taking the brunt of bullets before they could reply with their own guns.
Along with the blast of guns, staggering crooks heard The Shadow's laugh, mocking in its triumph, from somewhere near the front of the arcade. The police
had literally bowled the enemy clear of their black-clad prey!
WITHIN the Diamond Mart, sounds of battle were quite audible, but by no means ominous. Most of the shooting was muffled within the arcade, the guns that the diamond merchants heard seemed sporadic in their fire.
Behind a little counter that barely gave him room to spread his portly elbows, one fat-faced jeweler turned his head and smiled blandly at his neighbors. He was old Breddle, who had been in business at the Diamond Mart almost since its opening day. Rioting in this neighborhood did not disturb him.
In Breddle's opinion, a fight a block away was as remote as the European war zone. His bland smile widened as he heard the gunfire dwindle. The fray was
bearing off in another direction, probably toward the twisty streets of Chinatown, where rioters could find holes and scurry into them.
Breddle gave a wise nod that calmed the neighboring merchants. They passed
the word along the booths. No need to worry any longer; old Breddle had given the nod. Glancing in Breddle's direction, other diamond sellers saw that the old-timer was talking with a customer as ardently as if the noise outside had been nothing more than a few firecrackers.
It chanced that Breddle's customer was Flush Tygert. The gambler was interested in buying diamonds in a big way. Practically all of Breddle's best gems were on the counter, but Flush wasn't satisfied.
Glancing at the adjoining booths, Flush quietly asked if Breddle could make deals with his nearest neighbors, provided that they had what Flush wanted. Figuring that his own stock would stand up in comparison, Breddle nodded. Beckoning to the other two merchants, he invited them to show the best they had.
None of the diamond sellers observed the thing that Flush took in with a casual glance out toward the street. Only Flush knew the size of the arcade battle; he was looking to see if it had produced the required result.
It had. The fray had drawn all available police from their usual posts, plain-clothes men as well as bluecoats. For once, the street in front of the Diamond Mart was totally unprotected.
Trays of diamonds came across the sides of Breddle's booth, thrust there by the adjoining merchants. They wanted Flush to compare their wares with those
that Breddle offered. With a grin that lacked gleam because of the glittering diamonds, Flush drawled:
'Thank you, gentlemen. I think that I can take all your gems!'
Had Breddle and the other merchants stared Flush in the eye, they might have guessed a most important secret. His features were undergoing a series of changes. He was Five-face, rather than Flush Tygert, though the gambler's countenance predominated during his facial betrayals.
But none of the three merchants was meeting the gaze of Five-face. They were staring at a gun muzzle that poked from the edge of Flush's coat.
Snakelike, the revolver wangled back and forth under its owner's skillful hand.
The gun point carried the hypnotic threat of a cobra's eye.
'Bring out the old valise,' Flush told Breddle. 'The one you always keep handy. Open it and put it on the floor below the counter.'
BREDDLE followed instructions without a murmur. As he glanced at his fellow merchants, his eyes warned them not to make an unwise move. No one could
get away with wholesale robbery, here at the Diamond Mart. Flush Tygert would be
stopped before he could leave the building. Placing the valise as Flush ordered,
Breddle politely awaited the crook's next order.
'Start to put your trays away,' said Flush. 'When you get them below the counter, dump them into the bag. Don't let any of the gems splash over. I might
miss out on one I particularly want. In that case, Breddle, I'd have to give you
a bullet as a reminder to be more careful.'
Tray by tray, the old merchant poured diamonds into the waiting bag. Even at Breddle's prices, which were low, the gems he had displayed ran close to two
hundred thousand dollars in total value. When Breddle had finished with his trays, Flush told him to take those that the other merchants held handy.
More diamonds went into the bag, and Breddle left the empty trays beneath his own counter. With the natural smile of Flush Tygert, Five-face told the other merchants to relax and looked unconcerned while Breddle handed over the valise, which now contained a quarter of a million in loot, at rock-bottom prices.
Straightening up from the counter, where he had leaned as though inspecting diamonds, Flush let his gun slide from sight. His last words were a warning that he would hold Breddle responsible, should any alarm be given. The threat meant nothing by the time Flush had carried the bag halfway to the big doorway.
With a gesture, Breddle ducked beneath his counter, and his neighbors followed his example. Breddle pulled a switch that gave an automatic alarm.
Customers at the Diamond Mart were instantly treated to a demonstration of how rapidly things could happen in those preserves.
To the strident clang of alarm bells, merchants scooped up trays and loose
diamonds, to shove them into safety. Guards appeared as if from nowhere - a few
from behind counters, others among the customers, additional men through doors that bobbed open along the walls.
They almost blocked the outer door before Flush could reach it. Only by a rapid dash did the lone crook get there first.
By his spurt, Flush gave himself away as the thief they wanted; but he was
smart enough to yank out his revolver and brandish it with one hand, while he swung the jewel bag across his body, exactly as he had done with Melbrun's cash
box when passing as Jake Smarley.
Flush fired, aiming for counters, not for the guards. It was a cute trick,
for it threatened the lives of merchants and customers. On that account, the guards gave him leeway. They wanted him outside, where he could do no damage.
To a man, they thought that the foolhardy gem thief would run right into the arms of the police. But when they reached the door themselves, they saw Flush leaping into a taxicab parked a short way up the street.
The guards aimed; before they could fire, guns roared from two low-built sedans that wheeled in from a side street. Before they could drop back, the guards saw the muzzle of a machine gun thrust out from one car, ready to rake them.
Down the street, police were piling from the old arcade, too far away to give rescue. The aid that came was from a different quarter.
A CLOAKED figure sprang into sight from the gloom of an elevated pillar only a dozen yards away. A fierce laugh, taunting, defiant, made the machine-gunners swing their formidable weapon toward the attacker in black.
Automatics spurted, in tandem style, from the gloved hands of The Shadow.
The men at the machine gun were withered. Their car kept on, following the
cab that Flush Tygert had taken. The other sedan also sped along, to cover the getaway. A third automobile was cutting in from another street. Mobsters had literally whisked themselves away from The Shadow's range.
But they couldn't escape this master foe who had arrived to take up the duty that the police had dropped. With the law triumphant in the arcade, The Shadow had sensed what was due at the Diamond Mart. Not quite in time to prevent the actual robbery, he was prepared, nevertheless, for the chase.
A cab lurched into view, arriving in almost as surprising a fashion as The
Shadow. Moe Shrevnitz was at the wheel; he had been cruising, looking for his chief. The rear door slashed open; the cab seemed to swallow The Shadow as it passed him. Momentarily jabbing the brakes, Moe let the swinging door slam shut.
Again, a strange, weird laugh quivered the gloom beneath the elevated, as gloved hands poked from the cab
