The Shadow's Justice

CHAPTER XII THE ALLIANCE

MR. BOSWICK?”

A prompt reply came to Harry’s question.

“Yes,” said a voice through the door. “What do you want?”

“I have an important message for you.”

A key turned. The door opened. Carter Boswick faced Harry Vincent in the dim light of the hall. Carter was fully dressed, except for coat and vest. He had evidently been taking a short nap. Harry was pleased at this sign of vigilance.

“My name is Vincent,” Harry explained. “I must talk with you. My room is down the hall — 222 — and it would be wise to go there.”

Suspicion showed in Carter Boswick’s eyes. Suspicion faded. Harry’s countenance was one that showed complete frankness. Carter realized that this unexpected visit must mean that trouble threatened. Harry looked like a friend.

Nodding his willingness to accompany the man who had come for him, Carter Boswick picked up his coat and vest from a chair beside the bed. Harry Vincent pointed to the other articles that could be seen from the hall — hat, overcoat, and two unpacked suitcases. He picked up the luggage while Carter took the hat and coat.

“Hurry along,” whispered Harry tensely. For the first time, The Shadow’s agent was beginning to realize the amount of time that had been consumed.

Harry preceded Carter along the hall. He noted the door of Room 215 as he passed. He turned to see if his companion was following him. Carter was some fifteen feet behind, just nearing the door of Stacks Lodi’s room.

Instantly, Harry discovered an impending menace. During the moment that Harry had passed, the door had opened, unobserved by Carter, who was not watching it. The door had swung inward, and Harry could see the figure of a man crouching just within the darkness.

“Look out!” Harry blurted the warning as the crouching man leaped forward.

Swift action followed. Carter Boswick turned just in time to encounter the attacker. The man’s uplifted arm was descending. The striking hand held a blackjack. With an instinctive defense, Carter struck the blow aside, and planted his fist against the side of the fellow’s head.

Harry, dropping the suitcases, had simultaneously sprung to the rescue. He arrived just as the attacker tumbled to the floor. He grabbed Carter Boswick’s arm, in a quick effort to draw his companion from the danger zone.

It was then that Carter blundered!

Forgetting that Harry had given the warning, he thought that he had been led into a trap. He took Harry’s present act as an indication of treachery. With an angry cry, he hurled himself upon the man who had befriended him.

AS the two young men struggled, the fellow with the blackjack came to his feet. It was Scully, Stacks Lodi’s assistant.

There was no need for silence now. With snarling lips, Scully sounded the cry for a general attack.

Three men, armed with gleaming revolvers, pounced forth from Room 215. Scully, backed against the wall, clutched his blackjack and gave the order for murder.

“Get both of them!” was his snarl. “One is the guy we want. Bump the other one, too!”

These words came just as Harry Vincent managed to wrest himself free from Carter Boswick’s grasp. In so doing, Harry had sent Carter spinning across the hall; Harry, in turn, was trying to catch himself against the wall. Both young men found themselves staring into the muzzles of revolvers.

Carter, in his staggering course, had stopped but two feet from where Scully stood. The gangster’s hand came up with the blackjack. The beginning of its downward swing was the final signal for cold murder.

Fingers waited on triggers, ready to fire as that blow fell. Scully’s action had brought a momentary lull, each villain ready to give their leader the opportunity for the first stroke.

As Scully’s wrist poised viciously above his head, a shot sounded from the window at the end of the hall. A bullet skimmed Scully’s unkempt hair, and struck the gangster’s wrist.

A fiendish cry of rage came from Scully’s bloated lips. The blackjack, as though plucked away by a hand from nowhere, snapped out of Scully’s fingers, and made a long parabola toward the ceiling. The gangster collapsed, clutching his right wrist with his left hand.

Harry Vincent knew the source of that timely shot. The Shadow must have scaled the pillars at the front of the hotel. Lying on the porch, he had watched Harry’s effort to lead Carter Boswick to safety.

