The Fate Joss

CHAPTER VIII ONE HALF HOUR

THE halfway point of the stairway was marked by a little landing, where the stairway doubled forward to the second floor. It was from the darkness of the landing that The Shadow had first viewed the lights of the hall and the bedroom.

The Shadow had reached this house too late to prevent the murder of Chichester Laudring; moreover, his arrival was too recent to bring him any sounds that might tell of Hoang Fu’s presence. All that The Shadow could discern was the illumination that indicated an occupant of the front room.

To peer into that room, The Shadow needed to traverse the lighted hall. Should an occupant suspect his approach, this cloaked visitant would need immediate cover. The stairway would be too far behind, once the front room was reached. With one hand beneath his cloak, The Shadow looked about for a hiding place that would do in an emergency. His eyes turned straight toward the door of Satsu’s darkened room.

Hoang Fu, lurking, had been awaiting The Shadow’s cautious advance. Like a jungle beast that stalks an unsuspecting prey, the giant Mongol was ready for a spring. He had counted on the cloaked figure coming closer; but when The Shadow’s eyes swung toward the doorway, the murderous Chinaman waited no longer.

Eight feet intervened between Hoang Fu and The Shadow. The mammoth killer covered it with one tremendous leap. His long left arm shot forward, its clawing hand aiming for The Shadow’s throat. His right fist sped upward, thrusting the bloody blade straight for The Shadow’s black-clad form.

Tonight, the odds were turned. Hoang Fu was delivering the surprise. At Roucard’s, he had outmatched The Shadow despite the latter’s leveled gun. Here at Laudring’s, Hoang Fu was lurching forward with a driving dirk while The Shadow was still drawing an automatic from beneath his cloak.

Yet The Shadow possessed an advantage which Hoang Fu had not considered. He had fought with the fiendish Mongol once before; and The Shadow never forgot the methods of an enemy whom he had previously encountered. His burning eyes had spied Hoang Fu at the very instant when the killer was about to launch his spring. The Shadow acted with instinctive skill.

As Hoang Fu hurtled toward him, The Shadow twisted, fading to the right. In the midst of his dervish spin, he loosed his fist and let his automatic clatter across the hall. Whirling full about, he shot his long arms straight for Hoang Fu’s ram-like form.

The Shadow was only half clear of the killer’s drive; that space, however, was sufficient. Hoang Fu’s left hand caught The Shadow’s left arm instead of his neck. The upswinging knife point carved the folds of the black cloak; the blade barely skimmed the lithe body beneath.

Hoang Fu swung about through the very speed of his attack, carrying The Shadow with him. Viselike fingers gripped the killer’s right wrist; their fierce twist caused Hoang Fu to drop his knife.

As the long blade clattered to the floor, Hoang Fu wrenched his wrist from The Shadow’s grasp. With both arms, he grappled with The Shadow, in hand-to-hand combat.

THE SHADOW still held his footing; with both hands free, he fought Hoang Fu at the man’s own game. Catch as catch can, Hoang Fu still held the odds, for he had titanic strength with which to back his skill. Yet The Shadow had chosen the one course that afforded opportunity.

In brief but furious grapple, he outmatched the skill of the murderous wrestler. Like a tiny mongoose fighting a huge writhing cobra, The Shadow broke Hoang Fu’s holds and gained his own. Twisting, using swift jujitsu methods, The Shadow lashed the murderer back and forth across the hall.

Just as The Shadow had stalled Hoang Fu the night before, so did the Chinaman thwart the cloaked fighter’s measures in this battle. His own skill was sufficient to free him from some holds. His bulk served him when The Shadow tried to throw him with other moves. Time and again, Hoang Fu lurched forward over The Shadow’s shoulder, only to recover and counter while The Shadow sought a new hold.

His first drive finished, the giant could gain no new advantage; but The Shadow, with all his skill, was unable to throw this adversary who knew how to rally against every grip. Fighting a man-mountain of twice his bulk, The Shadow was due to weary long before Hoang Fu. It was foresight of that fact that caused him to deliver an unexpected move.

