The Shadow's Shadow

CHAPTER XXVI THE BREAK

A TIMELY comer to this desperate scene, The Shadow, tall and imposing, dominated the group in Stanford Devaux’s study. The presence of this superman held an awe-inspiring effect over all.

To Douglas Carleton, it meant an end to fiendish schemes; to Shelton Milbrook, it signified an amazing deliverance from certain doom.

The wounded gangster lay writhing on the floor; his gun a dozen feet from his helpless clutch. No one noticed him. All were staring at The Shadow. The two other gunmen had dropped their weapons. They stood with upraised hands, and Felix Zubian had joined them.

A low laugh came from hidden lips, as the glowing eyes of The Shadow seared the startled minds of the guilty men who had sought to kill. Those eyes turned upon Douglas Carleton. They moved to Felix Zubian. The Shadow laughed again.

“Felix Zubian,” declared The Shadow in an ominous whisper, “you are guilty because you planned this crime.”

The face beneath the mask turned white. Zubian’s frame trembled as The Shadow approached the center of the room. Turning his withering glance, the being in black surveyed Douglas Carleton, who sought to evade those burning eyes.

“You, Douglas Carleton,” came The Shadow’s eerie whisper, “are a traitor. You have stooped to the lowest form of crime!”

The Shadow paused. His eyes swept searchingly about the room. His automatics, looking huge in his gloved hands, were weapons that no one dared defy. The Shadow laughed as his eagle gaze fell upon Stanford Devaux.

“There is one,” declared The Shadow, in a cold, shuddering tone, “whose crime is greater than that of all the others. One man has plotted to rob; to kill; to betray — and at the same time retain his garb of high respectability.

“One man here has stooped to the lowest of all crimes. One would sacrifice his daughter to marriage with another crook in order to further the schemes of pillage and bloodshed that he has financed.

“That man stands before me now. You are that wretch, Stanford Devaux!”

The truth of The Shadow’s words were apparent. Devaux, his eyes wild, his raised hands clawing, showed his guilt. Shelton Milbrook was staring coldly; this truth had come home to him. Virginia Devaux was sobbing.

The Shadow’s words had explained a fact that Felix Zubian had guessed the night before: that Douglas Carleton was but a tool in the hands of a plotter who schemed to accomplish nefarious deeds with no danger to himself.

It was plain why Devaux had favored his daughter’s engagement to Carleton; it was clear why Devaux had told Milbrook to bring the diamonds here to-night; it was obvious from what source the funds had come to aid Carleton in his plans for international crime.

The plotters were uncovered by The Shadow. Murder had been stopped to-night; and future crimes of vast proportions had been nipped in the bud.

There was no escaping The Shadow’s power. Neither Zubian nor Carleton, cowering wretches both, dared offer resistance to that terrible being in black.

IT was Devaux who supplied the unexpected action. Although he should have realized that the cause was hopeless, the cringing villain gained an insane desire for action.

With a wild spring, Devaux leaped forward upon the avenging form that towered above him. With no thought of the death that was awaiting, he sought to overpower The Shadow.

This act was not anticipated by The Shadow. Before the black-clad master could respond, the attacker was upon him.

The Shadow staggered backward in the clutches of the superfiend. A wild cry of triumph came from Devaux’s followers. They leaped to action to aid in the battle with The Shadow.

The roar of an automatic thundered through the room. Stanford Devaux’s form rolled to the floor. The Shadow had downed his fiendish foe.

Zubian and Carleton were coming forward; both had guns, and with them were the two gangsters. At the same time, Monroe, the detective, leaped for his revolver, while Shelton Milbrook pounced upon his own weapons.

Despite the plight of the man who had rescued him, Milbrook recognized another duty. Grasping the diamond belt and his brace of weapons, he seized Virginia Devaux and swept the girl to the safety of the adjoining room. He turned back to aid The Shadow, whose fierce fight was evidenced by the shots that still roared in the room behind.

At the door, Milbrook saw a scene of chaos. Douglas Carleton was Iying prone upon the floor; the two gunmen were sprawled beside him. Over beyond was Monroe, the detective, wounded in the fray. Milbrook saw no sign of the masked man — the one whom The Shadow had called Felix Zubian.

But he saw The Shadow! Rising from the floor, phoenixlike, amid the huddled remains of his enemies, the black-clad fighter was pealing forth his mocking laugh of triumph!