The big shot obeyed.
“Call detective headquarters,” ordered The Shadow. “Ask for Detective Joe Cardona. Tell him who you are. Tell him you are waiting for him. That is all. Remember” - the tone was ominous - “one word concerning my presence here will seal your lips with the cold rigidity of permanent doom -“
Pangs of terror brought convulsive shudders to King Furzman’s stout frame. The big shot’s knees were quaking, his hands could scarcely lift the telephone. In a quavering voice, the man called as directed.
He could hear The Shadow’s whisper coming closer; staring, he saw the black cloak swish and show its crimson lining as The Shadow moved to a point no more than a yard away.
“Your man Gouger,” warned The Shadow, “has completed his search for me. He is in the other room. He does not know that I am here. He - like yourself - belongs to the police -“
A voice was clicking over the wire. The Shadow’s sinister tones ended. King Furzman, fighting for his life, asked weakly for Joe Cardona. He heard the reply that Cardona himself was on the wire.
“This is King Furzman,” said the big shot, pathetically. “I’m in my own apartment, Cardona. I - I want to talk to you here” - Furzman’s voice broke as his eyes stared toward the glowing orbs that were The Shadow’s eyes - “I - I was in on those bank robberies yesterday. The dough is here - in the wall of this room -“
Furzman’s lips were twitching, his eyes were moving furtively, trying to escape the terrible gaze of The Shadow. Suddenly, they became transfixed with a gleam of wild hope as they saw beyond the shoulders of the black-clad master. With a short gasp, Furzman stepped back a little. The telephone dropped from his hands.
There was a swish as The Shadow whirled. Furzman’s sudden gaze, his defensive action - both were indicative, but The Shadow’s keen intuition was already working when the signal came.
Before the telephone had clattered to the floor, The Shadow was facing the draped archway where the figure of a man was looming in the darkness of the room beyond.
Gouger was there. Purely by chance, the bodyguard had come back over the trail which he had taken through the anteroom. Arriving in the darkened space between anteroom and reception room, he had heard the sound of King Furzman’s voice.
THE instant that he had observed the blotting form of The Shadow, Gouger had drawn his revolver to point it toward the menacing figure in black. Swift in action, steady in aim, Gouger had acted with prompt precision; but as his finger touched the trigger, The Shadow, miraculously alert, had swung.
A mere turn would not have sufficed. The Shadow’s whirl, however, was a sweeping move. As his tall form swung, it whisked to the right, just as Gouger’s revolver blazed from the darkened room.
A bullet singed the left shoulder of the long black cloak. The Shadow’s lips responded with a mocking cry of laughter - a weird peal that was no longer hushed.
While taunting mirth rang through the room, Gouger swung his revolver toward the enemy in black. His finger, still upon the trigger, was about to loose a second bullet when a terrific roar came from The Shadow’s automatic.
The shot was perfect. Beyond the archway, Gouger tottered. The bodyguard’s revolver fell from the useless hand which held it. Gouger collapsed upon the floor.
If Gouger was prompt in action, so was King Furzman. The revolver shot from the other room dispelled the power of The Shadow, so far as the big shot was concerned.
With the first spurt of flame, King Furzman’s nerve came back to him. His hand sped to his pocket. His fingers yanked forth the revolver that was there. On the upswing, the big shot drew his weapon just as The Shadow’s shot felled Gouger.
With that shot, The Shadow turned. Furzman’s upward-moving revolver was racing with the automatic that came in a wide sweep as The Shadow whirled back to meet his first enemy. Both guns reached their aiming points at the same instant. Two reports sounded as one.
But another phenomenon occurred. The form of The Shadow seemed to collapse a split second before his finger pressed the trigger. King Furzman remained bolt upright.
When the guns boomed, both figures were momentarily motionless; then, as The Shadow’s form became erect, King Furzman’s body swayed and crumpled. His revolver slipped to the floor beside him.
The Shadow’s wits had prevailed. Simultaneous shots, each delivered with quick accuracy, had gone forth from rival guns. But The Shadow had dropped away from Furzman’s aim.
The big shot’s bullet, aimed for The Shadow’s heart, had done no more than clip the upper edge of the black slouch hat. The Shadow’s bullet, with Furzman’s body as its target, had found its appointed mark.
A SARDONIC laugh came from The Shadow’s lips. The tone seemed to carry a note of tragedy. Once again, The Shadow had performed swift deeds that were essential to his ceaseless war against men of crime. The fallen telephone, connected directly with detective headquarters, had recorded the shots of the unexpected fray.
Forces of the law would be on their way, to find that grim justice had been delivered; yet the part which The Shadow had played would never be known. Such was The Shadow’s method.
He had offered King Furzman a chance to live; the big shot had sought to kill him in return. King Furzman, therefore, had received the reward which he deserved.
Swiftly, The Shadow went to the wall and opened the panel of which Furzman had spoken. He turned the combination of the safe and loosed its metal door. He then closed the panel so the opening would have to be discovered by the searching detectives. King Furzman had admitted to Cardona that the stolen bank funds were in the wall of this room.
The black cloak swished. Swiftly, The Shadow glided away. He passed through the anteroom and left the outer door unlocked. His tall form disappeared down a stairway at the end of the corridor.
The Shadow had gained the information that he sought. Graham Wellerton, speeding westward with his mob, would be due for a surprise. King Furzman, the big shot, had spoken. He had given out the facts which he had heard from his lieutenant.
King Furzman, alone, had known his lieutenant’s plans. Now The Shadow knew them also. Knowing where crime was due to fall, The Shadow would be there to strike!
CHAPTER VII
CHANCE INTERVENES
THREE long minutes elapsed after the departure of The Shadow. The corridor outside of King Furzman’s apartment was silent and undisturbed. Then came the clang of an opening door. A man stepped out from an elevator which had stopped at the fourteenth floor.
This visitor was an unexpected one. He was not an officer of the law. Mere chance had brought him here during the interim between The Shadow’s departure and the arrival of the police.
The man from the elevator was Wolf Daggert!
The fang-toothed gangster looked about him in a furtive manner. He knew that he was taking liberties in paying a visit to this place against King Furzman’s orders. That was why he had not announced himself in the lobby. He had sneaked past the doorman to board an elevator; the operator had not seen the action and hence had raised no objection.
Wolf approached the door of the big shot’s apartment. He rapped softly, then loudly. There was no response to his knocking.
Wolf was restless. In his mistrust of Graham Wellerton, he felt it imperative to talk with King Furzman; yet he knew that the big shot would not welcome his intrusion.
After half a minute, Wolf nervously placed his hand upon the doorknob and gave it a turn. He was surprised when the barrier opened.
Stepping into the anteroom, Wolf glanced about in a puzzled manner. Where was Gouger? Why had the attendant left the door unlocked?
Wolf saw opportunity. He would walk boldly in, surprise King Furzman and inform the big shot of Gouger’s negligence. This would break the ice for the interview which Wolf was so anxious to gain.
Closing the outer door behind him, Wolf took the course toward the reception room. He reached the darkened room through which he had to pass; there he stumbled upon something which was lying on the floor.
Staring, Wolf discerned the body of Gouger! Leaning down to touch the inert form, Wolf found his fingers in a