Gaining a quick hold, The Shadow thrust Hoang Fu backward; then released his grip. Before the killer could recover, the cloaked fighter made a dive toward the head of the stairs. Hoang Fu, dropping to a crouch, delivered a triumphant snarl and launched himself in a terrific plunge to overtake The Shadow.

Six feet six shot forward, clear of the floor. Hoang Fu outdid himself in that mammoth bound. Long arms forward, huge bulk in mid-air, he had his opportunity. Had his leap been unexpected, Hoang Fu would have flattened The Shadow close by the top step. But The Shadow had known what was due to come.

He stopped short as he heard Hoang Fu’s snarl. Dropping to one knee, The Shadow thrust both arms upward. Hoang Fu’s arms sped above and past The Shadow’s head. His flying body skimmed those cloaked shoulders. Like trip-hammers, The Shadow’s hands clipped the killer’s waist. Shooting forward, they propelled Hoang Fu onward, adding impetus to the murderer’s flying drive.

Had his leap ended normally, Hoang Fu’s hands, missing The Shadow, would have struck the floor before the top step. But that added force carried the big Mongol further. Hoang Fu’s hands found nothingness. His body continued its long arc, clearing the eight steps to the landing.

The Shadow, crouched and panting, saw the flying shape disappear. He heard a half-snarled scream from Hoang Fu’s lips; then a terrific crash as the killer smashed the wall of the landing, head foremost.

The wild cry ended; a big body thudded. Sudden silence was broken by the slight clatter of falling plaster.

THE SHADOW arose and went to the darkened stairs. He glimmered a flashlight toward the landing. The glow showed Hoang Fu sprawled in twisted fashion; beyond him, a broken wallboard. The killer’s gigantic plunge had ended with a deadening impact.

Though his body had rolled face downward, Hoang Fu’s head was twisted more than half about. Frozen yellow features were leering upward toward The Shadow; blood was streaming sidewise along the killer’s forehead, away from his bulging eyes. The crash had not only smashed Hoang Fu’s thick skull; it had broken the murderer’s neck as well. Hoang Fu, twice a killer, had gained deserved doom.

Hoang Fu was dead; his menace ended. The Shadow crossed the hall and entered the front room. Past the bed he discovered Chichester Laudring’s body. After a brief survey of this victim, The Shadow went back to the stairs and descended, stepping across Hoang Fu’s blocking body.

On the ground floor, The Shadow paused and looked upward. Hoang Fu’s corpse was obscured above the steps to the landing. The Shadow began a swift search of the ground floor. He found the locked door to the cellar. It was not a formidable barrier; the lock was easy for The Shadow’s pick. Opening the door, The Shadow descended into the darkened cellar.

With flashlight, The Shadow picked his way between the coal bins. He widened the focus of the beam. It shone upon the bulky statue of the Fate Joss. A whispered laugh came from The Shadow’s hidden lips as he surveyed the glittering glaring idol. The rays of light turned toward one of the squatty dog cannons, then to the other. Finally, as The Shadow advanced, the beam showed the deepest recess of the cellar.

Turning about, The Shadow went back to the stairs. Arrived in the ground floor hall, he picked up the telephone and dialed a number. A quiet voice responded. The Shadow began to speak in a low whisper. As he talked, a clangor sounded in the house. Some one was ringing the front doorbell.

The Shadow paused; the clang was repeated. Then came an interval, followed by a third ringing of the bell. After that, a pause, with no new sound of visitors who craved admittance.

The Shadow concluded his telephone call. Moving to the front door, he listened; but heard no sounds from without. Whoever had come had gone. With a slight swish of his cloak, The Shadow glided back toward the door that led below.

OUTSIDE, Satsu had approached the vicinity of the old house. His hour was not yet up; but darkness had settled and the Korean could see no risk in this terrain. But Satsu had stopped at the nearest corner. Thanks to a lighted street lamp, he had discerned two men who were leaving the front steps of Laudring’s home.

Satsu edged into a doorway near the corner. The two men did not see him as they passed; but the Korean caught snatches of their conversation. One was speaking in a growl:

“I said it was a crank call, Casey. Well, I was right. Some guy got a kick out of us chasing up to an empty house. I’ll bet that place has been closed for a year.”

