The Crime Clinic

CHAPTER XX THE SHADOW’S TASK

THE JACKDAW swung his revolver toward the man and the girl at the library door. His gesture was a potent threat. Bart Melken backed away. Yvonne Lydell, however, retained her ground. She did not fear the menace of this masked intruder.

“Yvonne!” Bart Melken gasped the girl’s name. “Yvonne! Be quiet!”

The urgent words — a recognition of The Jackdaw’s cold-blooded deeds — worked opposite to Melken’s intention. The order for silence gave Yvonne the ray of hope that she desired. Wildly, the girl began to scream.

Bart Melken saw The Jackdaw’s finger on the trigger. With the first display of courage that he had ever shown in his life, he flung himself into the path of fire. His hurtling body met The Jackdaw with full force. The two men struggled.

A burst of flame. Bart Melken staggered. His body began to sag. Yvonne, gaining action as well as words, was backing across the library. She realized that the shot had been meant for her.

As The Jackdaw’s shot resounded, the unlatched front door burst open, and a stocky man dashed across the hallway to the library. The detective had heard the shot. He saw the girl. He did not look toward the windows at the side, where one was slightly open. He thought only of the menace that must lie ahead.

Drawing his revolver, Cardona flung the girl aside and stopped short at the door. His gun hand was but half raised. Before him, he saw the glistening muzzle of the revolver that The Jackdaw held.

Joe Cardona was face to face with death. He half dropped to the floor, swinging his revolver upward in a futile gesture.

Then came the second shot in this strange conflict. It came from the spot where it might be least expected. A terrific roar sounded from the partly opened window of the library. It was the cannonade of a huge automatic, that an unseen hand had thrust through the opening.

The Jackdaw saw that shot. He saw the eyes above the gun that fired it — the burning eyes of The Shadow. The black-clad warrior was framed within the window, his outline a shady shape, his black-gloved hand thrust free.

The Shadow’s bullet found its mark in The Jackdaw’s shoulder. The crook’s trigger finger made a clutch. The revolver fired a futile, hopeless shot. The Jackdaw’s arm was sagging as his hand tried to retain its aim.

IN quick staccato came the third shot of the fray. Joe Cardona’s gun had reached the level. The detective, last to fire, was the only one to repeat. Again and again he delivered bullets into The Jackdaw’s crumpling frame. The crook’s body sprawled riddled on the floor. The Jackdaw’s pouring blood mingled with that of his fellow henchman, Bart Melken.

Cardona had killed The Jackdaw — but he had gained the opportunity only through The Shadow’s intervention. Joe had not seen the mysterious fighter fire. He had merely followed the opportunity that had arrived.

It was The Shadow’s shot, however, that had done the work. But for it, Joe Cardona would have been slaughtered in his tracks.

The detective stood motionless. Before he could advance, Yvonne Lydell had sprung past him. The girl was kneeling by the bodies on the floor, neglectful of the blood that spread upon the floor. It was not Bart Melken’s form that she sought. Her hands were upon the shoulders of The Jackdaw.

“Father!” she moaned. “I feared this! Oh, father, I should have known tonight — when you told me — told me that you could rob yourself—”

“Your father?” The question came from Joe Cardona. The detective was stepping forward.

“My father,” gasped Yvonne. “My father — Garforth Lydell!”

Joe Cardona shook his head.

“You’re wrong, lady,” he declared. “I’ll tell you who this man is.” He reached down and seized the mask that The Jackdaw wore. “This is Doctor Lysander Dubrong!”

As he spoke, Cardona plucked away the mask. His action turned The Jackdaw’s head upon its side. Yvonne Lydell, staring, saw that the face was not that of her father. Joe Cardona, open-mouthed, saw that it was not Lysander Dubrong!

The face on the floor was the countenance of Farrell Sarborn. He — Farrell Sarborn — was The Jackdaw!

The echoes of a rising laugh crept through the library. A quick crescendo, those chilling tones ended in an abrupt pause, while whispered reverberations came in lulling gasps. This was The Shadow’s pronouncement. He had not spoken the true name of The Jackdaw. But The Shadow knew the identity of the dead man on the floor.

Before Cardona could stare back toward the living room, a noise interrupted him from the open door through which The Jackdaw had come. A man was standing there, a man who had entered the hallway from an outside door. The newcomer was Doctor Lysander Dubrong.

A moment later, an excited voice sounded from the library. Turning in bewilderment, Joe Cardona found himself staring at Garforth Lydell. At sight of the banker, Yvonne leaped to her feet, and threw herself into her father’s arms.

Then, while she sobbed, the girl turned and pointed to Bart Melken’s dead form. In a choking voice, she uttered words of pity for the man who had saved her life.

“Poor Bart!” sobbed Yvonne. “Poor Bart!”

“Do not say that,” came a dry-voiced tone. All turned to face Doctor Dubrong. “Say rather that Bart Melken at last deserves a word of praise. He has performed the only deed of courage in all his life.”

As if in answer came a sighing whisper from the closing window of the library. The strange, vague sound was a laugh. Yet it carried no tone of mirth or mockery. It was, rather, a knell; a weird note that carried unworded corroboration of what Doctor Lysander Dubrong had said.

It was the parting token of The Shadow, the hidden fighter, who had brought an end to The Jackdaw, following Bart Melken’s sacrifice.