to a new position.
Shark and Hood had spent useless shots. Their reserve crew was halted. Crooks went scurrying from the hallway, choosing the front door as the quickest exit from the fierce foeman whom they could not see.
As they dashed to the outside air, there were shouts from the house front. New shots rang out.
Commissioner Weston had arrived, accompanied by representatives of the law. Scattered thugs were running into new trouble. Their fight was through.
The Shadow was clear to settle matters in the study. Swinging about in the darkness he found the light switch and pressed it.
The glow showed Hood finishing a chance slug at Chanbury's head. The stroke was a glancing one, but it felled Hood's opponent. Hood came for The Shadow, aiming as he drove forward.
The Shadow's hand finished a quick twist with a trigger tug. The automatic spoke before Hood could fire. Hood was finished.
Harry Vincent had wrested clear of Shark Meglo. Harry's fist reached the killer's long jaw and Shark sprawled to the wall beside the box of jewels that he had dropped in the struggle. Harry forgot Shark for the moment, as he saw Wintham flanking The Shadow.
The butler was aiming a tiny revolver; Harry fired quick shots to halt him. One bullet singed Wintham's shoulder; but the shot was unnecessary.
The Shadow had stooped toward the door. Twisting in upon Wintham, he hoisted the traitor high and launched him on a distant dive out through the living room.
THE SHADOW was leaving Shark Meglo to Harry Vincent, during those moments. Harry wheeled to cover the rising killer. Shark's bandanna mask had slipped down to his long jaw; his ugly eyes were in full view.
Jolted by his spill, Shark acted clumsily. He was more interested in regaining the box of swag than in taking aim at any one.
Luck was to serve Shark, where common sense failed him.
Before Harry could do more than cover the bewildered crook, old Hugo Silsam sprang from beneath the table where Harry had pushed him. Silsam's face had a choleric look; he was trembling with an uncontrollable spasm. Unheeding Harry's shout, Silsam hurled himself upon Shark.
The two wrestled by the opened window, with Silsam clawing for the jewel box with one hand, shoving Shark's gun upward with the other. Harry was waiting for an opportune shot, when the struggle ended suddenly. For no apparent reason, old Silsam became rigid. His bands lost their grip; tottering, he stumbled toward Harry.
Shark vaulted the window sill, carrying the jewel box with him. A prompt shot blasted from the doorway; a bullet came hot from The Shadow's gun, straight for Shark's heart. Again, luck favored the murderous robber.
Shark was shifting the ebony box when The Shadow fired. The bullet hit the stout, metal-bound coffer at an angle. The slug was deflected. Shark was below and beyond the sill before The Shadow could loose further fire.
Harry saw The Shadow speed across the room and spring through the window, hard upon Shark's trail.
There were puny shots from the living room; then louder blasts. Harry saw Wintham succumb to the bullets of arriving police.
Stooping beside Hugo Silsam, Harry lifted the old man's head. One glance at Silsam's distorted face told Harry what had happened. Silsam's mad, unnecessary struggle with Shark Meglo had proven too much for the old man's heart.
Unscathed by a single bullet, Silsam had suffered a stroke. His own overstrained efforts had produced the result that murderers had failed to gain. Hugo Silsam was dead.
Chance death had robbed Silsam's lips of the name that they had once tried to utter: that of the master-crook who had sent Shark Meglo here to complete the circuit of crime.
CHAPTER V. THE BROKEN TRAIL
WHILE the law was taking control at Silsam's, The Shadow was keeping close on the trail of Shark Meglo. The killer had been lucky enough to reach a rear street and contact a waiting touring car before The Shadow could overhaul him. There was another vehicle, however, that stood ready for pursuit: Moe's cab.
Thus the chase began; and it led to narrow East Side streets, the touring car keeping well ahead. Moe was driving shrewdly, while The Shadow, peering through the connecting window, kept on the look for coming opportunity.
Given the right break, The Shadow intended to order a quick spurt. He was ready to wage lone battle against Shark and the killer's accompanying crew. Odds never mattered to The Shadow when he had scummy foemen on the run.
At heart, Shark Meglo was yellow; and his pals would be the same. They would be due for a quick finish, if The Shadow overtook them.
More was at stake than the swag that Shark carried. The Shadow was out to learn the identity of the superplotter who had sold the planted jewels to Hugo Silsam.
Shark was the only man who could reveal that wanted name. The Shadow had seen Silsam drop dead.
He had heard the barrage of police shots that felled Wintham. The Shadow, himself, had finished Hood Bleeth, the only lieutenant who might have known something about the master-crook.
Hence Shark, rather than the swag, was the prize that The Shadow wanted, although he intended to take both. If need be, The Shadow would shoot down Shark's protectors, sparing the killer until he could get his gloved fingers on Shark's throat.
Under such treatment, Shark would blab everything he knew. Murderous though the fellow was, he required a mob. Without thugs at hand to aid him, Shark would become nerveless.
The trail reached a slummy neighborhood. Moe's cab was staying well back, at The Shadow's order.
Through clever tactics, The Shadow had concealed the fact that he was on the trail. The policy suddenly produced results. As the cab swung a corner, The Shadow saw the touring car stop, half a block ahead.
Moe doused the lights and pulled to the curb. Edging from the cab door, The Shadow saw developments ahead. A man was stepping from the touring car. Though he tried to stay away from the glow of a street lamp, the fellow's face was visible to The Shadow. So was the burden that the man lugged under his arm.
It was Shark Meglo, carrying the box of stolen gems.
SHARK sneaked into the doorway of a dilapidated house. The touring car rolled away. There was no need to follow it farther. The Shadow ordered Moe to drive from the neighborhood.
Two minutes later, The Shadow was entering the house where Shark had gone.
The building was one of an old row. The houses were all three stories high and looked very much alike.
As The Shadow analyzed it, Shark had chosen this place as a new hide-out.
Shark was clever at finding such ports of refuge; clever enough to have dodged The Shadow for several weeks, which was something that few other crooks had ever done.
Once inside the house, The Shadow's progress was uncanny. The house was an empty one; as he listened in the darkness of the ground-floor hall, The Shadow could hear creaks from the stairs above.
From them, he chose his own route; but his course was noiseless.
By the time that Shark had reached the third floor, The Shadow was at the bottom of the last flight of stairs.
A door closed above. From the sound, The Shadow marked its exact location: at the rear of the third-floor hall. Moving silently upward, The Shadow came to the door itself. There was a streak of light beneath it.
Listening, The Shadow heard a series of soft, tumbly thuds; then a low-muttered oath. Wedging a tiny pick into the keyhole, The Shadow found it empty. Shark had locked the door and pocketed the key, While Shark busied himself inside the room, The Shadow noiselessly worked on the lock.
Shark finished first. His light went off. A few seconds later, The Shadow was turning the doorknob; he pressed the door inward, with his same noiseless skill. The Shadow heard the closing of another door, on his right. Pausing, he listened to the scrape of a shoving bolt.
Shark had gone into another room, closing and bolting the door behind him.
In absolute darkness, The Shadow closed the outer door behind him. He moved in the direction of the inner door; against its surface, he used a tiny flashlight so guardedly that Shark could learn nothing.
Sliding his fingers down the door edge, The Shadow found the knob and reached beneath it. There was no keyhole.