Three armed gangsters! What did they matter now? The Shadow was there to pick them off. The cue was to drop out of danger, to give the hidden avenger a clear sweep.

A muffled shot sounded from the lobby below — a sign that Stacks Lodi had taken action there. But Harry Vincent scarcely heard it. He was dropping to the floor, away from the threatening guns, as he cried out to Carter Boswick to follow his example.

Harry’s warning was too late. Carter had already sprung to action. He was leaping forward to mill with the armed gangsters.

Harry groaned as he reached in his pocket for his own gun. How could The Shadow save Carter Boswick now?

Carter was wrestling with one of the gunmen, and had the fellow’s wrist in an iron clutch. The other gangsters swung to shoot. The grappling men were between them and the window, a protection against The Shadow’s fire.

The wrestling pair swerved. Carter Boswick’s stooping back caught the eye of the nearer gangster. The man stabbed the muzzle of his gun toward Carter’s back, and snarled in elation. But the very situation that gave the would-be killer his opportunity to slay was also the break for which The Shadow had been watching.

A spurt of flame accompanied the roar that came from the window. The gangster sprawled forward, beside the struggling men, the triumphant leer fading from his writhing lips. The other free gunman shouted in rage. Raising his revolver, he blazed uselessly at the open window. There was no response. The Shadow, lying low, had stayed his fire.

With gun in hand, Harry Vincent leaped to his feet and attacked the firing man from behind. He struck a hard blow at the villain’s head, but the man turned just in time to ward it off. He hurled Harry to the floor, and jabbed his revolver straight at Harry’s forehead.

Harry saw the approaching muzzle. He could see the evil, merciless face behind it. Yellowed teeth were displayed in a loathsome grin.

Then a shot boomed, seemingly from far away. The revolver flopped from the gangster’s fingers. The man’s eyes bulged; his lips closed; his body rolled sidewise to the floor.

As Harry’s gaze turned, he saw the termination of the fight between Carter Boswick and the one remaining gunman. All through the struggle, Carter had held the advantage until now. But a turn in the fray had enabled the gangster to wrest away. At this instant, his gun hand was free, aiming to kill.

Harry’s own revolver was in his hand. He swung it upward to prevent the kill. It was a belated gesture. Harry could never have beaten the gangster to the shot. But The Shadow’s unfailing hand still remained in readiness.

The final bullet sped from the window. The gangster received it in the heart. When Harry fired, his shots reached the falling body of a dead man. The Shadow, hidden marksman of the night, had accounted for all the opposition.

HARRY and Carter reached their feet. There was no hesitation now. Carter followed Harry’s lead. They hurried down the hall, carrying the suitcases with them. Scully, huddled and moaning on the floor, made no effort to stop them. His shattered wrist had ended his participation in the battle.

No explanations were necessary as Harry guided Carter through Room 222 and threw a suitcase out the window. Within twenty seconds, Carter’s two bags and Harry’s single one were gone; Carter dropped out when he heard the order, and Harry followed.

Three minutes later, the two young men were rolling out of Junction City in Harry’s coupe. Carter Boswick, tense and half bewildered, was staring at his companion. He realized now the importance of Harry’s warning, and knew that he had found a man on whom he could rely.

“Say, old fellow” — Carter’s voice was filled with gratitude — “you pulled me out of it tonight. I don’t know where we’re going, but—”

“We’re going to stick “together,” was Harry’s response.

“Right!” agreed Carter, with emphasis. “Say, old man, something tells me that this may just be the beginning. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’ve kept it from every one, because I didn’t know whom I could trust. But you’re one hundred per cent. You’re game enough to chance it with me.”

Harry’s right hand moved from the steering wheel. Carter caught it in a firm grasp. The two men held a prolonged clasp that betokened mutual confidence. No further words were necessary.

Harry Vincent, in the service of The Shadow, had formed an alliance with Carter Boswick, the man who sought the wealth that was his heritage. From now on, the quest would be theirs together!