where
least awaited—against those on the roof. The horde below had advanced with the surety that their
comrades were ready to attack from above.
THE SHADOW replaced the trapdoor. Pushing Perry flat against the roof, he waited. There was no sign
from the edge where the men had gone. There had been four originally. Two were wounded and
helpless. A third had gone down the waiting ladder.
There was still a fourth—Pete Ballou—but he was no longer over the edge. The crafty leader of the
defeated horde had come back. Yet he had been afraid to shoot from long range—afraid of that vicious
automatic which The Shadow wielded. He was lying prone, now, behind a chimney, awaiting The
Shadow's approach.
Both men were coming toward Pete Ballou—The Shadow and Perry Wallace. They were on the other
side of the chimney. Pete was watching the side toward the rear edge of the roof, his gun in readiness.
It was not until the men stood close beside him that he realized The Shadow was headed for the side and
not the rear of the house. The folds of a cloak swished by his ear. Pete sprung up to fire at the black
figure that he saw beside him.
The Shadow sensed the ambush. As Pete's hand came up, The Shadow dropped. His arms shot forward
and the metal of his automatic struck the wrist of his foe. Pete Ballou's bullet whistled through the folds of
the cloak beneath The Shadow's arm.
Realizing that he had missed, Pete grappled with the man before him.
Perry Wallace was unable to come to the assistance of The Shadow. All that he could see was two
rolling forms, writhing by the chimney. As ever, luck was with Pete Ballou. His arm was momentarily
free. He managed to deal a sideswiping blow.
The Shadow's arm, caught in the folds of the cloak, failed to stop it. Only the brim of the slouch hat
dulled the force of the powerful stroke.
The Shadow clung to Pete's right wrist; but his efforts were weakened by the stunning crash. Strong as a
bull, Ballou swung The Shadow's struggling form sidewise. The two rolled over twice.
Then Perry saw the purpose. Swinging from beneath, Pete Ballou hurled The Shadow's form to the very
edge of the roof. Breaking free and rising to his knees, Ballou caught The Shadow's body to lunge it from
the parapet!
Leaping forward, Perry fired twice. In his excitement, his aim was wild. His third shot failed. The hammer
of his revolver clicked upon an empty chamber.
Pete Ballou, forgetful of all but his terrible revenge, was gripping The Shadow's shoulders. Perry,
stumbling forward in the dark, tripped and fell flat.
THEN, twelve feet away, unable to effect a rescue of the man who saved him, he saw an amazing sight.
Against the dull glow of the sky, two black arms shot upward and gripped the form of Pete Ballou.
The Shadow, reserving his strength, had met his adversary. The arms twisted and turned. By a firm
jujutsu hold, The Shadow broke the grasp of Pete Ballou.
The crook's form was precipitated upward, feet first. His body turned a somersault in a long, sweeping
arc. Ballou's body straightened and his back landed squarely upon the roof, his feet extending over the
edge.
With feet kicking wildly in the air, with arms beating in a vain, furious effort to save himself, Pete Ballou
slid feet foremost over the edge of the roof!
A long, hideous scream seemed to follow him downward, dying away into space below. There was a dull
crash beneath. Pete Ballou had gone to the fate which he had planned for another.