“You’re right, Parker. Well, we’ll ride back to headquarters. Maybe Joe Cardona will be there by now—”

The two men had passed from hearing distance; but their words had told Satsu much. The Korean knew that Laudring must have discovered his bluff about the telephone. Going back to his original idea, Laudring had called headquarters. Two detectives had come in response; but they had been denied admittance.

Satsu decided to put in a telephone call to Doctor Tam. He preferred to make it from the drug store where he had gone before. Making for that destination, Satsu found an empty booth. He dialed his number and gave the news to Doctor Tam.

Satsu’s subsequent conversation now proved that he had gained new instructions. He repeated words that he heard from Doctor Tam, and added his own comments.

“Very well, Doctor Tam,” was his reply. “I shall wait until I see them. Then I shall call you from here. As you have said, Doctor Tam: It is very wise that I should not go back into the house until all is ready.”

Satsu strolled from the drug store. He walked away toward Laudring’s, but reversed his pace and kept strolling back and forth along an avenue. Carefully, he watched all cars that turned along side streets toward Laudring’s. Twenty minutes passed; the limit of Satsu’s hour had arrived.

A SEDAN swung from the avenue. Satsu caught a view of the man behind the wheel. He saw a yellow face, with lips that were speaking to another man in the front seat. Satsu watched the car roll away in darkness. He hurried back to the drug store.

A coupe swung from a side street before Satsu reached his destination; the Korean saw it stop near the drug store. A young man alighted and entered before Satsu arrived.

Both telephone booths were occupied when Satsu entered the store. The young man was in one, the druggist in the other, receiving an incoming call. Satsu studied the young man’s profile as he waited. He noted a keen expression on that clean-cut face. The druggist came out of the second booth; Satsu entered it. Thanks to the thinness of wall, he caught the young man’s final words.

“Thirty blocks straight up the avenue,” was the statement. “With only a half block at the start… Yes, that means three minutes more. I’ll be ready…”

The young man left the telephone booth. Satsu called Doctor Tam and spoke tersely.

“I have seen them… Yes, I shall return at once… Yes, you will hear from me afterward, Doctor Tam… Some of them; not all… I understand, Doctor Tam. The rest should be here with them…”

This time, Satsu was prompt in his return to Laudring’s. He chose the darkness at the rear of the house, gained the back door and entered the unlighted kitchen. Stealing into the hallway, Satsu listened; then tried the door that led to the cellar. It was locked. Satsu inserted the key; then, as an afterthought, went to the foot of the stairway.

Silence, only, from the second floor. Satsu could discern the glow of lights, reflected by the upper wall of the landing; but he was too far below to see the dead form of Hoang Fu.

After a few minutes, Satsu went back to the cellar door; he was about to turn the key that he had left there when he heard a sound from the kitchen.

Satsu had left the rear door unlocked; he knew that persons were entering. Ever cautious, the Korean pulled the key from the door and went rapidly toward the front parlor. He reached that destination just as footsteps were sounding in the dining room. A Chinaman entered the hall; four others followed.

All were dressed in American attire, but they spoke in their own tongue. One pointed toward the front of the hall; another motioned back toward the dining room. As they began to spread out, they did not watch the door that led to the cellar. One man had tried it; but moved away to babble that it was locked.

“Hoang Fu—”

Satsu caught a mention of the name as he reached to push aside a curtain and speak to these arrivals. Then the Korean stopped short as he caught a glimpse of one Chinaman turning toward the rear of the hall. A high-pitched babble had come from the guard stationed at the dining room.

Satsu understood the words. The guard was giving singsong news about the cellar door. Like a flash, the Chinamen snatched out weapons and herded toward the rear of the hall. As they made in that direction, Satsu heard a strange, uncanny laugh.

From his lookout post, the Korean saw blackness heave forward from that darkened area behind the stairway. He caught the outline of a living figure; again he heard the rising crescendo of a fierce, challenging laugh.

Five Chinamen were diving toward a cloaked shape in black. Three with revolvers, two with knives — their flashing weapons told of their desire for combat. Sole witness to the coming fray, Satsu was to see The Shadow do battle with these new invaders in this house of doom!