The Crime Crypt

CHAPTER XXII. WORDS OF THE SHADOW

NOT one crook dared make a move. Silence reigned within the crime crypt, but the memory of The Shadow’s laugh prevailed. The Shadow had caught these fiends at a moment when they thought their safety complete. Not a gun was ready to challenge the threat of his mammoth automatics.

Cliff Marsland uttered an inaudible sigh of relief. He had forgotten that his own life was at stake. He had been chiding himself for the failure which had brought two others — Joe Cardona and Handley Matson — to share his fate.

The presence of The Shadow had ended all thoughts of doom. That spectral visitant in black, his ready guns looming before the terrified crooks, had the situation completely within his control. One against six; but The Shadow dominated the half-dozen!

Moments seemed to linger within the crime crypt. Bulging eyes stared as The Shadow’s weird shape moved forward. With a slow, gliding motion, The Shadow issued from the mummy case of Senwosri.

His tall figure in plain view, the master who battled crime whispered forth a laugh more terrifying than the first. It was a shuddering laugh that seemed to come from everywhere. Sinister mirth pounded the ear-drums of the listening fiends. All trembled. Even Cliff and the two prisoners beside him felt the horror of that mockery.

“Living shall be dead.” The Shadow’s pronouncement came in a sibilant tone. “The dead has come to life to deal judgment. Your crimes are ended.”

The blazing eyes were focused upon the cringing crooks. Again an echo of The Shadow’s laugh; then the hissing voice spoke:

“You are murderers. Perry Trappe died through your conniving. So did Tyler Bogart. One man — Croaker Mannick — was the instrument through whom death was dealt.

“Croaker Mannick met his fate. He challenged my might. He fought me amid darkness — at Tyler Bogart’s home.” A pause; The Shadow’s whispered laugh was throbbing at the recollection. “A fight in the darkness. The Shadow dwells in dark! Croaker Mannick did not escape The Shadow. Croaker Mannick, man of murder, died as he fled!”

A gesture of one automatic added emphasis to The Shadow’s statement. Fingers Keefel stared, bewildered. He remembered shots that Croaker had fired, back in Bogart’s strongroom. Croaker had fought with The Shadow — and had lost!

“Croaker Mannick left Bogart’s.” The Shadow’s voice was a creepy sneer. “I carried him from the spot where he had died. His body will never be found. But I retained his famous revolver. It was I who visited the home of Brisbane Calbot — to play the part of Croaker Mannick!”

THE truth broke upon Fingers Keefel. He realized now the oddities of that meeting in Calbot’s curio room. He had seen Croaker Mannick there — but Croaker had seemed different. Fingers recalled the pale face of the murderer; Croaker’s unusual suggestion.

Fingers had attributed them to nervousness on Croaker’s part. He knew now that The Shadow had feigned such expressions so that Fingers would not detect the imposition!

“Croaker Mannick placed Brisbane Calbot in the vault.” The Shadow’s whisper was a sibilant throb. “I was Croaker Mannick. It was I who released Calbot — I, The Shadow — to carry him to safety. Brisbane Calbot lives! Living, he provided the clew to crime!”

The whole truth was dawning upon all. Cecil Armsbury, a snarl frozen on his lips, was facing The Shadow with eyes that still showed the glower of a fiend.

“Cecil Armsbury!” The Shadow’s scoffing tone marked the crook who had backed the schemes of crime.

“Purveyor of false treasures. I learned your game; but I, The Shadow, waited. I foresaw the culmination of crime. I sought a way to reach this crypt and take you and your minions unaware.

“I visited the Egyptian Museum! I saw your collection of antiquities. I knew them to be spurious. I learned of the mummy cases that were coming in. I divined that they would carry living henchmen.”

A gasp from the corner of the room. It came from Handley Matson. The curator of the Egyptian Museum had gained a sudden inkling. He realized the identity of the old visitor who had called during the afternoon to see the tomb of Senwosri.

The Shadow! He had played the part of Professor Sturgis Dilling. His package — his briefcase — these had contained his black garments and his huge automatics. The Shadow, with masterful craft, had opened the door to Senwosri’s tomb. He had entered — to close the door behind him.

“I took the part of Senwosri.” The Shadow delivered a low, ominous laugh. “The mummy and all its treasure is safe — within the locked sarcophagus where I placed it. That container — supposedly empty — was not touched.”

It was Joe Cardona who uttered an amazed exclamation. He realized the subtlety of The Shadow’s work. The crooks had ignored the relocked sarcophagus. So had the police. Both had passed by the real treasure. Unstolen, the mummy of Senwosri and its fabulous accompaniment of gems and gold had never left the Egyptian Museum.

The Shadow had tricked the crooks of the crime crypt with their own game! Minions of crime had been carried into the Egyptian Museum within closed mummy cases. The Shadow, foreseeing that move, had countered with the same scheme. Brodie Brodan’s picked henchmen had served as carriers to bring The Shadow, himself, to the crime crypt!

TENSE silence reigned. The Shadow held the crooks at bay. They knew that their crimes were learned.

Cecil Armsbury’s past swindles were uncovered. Murder had been exposed. The secret of the crypt was known. The ways of fiends were ended.

Cliff Marsland, yanking one hand loose from the cord that bound his wrists, was preparing to give The Shadow aid. Cliff had served The Shadow in situations that had held this weird intensity.

He knew the ways of cornered crooks when they faced The Shadow. First terrified; then cowed; they invariably leaped to desperate measures when they realized that The Shadow knew all the evil which they had committed.

Cliff’s hand was free. The Shadow’s agent was reaching to aid Joe Cardona. This action was unnoticed by the crooks. Their staring eyes were all upon The Shadow. Six fiends were waiting, all with common thought. Their hope was a way to thwart this master who held them helpless. A single spark alone was needed to explode them.

It came. Martin Havelock — the redoubtable Duke Larrin — was the one who led the challenge to The Shadow’s might. Facing the looming automatics, the snarling international crook was seized with sudden wildness.

A cry echoed through the crypt as Martin Havelock gave the word for mass attack. Nearest to The Shadow, Havelock leaped forward, hurling his reckless body into the path of both The Shadow’s guns!