ghostly illumination revealed two men moving slowly along the beach, carrying a box between them.
Legira and Francisco were heading for the little boat, which was now clearly visible. Drawn to the edge
of the cove, the boat showed the huddled figures of the men who manned it.
There were whispers near the car which Legira had left. A low voice spoke. The tones were those of
Harry Vincent, trusted operative of The Shadow. He and his comrades, Cliff Marsland and Clyde Burke,
had followed Legira in another car.
“Running on schedule,” was Harry's comment. “That's the boat from the Cordova, right enough.”
The three watched. They saw men reach from the boat and carry in the box. They saw Legira follow.
Francisco remained on the beach. The boat appeared to be pushing off. Francisco was turning to come
back to the waiting car.
It was evident that the servant was to remain ashore, to take away the car and probably to attend to
work for his master. There could be no need of Francisco now. Legira was with his friends.
“Look!”
Cliff Marsland's excited gasp caused his companions to stare intently at the boat. A sudden flood of
moonlight revealed Legira standing in the bow, watching the departing form of Francisco and as he
watched his faithful servant, two men rose suddenly behind the consul. They fell upon him with
coordinated skill!
The watchers could hear Legira call out as he fell. Francisco turned. A burst of flame came from the
boat. The trusty servant faltered, then realizing that he was about to be shot down, he fled away from the
beach. Shots followed him. Francisco staggered.
Acting with one accord, The Shadow's men leaped from the spot where they were crouching and
charged across the open toward the cove. Their automatics spat flame toward the moving boat. They
had two aims: to save Francisco; to overpower the men from the Cordova.
The attack met with an abrupt ending. Gunfire broke forth on all sides. Men, stationed in hiding along the
beach, were springing into action. The Shadow's three had run into an ambush!
Francisco fell riddled by a hail of bullets. Wild shots dug up the sand about the men who served The
Shadow. Even in spite of odds, they would have kept gamely on, but for a shot that clipped Clyde
Burke. As the man staggered and clapped his right hand to his wounded left arm, Harry Vincent gave a
sharp cry.
“Scramble for cover!” he exclaimed. “Back to the car!”
It was the only possible move. These three were outnumbered. Their enemies were in hiding. Only death
could await them ahead.
As they turned and headed toward the road, the figures of their foemen came into view. Outnumbered
five to one by a host of rumrunning mobsters, the one salvation lay in flight.
Harry leaped to the wheel of a black sedan as Cliff shoved Clyde Burke into the rear of the car. The
motor throbbed; the car shot away. It was none too soon. Hasty shots and vengeful cries were sounding
through the night air.
Grimly, Harry sped along the road. Cliff, staring back, saw the lights of another car in pursuit; beyond
them the headlamps of a second chaser. Three men —two able and one wounded—were fleeing from an
overpowering host.
Harry guided the sedan with the utmost skill, but he realized that unless he could reach a highroad and
