exactly.
Again, the master-crook's face was calm. He was ready for another of his daring games, one that he had long ago arranged in every detail, even though he had never expected to use it. This game would bring an alibi, the sort that would help. Henshew was almost glad that a prowler had entered his apartment.
There was another little matter that this episode might settle; one that had rankled Henshew ever since the afternoon, when Chanbury had called to offer cash instead of uncut diamonds. That new suggestion regarding the jewel purchase had made Henshew uncertain about how to manage the sale.
Matters would be different after the next half hour, decided Henshew; and he was right. Matters were to be far different, for both Madden Henshew and his murderous accomplice, Shark Meglo.
The present trap was like a spider web, set to enmesh a helpless fly. That web had gathered in a stinging hornet in the person of The Shadow.
CHAPTER XVII. VANISHED SPOILS
SHARK MEGLO and his henchmen had reached the upper floor ahead of Henshew. They had come by that rear entrance that led to the stairway, a route unwatched by apartment house attendants, for the back door had a heavy latch. Shark had opened it with a key long ago provided by Henshew.
Shark had keys to the apartment, also. There were two doors - one from the main hallway, the other from a side corridor. The first opened into Henshew's living room; the second into a kitchenette. Shark was using both. He spoke final instructions to his trigger-men, at the spot where the corridors met.
'Get the lug that's in there,' ordered Shark. 'Bounce a gat off his konk and drag him along. We're taking him on a one-way ride! Whoever grabs the guy is to head out in a hurry. The rest of you heave stuff around the joint.
'Keep wrecking it until Henshew shows up with some of the monkeys that work here. Don't bump any of that bunch. Sock 'em and scram. Got it all straight? Let's go!'
Shark did not specify why he had given such odd instructions; but that did not bother his men. They never guessed that this raid was to polish off an unwanted intruder and cover up for Henshew. Shark's outfit took orders as they received them.
Half a dozen strong, the invaders deployed in two groups entering by living room and kitchenette. They were cautious as they moved, for they wanted to trap their victim unawares. They needed some token to make sure that he was still present, and they saw just what they wanted.
The Shadow's tiny flashlight was blinking along the middle row of books in the living room alcove. It did not show the person who held it. Shark, therefore, was more positive than ever that the intruder could not be The Shadow.
Shark restrained his men with a whisper. This victim would be easy; he was too concentrated on his search to know that enemies were closing in upon him.
The flashlight finally stopped near the end of a row of books. Its glow became fixed, shining at an angle toward the volumes. Shark snapped the word:
'Get him!'
Five thugs surged forward in a fanwise wall closing in upon their prey. All were eager to land the first slugging blow. As the thugs attacked, Shark pressed the light switch. In the glare, Shark saw his men drive up against the writing desk. Raised arms halted; the crowd broke.
No victim lay beneath them. One thug had jarred the writing desk; Shark saw a tiny flashlight topple to the floor. It had been resting there on the desk, to draw the attack; but its elusive owner was gone!
A STRONG laugh challenged from the corner - that same spot where The Shadow had kept from Tyrune's view only a night ago. Shifting in the dark The Shadow had picked that vantage point. His mirth told his identify before eyes could mark him.
Chill mockery, a sardonic laugh that only one living being could hurl, was his token of defiance.
The Shadow!
Attackers were tricked. They knew it. Most duped of the lot was Shark Meglo, the leader who had assured his followers that they would find an easy victim. To Shark's ears, as to others, the source of The Shadow's laugh was indefinable. The mirth seemed to shiver from the very walls of this large room.
It was Shark, however, who first saw The Shadow. Maddened to desperation, the murderer spun viciously, his ugly eyes glittering in their search. Shark saw The Shadow; but not in time to act.
A streak of blackness, The Shadow was looming upon the killer, driving with terrific speed. Launched straight for the murderer, the cloaked avenger was bringing a gun muzzle to bear.
Had Shark tried to beat The Shadow to that shot, his attempt would have been suicide. In one stroke, The Shadow could end all battle; for Shark's crew would weaken with their leader's fall.
Shark did not try to fire. He was more yellow than The Shadow supposed. Shark made a wild dive away from The Shadow's gun muzzle, giving a hoarse shout as he hit the floor.
Shark's crew heard; they whipped about to see The Shadow. Not guessing that Shark had yellowed, the mobbies were ready to deliver fire.
It was The Shadow's turn for a shift of action. Halting, he sped his free hand to the light switch and pressed it. The room was blotted in an instant. The Shadow had whirled away when the trigger-men began their fire.
Amid the barks of wildly stabbing revolvers came the spurts of The Shadow's .45, pumping its deadly metal. Darkness was The Shadow's entrenchment. He was everywhere, yet nowhere. Thugs were sinking, wounded; others thought they had located The Shadow. Revolvers boomed in unison, all in one direction.
As the echoes ended, a laugh sounded in the ears of the faltering killers. An instant later, The Shadow was sledging strokes to unprotected skulls, in the very midst of the clustered crew!
CROOKS broke. They dashed for the doorways, hoping that The Shadow's gun was empty. It was; but he was drawing a second weapon. He ripped new bullets after the fleeing horde. The few who escaped were lucky. Only two were able to reach the hallway; but there was one who had gone ahead of them.
That was Shark Meglo. He had taken flight through the kitchenette, during that last set-to in the darkness.
In the hallway, the pair of fleeing crooks bowled over Henshew and the doorman. They were headed for the open elevator; but the operator slammed it in their faces and they took to the stairs instead.
Henshew, playing the part of a frightened man, ran along the hall trying to open apartment doors; and the doorman followed him. Some one let them into an apartment.
All was quiet on the battle ground, except for the groans of crippled thugs who lay in Henshew's living room. Somewhere in the darkness moved The Shadow; but there was another who had suddenly chosen a lurking game. That was Shark Meglo.
The pair of routed hoodlums had torn past Shark before he could reach the stairway, for their route was shorter. When he reached the stairs, Shark stopped. A vicious look covered his long-jawed face.
So it was The Shadow, after all; and The Shadow thought that Shark was yellow. Whatever Shark's own estimate of himself, he saw advantage in the situation. The Shadow would be coming out from Henshew's, confident that no enemy remained. That was where The Shadow would be fooled. The Shadow would find no one; but some one would find The Shadow.
That some one would be Shark!
Crouched on the stairs, Shark waited, ready with his gun. He hadn't wasted a shot from that big weapon.
He would have six of them for The Shadow when that bullet-dodger came. With narrowed eyes, Shark watched from the stairs.
Those minutes in Henshew's apartment had been brief but rapid. The minutes that Shark waited were few, but interminably long.
In them, Shark could hear Henshew and the doorman coming out to investigate. Once they went into the apartment, The Shadow would move out. Shark grinned at the pleasant thought. There was only one way The Shadow could come, right now; that was from the kitchenette door.
Shark steadied his gun in that direction, watching for the slightest streak of blackness.
Something cold pressed Shark's neck. Its frigid touch streaked down his yellow spine. A fierce, contemptuous whisper sounded in his ear. The murderer's gun hand loosened; his revolver thudded.
Impossible though it was, The Shadow had come up the stairs behind him. The black-clad master had
