The Shadow Laughs

CHAPTER XXXI ENTER THE SHADOW

There was scarcely a sound in the cavern as the water continued to rise in the pit. None of the five rogues spoke; the prisoners did not cry out. Only the gurgle of the increasing flood broke the stillness.

Blair Windsor stared at the tunnel that led to his home. He could not watch the pit. Let the others gloat. Death, to him, was a solemn matter.

The blackness at the end of the tunnel seemed like a solid wall. Blair Windsor’s mind was concentrated upon it, as he sought to forget the gruesome work that was taking place a few feet away.

“They’re pretty near under,” observed Birdie Crull, with a chuckle. “No! They’ve just pulled a cute trick. They’ve pulled their faces up against the grating. We can give them five minutes yet.”

The seconds went by monotonously for Blair Windsor. He still stared at that black opening. He imagined it to be a solid structure.

Suddenly he detected motion. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. The end of the tunnel was projecting itself into the cavern!

It was impossible!

Yet he was not mistaken. A portion of the blackness entered the cavern. For an instant it seemed to be a shapeless mass; then it suddenly took form.

A figure stood in the light — the figure of a living being, clad in a black cloak, wearing a broad-brimmed slouch hat that totally obscured his face.

Birdie Crull looked up suddenly as an involuntary exclamation came from Blair Windsor’s lips.

“The Shadow!”

The words were uttered by Birdie Crull. A look of intense fear came over the gunman’s features. He clambered to his feet, away from the grating.

Two automatics appeared from beneath the black cloak. They covered the four men: Crull, Windsor, Vernon, and Jerry. The counterfeiters raised their hands instinctively. They needed no command to make them fear the menace of The Shadow.

The figure moved to the center of the cavern. It stood above the pit, where the two men were fighting for life. Their faces were pressed against the grating. The water was nearly above their heads. In less than one minute their doom would have been sealed.

There was a motion at the bottom of the black cloak. The hose was kicked aside. Its flood poured along the floor of the cavern. The lives of the prisoners were saved for the time.

The Shadow turned toward Blair Windsor. He spoke now for the first time. His voice was ominous — it came in a low, sinister whisper.

“Open the grating,” were his words.

Blair Windsor stood helplessly. He did not have the key. It was in the possession of Isaac Coffran.

He could see the old man cowering fearfully in the corner — out of The Shadow’s view. What should he reply?

Birdie Crull realized the situation. Fear had gripped the brutal gunman, but by an effort he endeavored to mislead the man in the black cloak.

“We have no key,” he said.

“Break the lock,” was The Shadow’s command.

Birdie Crull stepped forward as if to obey. He made as much noise as possible. Looking beyond The Shadow, he saw Isaac Coffran reaching stealthily along the floor. The old man’s objective was an automatic — one of those which Marquette had thrown in the corner, after he had disarmed the counterfeiters.

By holding The Shadow’s attention, Birdie Crull hoped to keep the man in black from detecting the presence of Isaac Coffran. Birdie Crull’s poker face gave no sign of what was in his mind.

The gunman reached the grating just as Isaac Coffran picked up the automatic. Crull lowered his hands, and stooped to fumble with the lock. He was only a few feet from The Shadow.

At the instant Birdie Crull began to shake the padlock, Isaac Coffran raised his arm and fired point-blank at the tall man in the black cloak.

Quick as a flash, The Shadow whirled backward and away from the grating. The old man’s shot had evidently missed. But now came his real opportunity.

For The Shadow encountered the box of counterfeit money. As he tripped against it, he nearly lost his balance.

Before he could raise his automatics to fire a return shot, he formed a perfect target for Isaac Coffran’s aim.

The old man’s hand was steady now. He had hoped for this. His automatic spat three times. A satanic sneer appeared upon his face as he watched The Shadow, expecting the tall form to crumple.

But The Shadow did not fall!

The automatic which Isaac Coffran had seized was the one which Blair Windsor had given to Harry Vincent. Birdie Crull had pocketed it; Vic Marquette had taken it from him. Six of its blank cartridges had been used by Vincent; Isaac Coffran had fired the other four!

The Shadow did not return the shots. Instinctively, he scented danger from another direction; Jerry, profiting by the sudden change in the situation, was whipping a gun from his pocket.

The Shadow sank to the floor. For an instant, Isaac Coffran still believed that his shots had found their mark. But the move of the fighter in black was voluntary; made with definite purpose.

Jerry’s revolver barked, but the bullet whizzed above the broad-brimmed hat. Then came an answering report from one of The Shadow’s automatics.

Jerry’s right arm fell helpless at his side. His gun slipped from his nerveless fingers.

Isaac Coffran was not yet foiled. He had a moment in which to work. His position was an excellent one; the switch that controlled the lights of the cavern was less than ten feet away.

With youthful agility, the old man sprang toward the desired spot. The Shadow, wheeling, fired a single shot. It was aimed while in motion; yet it would have found its mark in Isaac Coffran’s wrist, but for the intervention of a rod that projected from the printing press.

The bullet was deflected. Isaac Coffran reached his objective. He extinguished the light; the room was plunged in darkness.

Like rats, the counterfeiters scurried from the cavern. Their one desire was to escape the wrath of The Shadow. They did not know that the eyes of that mysterious foe were accustomed to the dark; that he could discern their departing forms.

It was only because he had observed something else that he chose to let them flee in safety. Birdie Crull, before he joined the mad departure, had thrust the end of the hose above the grating.

The water was now completely above the heads of the imprisoned men. The Shadow had other work to do.

A spurt of flame came from the muzzle of his automatic. The bullet shattered the strong padlock. Dropping his gun, the rescuer in the black cloak clutched the bars of the heavy grating.

It had taken the efforts of two men to lift it; now he pulled it upward as though it were made of paper.

His powerful hands caught the two prisoners — one hand beneath an arm of each. The steel-like grip did not falter. Harry Vincent and Vic Marquette were raised from the pit to which they had been doomed. Gasping for breath, they rolled upon the floor of the cavern.

Out of darkness The Shadow had come. In a few brief minutes he had outwitted his opponents. He had rescued the two men who had been at the point of death.

Yet there was still work for The Shadow. The enemy had escaped. They must be pursued.

The mysterious avenger of the dark was ready for the chase.

The Shadow never yielded.