The Living Joss

CHAPTER XXVI. THE ROOM BELOW

IN a square-walled chamber directly beneath his temple, Kwa, the Living Joss, stood staring upward.

Beside the superfiend were the mechanical contrivances with which he had worked his amazing feats.

A skeleton plunger, topped with a flat seat, pointed directly toward the ceiling. This was the heavy-springed device which enabled Kwa to appear and vanish with such suddenness. The top of the plunger was designed as the solid seat of the taboret which served as the throne in Kwa’s temple.

A tank was connected by a hose to jets which entered the ceiling. These supplied the incense burners. A second tank stood beside the first. Kwa had disconnected the automatic container which produced the smoke; in its place, he had quickly put the new tank, which was now pouring forth its overwhelming vapor.

The long hand of Kwa, an ugly claw with its extended finger nails, was resting on a lever which controlled the supply of deadly gas. Purple doom was rising to meet the foes of Kwa!

The glaring eyes of Kwa turned toward the wall at the right of the room. The gloating gleam vanished from those insidious orbs. That wall was the beginning of the path which this monster had designed for his escape. Slowly, the wall was spreading at the center!

Kwa held no weapon. His fiendish mind sensed an unexpected menace. Someone was coming through that barrier — some unknown enemy who had found Kwa’s own underground passage! With a wild snarl, the Living Joss sprang to the opposite side of the room and clutched a lever with his clawing fist. As the right wall opened under pressure from without, this wall on the left separated also!

As Kwa dived through the spreading barrier, a black-garbed figure appeared at the opening in the opposite wall. The Shadow had broken the last barricade. He was in the heart of Kwa’s domain, beneath the temple itself.

An automatic roared. Its shot was a moment too late. Kwa, with remarkable quickness, had closed the barrier through which he had escaped the menace of The Shadow.

A mocking laugh came from The Shadow’s lips.

IN the dim light of this control room, the master of the night had spied the gas tank with its connected hose and opened lever. With one swift stride, The Shadow reached the instrument of death and pulled the switch. That action stopped the passage of the deadly vapor. Cardona and his men, helpless in the temple above, were saved from doom!

The Shadow turned to the barrier which Kwa had closed. The fiend had jammed it from the other side. If this way led to another secret exit, Kwa’s escape would be a matter of course. The Shadow strove to wedge the curtained wall apart.

His first efforts failed. Then, with a sardonic laugh, the black-cloaked master brought forth two vials. One contained a grayish powder; the other a black substance that resembled graphite.

Sprinkling these together near the bottom of the creviced wall, The Shadow produced a small bottle and poured a liquid upon the united powders. Springing across the room, The Shadow gained the entrance through which he had forced his way. He reached the passage beyond, and shut the barrier behind him.

Long silence reigned in the control room. Then came a dull but powerful blast. The chemical action of liquid and powders had broken the barrier through which Kwa had passed. Strong fumes subsided.

During that interval, The Shadow waited.

Pounding sounded from above. Cardona and his men were back at work. They were smashing down the heavy taboret. They had discovered the elevator opening in its center.

The eyes of The Shadow were peering through a narrow crevice. The slight opening closed as a detective dropped down through the hole from the ceiling. Another man followed. They called to those above. Cardona dropped through; then Markham.

The sleuths spied the broken barrier which marked the path of Kwa. They took it as the only exit to the control room. With a call to the others to remain above, Cardona led the charge into a narrow passage.

Twenty-five feet of stone tunnel to a room at the end. Cardona uttered a cry of triumph as he reached the end, and saw a lean form sprawled upon a tawdry cot in the corner. His shout changed to apprehension as he approached the motionless figure.

This was not Kwa! It was the man whom the detective had come to rescue — Barton Schofield!

For a few moments, Cardona was afraid that the old banker was dead. But as the detective raised the gray-haired head and stared into the pallid face, Schofield’s eyelids flickered, and he stared dully into the detective’s eyes.

“Where is he?” questioned Cardona. “Where is Zelka — Kwa — the one we want? Which way did he go?”

Schofield was too weak to reply. One of the detectives, however, uttered a shout of discovery as he spied an open passage in the dim corner of this stonewall cell. Resting Schofield back upon the cot, Cardona hurried to the spot, and shot the rays of his torch down a short passage that ended in an abrupt turn.

Calling upon the others to follow, the ace detective took the one course which seemed available.

Markham and the other sleuths followed him with drawn revolvers. Barton Schofield was alone.

Wearily, the old man tried to raise his head. His feeble efforts to find his rescuers were rewarded with increased strength. Schofield gained his feet. He saw the black opening, and tottered in that direction. He stumbled, caught himself, and straightened as he placed his hand upon a door that was open beside the exit through which the sleuths had passed.

A sudden sound made the old man turn. Looking toward the outer door, Barton Schofield saw a menacing figure garbed in black. An automatic jutted from a black-gloved fist.

The eyes of The Shadow burned; a weird, sinister laugh echoed from mocking lips!