The Crime Crypt

CHAPTER XXIII. THE SHADOW’S MIGHT

A TERRIFIC roar exploded within the crime crypt. It was the burst of an automatic wielded by The Shadow. Its report, caught by the vaulted room, sounded like the outburst of a mighty cannon.

The shot was fired just as Martin Havelock precipitated himself upon The Shadow. The crook sprawled as he reached his objective. The Shadow, whirling aside, let Havelock plunge on. The crook dove head first into the bottom of the mummy case of Senwosri. His clawing fingers only grazed the swishing cloak of The Shadow.

The Shadow never turned to gaze at Havelock’s body. His shot had marked the end of Duke Larrin’s career of crime. Havelock, dead from a single bullet in his heart, offered no new threat. There were others who needed a taste of The Shadow’s blistering lead.

They were coming to the fight. The roar of the automatic had brought them to swift action. Brodie Brodan — his three lieutenants — all were yanking shining revolvers to fight the common foe. The delay of Martin Havelock’s plunge; The Shadow’s sidestep — these were factors which gave the crooks an opportunity.

Brodie Brodan, leveling his revolver, was the first to make a forward lunge. Ahead of the others, Brodie sought to fire. The Shadow’s second automatic spoke. The gang leader crumpled. The automatics continued like the roar of musketry. Their thunder was accompanied by tongues of flame.

Bozo Griffin staggered, wounded. Vainly, the hard-faced gang lieutenant tried to fire as he backed against the wall. A new bullet laid him low.

Fritz Fursch, dropping to the floor, got away one shot. His hasty aim was wide. As he steadied for a second shot, a tongue of flame spat toward him. Fritz crumpled with a stifled groan.

Sinker Hargun, slowest on the draw, was the coolest in his aim. Backing toward the side door of the crypt, the fiercest of Brodie Brodan’s henchmen aimed a shot to kill. The Shadow had taken the others first, in consequence of Sinker’s slowness. Apparently, Sinker was set to beat him to this shot.

Finger on trigger, Sinker pressed. As he did, the report of his revolver was accompanied by sight of The Shadow’s dropping form. Sinker aimed again, in wild elation.

He never fired. The Shadow’s fall had been designed. Coming a split second ahead of Sinker’s shot, it had enabled the black-garbed master to escape the steady gangster’s fire. While Sinker, thinking that he had felled his enemy, was pointing for new delivery, another blast from an automatic sponsored new echoes through the crime crypt.

The Shadow, shooting as he crouched, was perfect in his rapid aim. Sinker Hargun slumped. His left hand went to his body. His right arm lowered. His revolver loosened from spreading fingers. It clattered on the stone floor of the crypt. Sinker folded; his body cracked the floor with a thud. The gangster rolled on his back and lay motionless.

Cecil Armsbury! The chief plotter of this band of crooks had chosen different tactics than the others. His aim was escape. Plunging across the crypt, he had taken advantage of The Shadow’s activity. He had made his objective the elevator that led to his living room above.

A man blocked his path. Armsbury, gun in hand, found himself wrestling with an unexpected foeman who had risen to meet him. It was Cliff Marsland. The Shadow’s agent strove to hold the master plotter.

Armsbury fought with savage fury. His strength was surprising. Cliff could not wrest the revolver away from him; but he did manage to hold Armsbury on equal footing. Together, the two struggled while The Shadow performed execution upon snarling crooks.

Joe Cardona was struggling with the bonds which Cliff had partially released. The detective broke free.

He paid no heed to Handley Matson’s cries for release. He could aid the curator later. Joe launched himself upon Cecil Armsbury, in an effort to aid Cliff Marsland.

Amazingly, the old man increased his power as his adversaries doubled. He wrenched himself free and leveled his revolver squarely at Joe Cardona. Cliff Marsland, hurled against the wall, flung his arm upward and hit the old man’s wrist. Armsbury’s shot ricocheted from the ceiling.

Cardona and Cliff leaped forward, just as Armsbury yanked open the door to the elevator shaft. A cry came from Cardona.

“Stop him! He’s going up to his house above!”

Armsbury broke away as the two men seized him. His swinging hand delivered a side clip to Cardona’s head. The detective slumped from the glancing blow of the revolver. Springing clear, Armsbury leveled his gun at Cliff. The Shadow’s agent made a futile spring to stop the shot.

ARMSBURY’S gloating cackle ended as a burst of flame was accompanied by a roar from the crypt.

The old man’s arm dropped. The Shadow, picking the only opening past Cliff Marsland’s intervening body, had clipped the archcrook in the shoulder.

Cliff seized Armsbury’s gun. He dragged the old crook forward into the crypt. Joe Cardona, rising dazed, saw that Armsbury was helpless. Joe picked up a revolver that was lying on the floor beside the body of Fingers Keefel.

Cliff Marsland, standing by the door toward the elevator shaft, heard a warning hiss beside him. He turned to find himself staring into the eyes of The Shadow. Before Cliff could nod in reply, he was drawn through the door toward the elevator. Thrust aboard, he found himself riding up through blackness.

The Shadow had withdrawn his henchman. He knew that Cliff’s status might be questioned, even though Cliff had aided Joe Cardona. With his agent, The Shadow was departing. Death reigned in the crime crypt.

The Shadow had played his part. He had ended the reign of crime. He had saved wealth that crooks had marked for theft. The crime crypt had been uncovered. Joe Cardona, representative of the law, was in possession!

The Shadow had picked the exit through Armsbury’s, learning of it from Joe Cardona’s cry. Standing in Armsbury’s living room, he pointed Cliff Marsland toward the door. The agent nodded and hurried from the house. It was his part to vacate this vicinity.

Cliff, as he reached the corner of the nearest avenue, paused for a long breath. It was then that he heard the whispered echo of a weird laugh — a sound that seemed to come from in back of Armsbury’s home.

The laugh of The Shadow! It was sinister mockery that denoted triumph. Yet to Cliff, it carried a strange note that presaged impending action!