The Golden Grotto

CHAPTER XI THE SHADOW FIGHTS

SIMULTANEOUSLY with the discharge of the gangster’s revolver, the form of The Shadow had dropped toward the floor beside the wall. That action had been voluntary on The Shadow’s part. His perceptive eyes had been on the gangster’s revolver while his own hands were clutching his ready automatics.

On the defense, The Shadow was as swift as when he launched an offensive. He was a master of the counter-attack. He knew that the gunman at the door was aiming for his heart. Thus, he had dropped at the crucial instant, just as the finger was about to press the trigger.

The swift, sidewise motion of The Shadow’s fall was gauged to perfection. Jimmy’s bullet whistled past the folds of the black cloak, and buried itself in the wall.

The Shadow’s fall was instinctive and unrestrained. But as he dropped upon his side, the black-clad master extended his right elbow and broke the fall at an angle. The right hand, bringing forth its gun, turned upon a pivoting forearm.

As Jimmy, the would-be killer, leaped forward and aimed downward for a second and more certain shot, a terrific burst of flame shot forth from The Shadow’s automatic.

Sprawling, the gangster fell headlong across the bodies of the murdered servants. The Shadow’s first shot had killed the man who had sought to slay him.

Two men were prompt to take up the cause of the dead gangster. Duke, at Jimmy’s heels, and Bart, from the next room, were ready with their guns. But The Shadow, though almost prone, was now equipped to overpower them. No gangster had ever beaten The Shadow to a shot when the start was even.

The difficulty now lay in the fact that there were two opponents, each coming from a different direction. To concentrate upon one would be to give opportunity to the other.

The Shadow had seen Duke; he also knew that Bart was approaching from the other room. As his right hand aimed toward Duke, his left, with the second deadly automatic, turned toward the door to the dining room.

The right hand pressed the trigger once, while the burning eyes of The Shadow glared squarely at the muzzle of Duke’s upcoming revolver. That gangster never fired. Like Jimmy, he was laid low by the first shot in his direction.

The left hand of The Shadow performed another operation. The firm forefinger pressed the trigger of the automatic, and held it firmly while the hand moved across the doorway.

The result was a raking fire — a spatter of bullets that burst forth at varying angles. Bart, raising his gun to shoot, encountered the barrage.

He fell also, with two bullets in his body. The deadly aim of The Shadow had eliminated three murderous men, while The Shadow himself remained unscathed.

There had been another purpose in The Shadow’s barrage toward the door through which Bart had entered. Those rapid-fire shots were a warning to the car approaching along the driveway. They were delivered in time to give Frederick a chance to wheel along a side lane.

ON his feet, The Shadow was springing toward the door of the dining room. The headlights of the big car showed off beyond the side of the house. By a swift exit through the window, The Shadow could attend to affairs out there.

As he swept through the door, The Shadow raised his automatic and fired point-blank through the window. Down went the body of the man who had sent Bart through. With the first gunfire, that mobster had come over the window ledge with drawn revolver. Before he had moved farther, The Shadow had arrived.

Once again, the supremacy of The Shadow had asserted itself. The automatic had spoken before the revolver had a chance. Another rat of the underworld had fallen before The Shadow’s aim.

Gangsters were storming through the front door into the living room. The Shadow had broken into a veritable swarm of mobsters. The incoming ruffians found the bodies of the three who had fallen, and with cries of vengeance, a pair of them dashed into the room where The Shadow had gone.

The black-clad battler was at the window. Seeing the way clear before him, he vaulted the sill with one leap, and landed on the ground beneath. Shots followed a split second later, and the gangsters dashed forward, believing that they had downed their quarry.

The head and shoulders of The Shadow rose quickly above the level of the sill. The muzzle of an automatic spat tongues of flame from beside the gleaming eyes. The gangsters dropped in their tracks, and those behind them scattered.

Turning, The Shadow faced across the carpety lawn, and now his mocking laugh burst forth in ringing tones that struck terror into the hearts of those who heard it. Invisible against the dark wall of the house, The Shadow was a conquering menace that defied all attack. He had broken the morale of this stout horde of gangsters. Six murderous men lay silent as a tribute to his power.

There, in the dark, The Shadow still sent forth his gibing mirth as a challenge to those who remained. His unseen hands slipped the emptied automatics beneath the folds of the black cloak and drew forth another pair of weapons.

With victory virtually accomplished, The Shadow had a new objective. That was the scattering of mobsters who had run down the driveway to intercept the automobile. The shots from the house had warned Frederick. They had also caused the gangsters who were after the car to hesitate in launching their attack.

Had the chauffeur shown a modicum of initiative, he could easily have escaped with the two girls who were in the car. But Frederick had not proven equal to the occasion. He had lost his nerve, and the car, now headed back the road along which it had come, stood motionless as the frightened screams of girls issued from its interior.

As The Shadow turned to view the car, half a dozen mobsters were already upon the running boards. They were climbing into the vehicle. A shot sounded, and Frederick paid the penalty for his delay. The body of the chauffeur was precipitated from a door.

The range was long, but The Shadow found it. As he swept forward, The Shadow fired, and his well-aimed bullets found their marks.

One mobsman — a second — a third — all tumbled from the side of the big car like tenpins. One man, however, had gained the wheel, and the huge car lunged forward on a mad careen. It was too late, now. The Shadow could not risk a bullet in a tire. The resultant crash might have proven fatal to the captured girls.

