The Green Box

CHAPTER XXIII GRIFF’S STRATEGY

THE Southfield city hall was half a block from the railway depot. The eastbound D & O Limited was standing in the station as Griff’s car headed in that direction. A locomotive, with three baggage cars attached, was panting while a shifting engine shunted a dining car toward a siding.

The engineer and fireman were standing beside the locomotive. They were listening to the crackle of gunfire that came from far up the main street. Passengers, too, were on the station platform, wondering if civil war had broken loose in Southfield.

The limited had cleared the railway crossing where the main street passed over the tracks. On the other side, a freight was making up. The front half of the train was separated from the back, so that the crossing would not be closed.

The two vigilantes whom Griff had dispatched were heading straight for the freight locomotive. It was only a short dash between two buildings. They were at their objective in less than twenty seconds.

Griff, as he jerked the touring car out into the main street, was quick to glance along the thoroughfare behind him. Traffic had ducked for side streets. Only one car was in view. It was pulling from the curb at a corner near the Southfield House.

Griff fumed an oath. He knew who was in that car. Ever since his leap from the window in Farrow’s office, Griff had realized that his henchmen could not stop The Shadow. Yet despite his anger, Griff wore a fierce grin. His strategy had not yet ended.

The touring car bounded as it struck the rails of the grade crossing. It swiped sidewise and Griff jammed at the brakes. He straightened the car as it shot between the halves of the freight train.

Up ahead, Griff’s vigilantes had clambered into the freight engine. One had pounced upon the fireman. The other met the engineer. A swift punch to the jaw. The engineer crumpled. The vigilante who had struck him down grabbed a lever. Looking backward along the train, he saw Griff’s touring car shoot through the break in the train. The vigilante pulled a lever.

The freight cars buckled as the front half of the train went into reverse. While a watchman cried an excited warning, the front of the train came backing over the crossing. No brakes were applied. The first of the moving cars smashed into the rear half of the train.

Loud rattles echoed all along the siding. The rear car of the joined train was jammed against the bumper of the side-track. Cars buckled and toppled from the rails as the engine wheels drove backward. Then the vigilante yanked the lever. The train was stopped. Its derailed cars formed a barrier across the only grade crossing which would serve the pursuers of Eric Griffel.

A COUPE, hurtling up to the grade crossing, made a sudden swerve as the freight cars buckled in its path. Too late to avoid a crash with the brakes alone, the driver swerved and headed his car along beside the track.

The coupe narrowly escaped a toppling freight car. Again it swerved, bounded over rails and came to a stop close by the side of the second baggage car of the D & O Limited.

The door of the coupe opened. A tall form emerged. It was The Shadow. He had made a quick pursuit, once he had cleared away the blocking vigilantes. Where Griff’s men had failed, the jammed cars of the freight had preserved an obstacle which The Shadow could not pass.

The half-wrecked coupe was evidence of Griff’s unexpected strategy. Less than a hundred yards behind the vigilante and the crooked men of wealth, The Shadow had been stopped.

A soft laugh came from The Shadow’s lips. His tall form stood unseen. He was on the side of the baggage cars away from the station platform. With swift pace, The Shadow hurried forward. He knew the only road that the escaping men had taken.

Black against the side of the black locomotive, The Shadow was totally unseen as he climbed the steps of the panting Mogul. His sharp eyes, peering from beside the cab, spied the engineer and fireman on the platform beside their engine.

As The Shadow entered the right side of the cab, a sedan came speeding up to the station. A young man leaped from the car and dashed across the platform. It was Norton Granger. He shouted at the conductor:

“Did they get on the train?”

“Who?”

“Three men — four — making a getaway—”

“They took the grade crossing. The freight has blocked it. Something must have gone wrong, backing in like that—”

Norton Granger stared. The engineer and fireman of the limited were moving down the platform to see what had happened to the freight. So had others. Wild-eyed, Granger realized what had happened.

A thunderous chug came from the locomotive of the limited. Then another. The wheels revolved. Weighted by only three cars, the huge Mogul responded quickly to the pull of the throttle.

A cry came from the engineer. With the fireman, he started up along the platform. The conductor had left; Norton Granger was standing alone. A sudden inspiration struck him.

With a leap, the young lawyer gained the side of the moving locomotive. He swung aboard as the big engine gathered speed. Engineer and fireman were on their way. They were losing in the race.

Aided by the slight down grade, unhandicapped by extra cars, the big locomotive was pulling out with unusual speed. Its glaring headlight was burning down the track. Its huge wheels were rattling over switches as the train headed for the open track beyond the yards.

In the left side of the cab, Norton Granger panted from his short run. He gazed through the front window; then nodded as he understood. Only one person could have sprung this swift scheme of pursuit. That was the one who had appeared to deliver timely aid in Slade Farrow’s store room.

The Shadow was at the throttle. Norton Granger did not know the identity of the black-clad stranger. He realized only that The Shadow, like himself, was anxious to stop the flight of Eric Griffel and the three men with him.

Through The Shadow, Ferris Legrand’s name had been cleared. Nothing now could remain a barrier between Norton Granger and the girl he loved. Justice, however, must be done. The men who had brought about the death of Wilbur Granger must be stopped in their mad escape.

Springing from his side of the cab, Norton Granger yanked open the door of the fire-box and began to shovel coal. Stoking fuel from the tender, he was lending aid to The Shadow’s purpose.

The thundering locomotive was on the trail of escaping men of crime. The Shadow, grim messenger of vengeance, had pulled the throttle wide!