impelled to flight at Crofton’s urge. Harry saw The Shadow, heaving off both thugs with one mighty effort. He saw the door, where a new band of hard-faced rowdies were carving in through the last of the fleeing crowd.

THEN came sudden blackness as someone switched off the lights of the bazaar. In one instant, the whole situation was changed. Lights from the street afforded no glow for the scene.

Guns roared; tongues of flame jabbed through the darkness. The Shadow had sprawled his last two foemen, in time to meet newcomers from the door. He had planned to down the new invaders with the aid of light. Darkness did not handicap The Shadow. He knew where the door was located. His aim was true.

Revolvers barked futile replies. Crooks were firing wildly as they fell. They had a lone target; The Shadow was aiming for a group. The darkness gave him welcome cover, that eased his task. Shouts told that the reserves were diving out to the street, repelled by The Shadow’s lone attack.

Feet were scurrying from the platform, proof that the Mexicans were staging a getaway. No sound located Miles Crofton and Colin Eldreth. Harry could not guess in what direction those strugglers had staggered.

He was sure, however, that Miles could take care of himself. Harry’s only possible opportunity at present was to get Dave Kelroy out of danger.

Hurrying blindly toward the spot where he thought Kelroy stood, Harry spoke a greeting, in an undertone.

“Hello, there,” he addressed the darkness. “I’m a friend. Come along, I’ll get you out of here.”

“I’m ready,” came a reply.

Reaching Kelroy by locating the man’s voice, Harry gripped him by the arm. Together, they reached the nearer screen and crashed against it. The screen tumbled. The two kept onward. They found a passage and blundered through until they reached an outer door. Yanking the barrier open, they reached the dim light of a rear street.

Harry started to look about; then, with a sudden shout, he pointed. Three men were diving from another doorway, out into the street. They were the Mexicans; the leader of the trio was carrying a large black box. Kelroy saw the scurrying mestizos. He made a quick appeal to Harry.

“They’ve got the box!” cried Dave. “The box with the silver dragon! Stop them!”

Harry started from his own doorway, raising his automatic to fire. Another shout came from Kelroy.

Before Harry could understand the warning, four men surged from the door behind him. They were Chinamen. With clawing hands they pounced upon The Shadow’s agent.

HARRY swung hard with his gun. He staggered one Celestial with a single blow; then hit another with a glancing stroke. Dave sprang in to aid.

He grabbed one Chinaman and wrestled back and forth with his opponent. The two whom Harry had struck were staggering back into the bazaar building. Only one remained to fight The Shadow’s agent.

Harry wrestled away from the Chinaman and took aim with his automatic. With a wild cry, the Celestial dived into the doorway. His last companion heard his call and pitched Dave Kelroy to the sidewalk.

Harry fired hastily as this fellow also took to the doorway. The shots were wide.

Four Chinamen were on the run; and Harry might have followed them, for the Mexicans had by this time made their getaway. But there was a good reason why Harry failed to take up the chase. Dave Kelroy had slumped against the wall, half groggy from a thud that his head had received. Dave needed Harry’s aid.

Harry hauled him to his feet and started to drag him along the sidewalk. As they neared the corner, the purr of a motor caused Harry to turn about.

A coupe had rolled alongside. From it was springing a man whose face Harry recognized. The arrival was Colin Eldreth, whom Harry had last seen battling with Miles Crofton. Colin was without his gun; Harry had pocketed his own weapon. Colin was coming to seize Dave Kelroy. Harry dropped the groggy man and swung to meet Colin.

Harry had shown himself a remarkable fighter when he had routed four Chinamen. Here was a lone opponent, who seemed easy to contend with. Harry shot a hard punch; Colin ducked as he warded it off with his left hand.

Then, from his crouched position, Colin jabbed a swift fist upward. The punch drove past Harry’s guarding left. It clipped Harry’s chin. Staggering backward, The Shadow’s agent cracked against the wall and slumped downward to the sidewalk.

With a contemptuous laugh, Colin jerked Dave Kelroy back to his feet and rolled the young man into the coupe. Colin dashed around the car and jumped to the wheel. He saw Harry Vincent coming slowly to hands and knees. With another laugh, Colin shot the car into gear.

HARRY shook his head and stared at the departing tail-light. He was over the effects of the punch; it had staggered, but had not stunned him. He knew that Kelroy was being taken away — the coupe had reached the corner, and there was no chance to stop it, even with a pistol shot. But the tail-light was a bright one. By its glare, Harry spotted the license number of the car. Then the coupe had turned the corner.

Harry came to his feet. He was alone upon this street. Shrill whistles were sounding from the distance.

Police were again converging within Chinatown. They had arrived late last night; they would be late again tonight.

Thugs had been scattered, the Mexicans had made a getaway with the teakwood box; the Chinese had doubtless fled through some side passage from the bazaar. Once more, Dave Kelroy, a prospective victim, had departed from the danger zone.

Yet Harry was not sure of Kelroy’s safety. Colin Eldreth, whose name, like Kelroy’s, was unknown to Harry, had come to carry the rescued man away. That action could have been a bluff on Colin’s part.

Once Kelroy had escaped assassination within the bazaar, it was policy for Colin to act as Kelroy’s friend.

Until he thought of Crofton, Harry had been perplexed regarding the proper course to follow, now that Colin, like the Mexicans and Chinese, had made a getaway.

Harry was not concerned about The Shadow; he knew that his chief had actually cleared a way through the front door of the bazaar. But Harry could picture Miles, wounded or dead, on the floor beside the bodies of thugs who had fought against The Shadow.

Hastening back to the rear door, Harry regained the passage that he and Kelroy had used for exit. This time, he used a flashlight, for he was sure that the place had cleared. Sending the gleam ahead of him, Harry made toward the doorway where the fallen screen was lying.

Hardly had he reached that spot before another light gleamed close beside him. Harry was bathed in the glare of focused rays. He turned quickly, with his automatic ready, only to hear a hissed command.

Lowering his gun, Harry held his flashlight fixed.

There stood The Shadow, still in his hawklike disguise. He was supporting a man who leaned heavily upon him: Miles Crofton. Except for those two, the auction room was empty. Tsing Chan and the auctioneer must have scurried away like the other Chinese.

MILES CROFTON was trying to support himself. His eyes were opened and as Harry came up, Miles shoved his free arm over his fellow agent’s shoulder. The Shadow gave an order.

Harry turned off his flashlight, and The Shadow did the same. Picking a course through darkness, they took the doorway by the fallen screen, carrying Crofton between them.

“Report,” came The Shadow’s low-toned order.

Harry told his own episodes: how he had conducted Kelroy to safety; how they had seen the Mexicans with the teakwood box. He briefly described the fight with the four Chinamen and added the details of Colin’s departure with Dave. Harry repeated the license number of the coupe.

They had reached the rear street. The Shadow was leading them across, to a darkened alley that offered a path for departure before the police arrived. Already sirens were telling that the law was close at hand.

Miles Crofton muttered as they entered the black alley.

“Slugged me,” Miles mumbled. “That’s what the fellow did. Slugged me after the lights were out. I’m all right now. I can walk.”

The last to depart from the Chinese bazaar, The Shadow and his agents were unscathed. Again had The Shadow conquered mighty odds; and his agents had done their best to aid him. Yet victory had been hollow.

Dave Kelroy still remained to be sought. The teakwood box with the silver dragon had become the property of crooks, and must be gained. More work lay ahead for The Shadow.