PURSUIT was the only course. The Shadow swept across the lawn. Wild cries came from the front door of the house, where the last of the frenzied gangsters had withdrawn. Their staring eyes caught a glimpse of the black-clad form speeding across the lawn. They fired wildly. The answer was a taunting peal of laughter that voiced the sardonic mirth of The Shadow.

Cars were standing in front of the house; these vehicles were the ones in which the mobsmen had come.

Realizing that The Shadow had begun a pursuit, the frenzied mobsmen rushed to their cars, and started along the drive. Three in a row, they came, to cut off The Shadow from his mission.

As the first car neared the side lane where The Shadow had parked and hidden his coupe, quick shots rang out. The mobsman at the wheel collapsed. His car left his control and shot crazily across the lawn, crashing into a row of trees. The evil crew was buried beneath the overturning car.

The second driver, crouching low, tried to run the gantlet, while two of his companions arose to fire at the coupe. The glare of headlights showed their forms above the tonneau of the open-topped touring car. Swift shots from The Shadow’s guns winged these defiant mobsmen. One man collapsed upon the seat; the other flung his arms apart, and plunged headlong upon the drive.

Two more shots followed. They were directed at the tires. They found their mark. The car swerved widely as the driver tried to take the turn in the road. Like the first vehicle, it skidded across the lawn and came to a sudden, crashing stop amid the trees.

As the third car stopped short, The Shadow’s coupe shot forward from the side drive. Seeing the action, the gangster driver urged his car forward to block the only avenue of escape.

The Shadow did not falter. He smashed squarely into the side of the gangsters’ car, a low-built sedan.

As the mobsmen in the rear opened fire from the windows, their shots were directed upward as the force of The Shadow’s coupe hurled the sedan upon its side.

Frantic screams sounded as the car toppled off the drive and turned completely over. The crash was terrific. Yet The Shadow, in his handling of the coupe, had used the utmost skill.

The heavy bumper had served as a powerful battering-ram. The quick application of the brakes, immediately after the smash, had kept the coupe from overturning also. The sedan had toppled away; The Shadow had only to swing his car along the main drive.

Damaged only superficially, the coupe was capable of taking up the pursuit of the captured girls.

A few hopeless shots sounded in the wake of The Shadow’s car. Some gangsters had escaped with but slight injuries. They were vainly trying to prevent The Shadow’s chase.

Nothing could withstand the indomitable purpose of the black-garbed avenger. His only handicap now was the time element. The stolen car with the kidnaped girls had gained a valuable start.

Whirling along the maze of narrow drives, The Shadow picked his course with keen intuition. He sensed that the flight would be toward the Sound — not along the main highway a mile from the stone gates.

WITHIN a few minutes, he was skirting the calm waters of Long Island Sound, speeding madly along the narrow road which he had so quickly discovered. There was no sign of the big car; but The Shadow kept on, at a pace which surely meant he must be gaining.

The road turned sharply away from the Sound. A moment later, the headlights of the coupe showed a byroad leading toward the water.

The brakes took hold, and none too soon. Not more than twenty yards ahead, a red-lighted obstruction showed across the center of a curve. The coupe shot backward to the side road. The firm hand at the wheel turned the trim vehicle toward the Sound.

Jouncing and swerving from side to side, the coupe plunged along the bumpy road. It reached a downward grade, and coasted toward the whiteness of a little dock that jutted out into the placid water. The headlights revealed the Cathcart car near the end of the dock.

The muzzle of an automatic peered from the window beside the driver’s seat as The Shadow brought the coupe alongside the stolen car. With gun ready to meet any attack, The Shadow opened the door of his car and stepped to the dock.

His caution immediately ended. Those sharp eyes that peered from beneath the slouch hat could see that the big car was empty.

This was the end of the pursuit. The fleeing gangsters had been fortunate. Their route had not been too long; their gap of time had been sufficient. They had reached the appointed spot soon enough to escape with their prisoners before the arrival of The Shadow.

A vague splotch of blackness glided along the surface of the white-painted dock as The Shadow moved to the extreme end. Keen eyes stared at the waters beneath. They saw the rippling wavelets that remained as proof that a boat had cleared from this spot not long before.

The Shadow listened, and to his ears came a low, incessant murmur that would have been inaudible to the average man. It was the distant thrum of a smooth-powered motor craft — some mystery ship that had come here by special order to await arrival of the expected prisoners.

Tonight, The Shadow had fought with crime. Both odds and fates had been against him. He had encountered the unexpected at every turn. The scheme of a master plotter had succeeded; but The Shadow had taken heavy toll.

Two girls had been captured; three faithful servants had been murdered. Those who had perpetrated the deeds had sought also to end the career of The Shadow. In that, they had failed. Slaughtered and wounded mobsmen remained as mute testimony to The Shadow’s might.

Gloom would fill the bad lands when news of this episode filtered there. The gang leader who had acted upon the bidding of a man higher up had succeeded — but he had lost his mob in the effort. Only luck had prevented The Shadow from annihilating the entire crew of mobsmen and rescuing the captured girls.

What was the motive of this kidnaping? What boat had lain here in readiness? Who was the man behind these strange events?

Those were facts that only The Shadow could divine; and the low, sinister laugh that rippled above the darkened waters was proof of The Shadow’s purpose.

An evil scheme had succeeded tonight. It was but one of many crimes. To The Shadow belonged the task of solving this mystery, and ending the career of the master plotter.