The Death Giver

CHAPTER XVIII. THE SHADOW SPEAKS

STANDING beside the open window, Paul Roderick was a fiend gone wild. The trusted minion of Thade, he had long since imbibed The Death Giver’s love for ruthless slaughter. The disappointment of a dozen men undoomed awoke a terrible frenzy in the murderer’s brain.

The blare of another band, coming up Broadway behind the soldiers, filled Roderick with unrestrained anger. It was several minutes before he could regain his control. Then came sobering thoughts. What could he report to Thade?

Some one must be blamed. It could not be Thade. Well did Roderick know that The Death Giver was unerring in his calculations. Slowly, Roderick realized that he himself could not have been responsible for the failure. He had followed Thade’s instructions with exactitude.

Dimly, a strange realization came over Paul Roderick. It must have been the human element that had destroyed the plan of death. Eliminating himself and Thade, there was only one other participant in the scheme. That one was Harlan Treffin.

What could Treffin have done to spoil these plans? The man had played a purely minor part as Roderick’s assistant. He was in the other room, dismantling the apparatus, not even realizing what Thade and Roderick had sought to accomplish.

Yet Treffin must be the culprit! The process of elimination pointed directly to him. Treffin would pay the price. He, at least, would die.

With a shout of ire, Roderick seized the vapor pistol from the table and turned toward the door of the other office.

He stopped short as he saw a figure standing in the door. It was not the form of Harlan Treffin. It was a strange shape whose identity Roderick knew upon the instant. A being clad entirely in black, his shoulders bearing up a flowing cloak, his brilliant eyes peering like live coals from beneath the brim of a black slouch hat. Harlan Treffin was gone; in his place stood The Shadow!

The black avenger bore no weapon. His hands, ungloved, were crossed before his body, the only spots of white amid that symphony in black. Upon a finger of the left hand shone a strange gem, that sparkled with the same weird light that gleamed from the eyes of The Shadow!

PAUL RODERICK stood stock-still. For the first time in his life, the man experienced a terrible fear. To Roderick, Thade, The Death Giver, had been an insidious being, but not a menace. He had never felt the terrible dread which others had sensed when they had come to Thade’s abode. But now Roderick knew a terror that was as great as any which had gripped an unwilling minion of Thade. He felt the power of The Shadow, and he quailed before those burning eyes!

A sinister laugh reached Roderick’s ears. The laugh of The Shadow! As terrifying as the black-clad being himself! The creepy tones of that mockery were a cry of exultation. They crystallized The Shadow’s triumph over Thade, The Death Giver. That was the laugh of the stern master who had thwarted the hand of doom!

To Paul Roderick, The Shadow’s sardonic mirth was a call to vengeance. In one brief instant, the murderer became imbued with a mad purpose. He would kill The Shadow. He would turn that gibing laugh into a gasp of death.

Suiting the thought with action, Roderick sprang forward and leveled his vapor gun squarely toward the eyes of The Shadow.

Roderick’s finger pressed the trigger. There was a sudden hiss as the spray shot from the muzzle. That discharge was designed to bring instant death, but it did not disturb The Shadow. A new taunt of laughter came from the hidden lips. The right hand, suddenly pressed beneath the black cloak, emerged to point an automatic between Paul Roderick’s eyes.

With a gasp, the thwarted murderer staggered back. His hands went above his head. His body slumped against the wall. The discharged vapor pistol dropped to the floor.

Paul Roderick was in the power of The Shadow.

“Paul Roderick,” The Shadow’s sinister whisper echoed through the room, “you have fallen into my snare! The scheme of Thade, The Death Giver, has failed. You are helpless!”

“Treffin,” gasped Roderick involuntarily. “Where is Treffin?”

“Harlan Treffin is dead,” declared The Shadow. “It was I — not Treffin— who conferred with you last night. You called upon The Shadow to aid you in your scheme of ruthless death!”

The Shadow’s laugh brought new terror to Roderick.

“Those packages,” came The Shadow’s sardonic tone, “were opened long before you arrived at this place today. The poison liquid alone was removed. Its purpose was too evident. A harmless fluid replaced it. The bubbles burst — but death did not follow.”

The explanation had been given. Roderick’s lips snarled helplessly. The poison fluid had not been necessary to the formation of the bubbles — only to their effectiveness. Instead of deadly gas, a useless vapor had filled the fragile globules. That had been The Shadow’s doing!

Even Roderick’s spray pistol had been useless. It had been loaded with the remnants of the harmless compound.

The Shadow was approaching Roderick. The gleaming eyes were orbs of doom, more virulent than any killing force that Thade had ever loosed.

The Shadow had trapped The Death Giver’s lieutenant. He had captured the one man who was not a dupe; the only minion of Thade who did not possess a device that would bring self-destruction.

Barcomb, Quinley, Jarvis, and Treffin had died before The Shadow could fully unseal their lips. But now the black avenger held full sway over one whose lips could speak and tell all!

THE muzzle of the automatic seemed tunnellike before Roderick’s failing gaze. In the gloom of this room, The Shadow loomed as a sinister menace. Harsh, sneering words resounded in Roderick’s ears.

“Thade deals cruel death,” was The Shadow’s statement. “He calls himself The Death Giver. Perhaps the ways of Thade are the ways of The Shadow also!”

Roderick quailed. Until now, he had ridiculed those weaklings who had fainted at the sight of the dying man beneath the floor of Thade’s abode. But the words of The Shadow indicated that The Death Giver was not the only one who could deliver terror.

Roderick was in a hopeless dilemma. He feared the wrath of Thade, should he manage to escape. He was facing the menace of The Shadow at this moment.

Like others, he showed his cowardice. The blazing eyes, the threatening voice — these were the factors that compelled him to speak. Like others, he found himself betraying Thade. Well did Roderick know that Thade was only human; that The Death Giver could not save him now.

As his confession poured from his gasping lips, Roderick suddenly experienced mingled sensations. He realized that he was placing himself entirely at the mercy of The Shadow; that he was confessing his crimes to a being who waged relentless war upon all hordes of evil.

The first wave of cowardice was waning; but Roderick had already told too much. He was answering The Shadow’s questions; he was telling the truth about Thade. What would be his reward?

It suddenly occurred to Roderick that he was faced by one who gave no reward to men of crime!

While his lips still spoke, pouring their confession in involuntary tones, a surge of hatred swept through Roderick’s brain. His existence seemed mechanical. His mouth spoke, his mind schemed; his body slumped; and his hands slipped to his sides.

His eyes were staring directly into The Shadow’s. That gaze was fixed. Roderick saw nothing but the eyes before him — eyes that glistened from the darkness beneath the brim of the slouch hat. The rising surge of evil became impelling.

With a wild scream, Paul Roderick leaped forward. His left hand warded away the automatic. His right grappled for The Shadow’s hidden throat.

The sudden impetus of the attack gave it momentary success; Roderick felt a strange elation as he fought.

Within these phantom robes was a human frame. He would battle The Shadow to the death!

Powerful as a frenzied bull, Roderick seized The Shadow and fell grappling to the floor. His left hand clutched the metal of the automatic. It struggled to free the weapon from The Shadow’s grasp.

Rolling on the floor, Roderick was entangled in The Shadow’s cloak. He gripped the gun which was pressing close against him. He could feel its shape, and he jammed his finger to the trigger.

A muffled report sounded beneath the folds of The Shadow’s cloak. A dying gasp was uttered as a foiled fighter sank to the floor. The fierce struggle was ended by a shot from the automatic.

Silence pervaded the room wherein Paul Roderick had made his bold attempt to foil The Shadow.