There were two behind him. The Shadow fired twice with his right-hand automatic. His long, black arm
rose and fell from the recoil. Each of his bullets stopped a gangster. His other hand was not idle. Its
automatic was pointing down the stairs. As he fired his second deadly shot, The Shadow turned his eyes
in that direction. His steely glare saw the head and shoulders of a gangster, leveling to fire.
The Shadow's form swung away. The gangster's shot seared the left brim of the slouch hat. The man did
not fire again. It was The Shadow's turn. Before the grimy finger of the mobster could press the trigger a
second time, The Shadow's automatic blazed and another rat of the underworld went to his miserable
doom.
While Silk Dowdy was still scrambling for his revolver, The Shadow leaped up the stairs toward the third
floor. Out of range, he encountered Perry Wallace.
White-faced, but ready for action, Perry was pointing to a trapdoor that led to the roof. The wooden
barrier was moving.
GRIMLY, The Shadow waited. The trap slid aside. A hand and arm showed. The Shadow fired. There
was a cry from above as the wounded man staggered away.
Silk Dowdy heard the startled cry. He knew that men were coming from above. He summoned the
forces from below. The Shadow and Perry Wallace were between two fires.
The Shadow did not hesitate. With an upward spring, he leaped to the trap. He thrust his head and
shoulders through with amazing speed.
Had the men on the roof suspected this bold action, they would have held The Shadow at their mercy.
The Shadow, however, had cunningly outguessed them. They had drawn back from the trapdoor, fearing
further shots. They were crouching low, well away from the danger zone. Against the rear edge of the
roof, their forms were visible, whereas the rising head of The Shadow was obscure. The Shadow saw
them first.
His right hand, over the edge, blazed straight toward the nearest gangster. The man fell with a groan. The
others, realizing that they were targets, scrambled for safety over the edge of the wall.
Rising openly, The Shadow flung the trapdoor aside. With calm indifference toward the men whom he
had so easily routed, he stared into the hallway below.
Perry Wallace, crouching behind the edge of the wall at the top of the stairway, was preparing to resist
the men who were creeping up the stairs. As The Shadow watched, Perry leaned from his place of
protection and fired at an approaching gunman. That was the signal for a mass attack. Five men, headed
by Silk Dowdy, drove upward in a group.
They thought that Perry was their sole assailant. When he jumped for cover, they came on. They saw no
sign of The Shadow. The dark form, dropping suddenly to the mouth of the trap, was as black as the
night. The first token of its presence was a burst of flame that spat from the very ceiling above the hall.
Down went Silk Dowdy, staggering back into the arms of his henchmen The Shadow's automatics broke
loose. The surge of gangsters tottered and fell back. Silk and another gangster rolled down the steps. The
others fled, safe only because The Shadow had ceased his fire.
Perry Wallace heard The Shadow's hiss. In answer to that call, he sprang upward and gripped the edge
of the trap. He clung there and managed to draw himself up to his elbows. His hold was weakening; but
strong arms came to his rescue. The Shadow brought the rescued man to the roof.
By unexpected action, The Shadow had split the double forces of the attackers. He had struck
