pass. Then had come the taps to which he had replied.
He seemed to hear a dull thumping on the other side of the metal curtain. What did it signify? Perhaps the man behind the barrier would tell. Yet Harry realized that time must be short. He had found Bruce Duncan. It was his duty to aid the man. How could he help by standing there?
It would be best, he thought, to listen for a few minutes. Perhaps the coded clicks would give him some suggestion that might enable him to rescue the man whom he had come to save. But as he swept the flashlight along the side of the cellar, he understood the situation. It was not a wall that lay between him and Bruce Duncan - it was a curtain of steel that could evidently be raised from above.
As he turned to start a search for stairs to the house above, he heard a sound to one side. He wheeled quickly; as he did, a light filled the room. Plunging upon him was a huge man. Vincent caught the glint of a knife - a machete. He saw a leering face, with a scarred cheek. He turned to escape the enemy, and swung his automatic toward him.
His wrist was seized before he could press the trigger. The pistol fell upon the floor. But though Harry lost his weapon, he managed to escape the thrust of the machete. Quick as a flash he caught the man's right wrist and prevented him from bringing the knife into play.
They struggled silently. The huge man with the ugly face was powerful, yet The Shadow's agent had the strength to resist him. As their arms locked and they stood straining yet almost motionless, Harry realized that he had been discovered in the dark, and that the man had pressed a light switch which illuminated this part of the cellar.
Harry's fierce opponent was a leering, scar-faced brute. Harry, faced by the man's dark visage, took the fellow for a Mexican; a logical guess since the man had first attacked with a machete. Harry battled madly; but he knew from the start that he was waging conflict with an enemy whose strength was far greater than his own.
THE odds were in favor of the attacker. He had nearly caught Harry unaware; he intended to weaken his antagonist. Every second that went by postponed all effort to rescue the imprisoned Bruce Duncan.
Harry realized this. He made a sudden twist. Taking advantage of a slip on the part of his opponent, he eluded the man's grasp and was free. He dashed madly across the cellar toward the opening through which he had come. There he stopped in consternation.
The Mexican, in coming through the cellar, had evidently seen the dim light of the opened window. This part of the cellar was quite dark, away from the illumination farther back. Still, Harry could see that the grating had been closed and fastened.
There was only an instant to take in these facts. The lead that Harry had gained might have been sufficient for him to scramble through had the grating been open. Outside, he might have summoned help. Now, at bay, he turned to meet the onrush of the big man whose machete was raised above his head.
Harry grabbed the fellow's arm and locked in furious struggle. His only hope was to overpower the man now. He was fierce in his attack and he swung the huge Mexican around toward the wall near the grating.
He had gripped the wrist of the hand that held the knife, but in his eagerness Harry lost his clutch on the other wrist. The fellow's left hand pressed against Harry's face and pushed him backward. Harry's arms were pinned in a powerful grasp. The Shadow's agent was suddenly rendered helpless.
In the dimness he saw the outline of the snarling, jeering face. The hand with the machete was free. It poised above him, the weapon pointed toward his chest.
'Hah-hah-hah!' the Mexican's voice panted as he sneered at Vincent. 'You think you can fight Pedro?
Hah-hah-hah! You see this?'
The machete wriggled in Pedro's hand. It quivered for the death thrust. The big man's back was against the wall, near the grating. Harry could see the closed bars behind him.
The knife trembled as it began its downward swing.
Then, with startling suddenness, an arm shot through the grating behind the Mexican. A black-gloved hand caught Pedro's descending wrist. The huge man's powerful swing was plucked in mid-air. Harry saw a look of distorted amazement come over Pedro. The man released him suddenly. Harry fell to the floor, and his head thumped against the stone.
Though slightly dazed, he could still see what was happening. That single hand which gripped Pedro's wrist possessed superhuman power, for it was twisting the huge Mexican back and forth as though he had been made of straw.
Another thin-gloved hand came through the hers. There was a quick movement, and Pedro was hurled headlong. The machete shot from his hand and clanged on the cellar floor. The big Mexican lay still.
A click and the grating opened. Those hands had pried open the fastening in a twinkling. The bars swung inward. A black figure slipped into the cellar and stood over Harry Vincent, looming like a mammoth bat-winged creature.
It bent forward, and Harry believed that he saw two bright eyes in the depths of the black shape. An exclamation came to his parched lips.
'The Shadow!'
A strange, almost mystic whisper came from the figure that hovered above him.
'Where is Duncan?'
'At the other end of the cellar. Behind a steel barrier.'
'In danger?'
'Yes.'
'Rest yourself for a minute. Wait until I have gone. Then go there to help him.'
The Shadow moved away. Harry could see the back of the strange figure in the cloak as it seemed to blot out the motionless form of Pedro. A flashlight was turned on; it was set on the floor. As Harry leaned against the wall, he could see the face of the unconscious Mexican, in the center of the ring of light.
The Shadow was bending over Pedro. Some quick action was indicated by the trembling of the long black cloak. Harry could not see The Shadow's face, but it appeared as though the man was studying the features of the brute on the floor.
Pedro's body moved as The Shadow seemed to tug at it. Something was happening - rapidly. A full minute elapsed, then came a surprising result that made Harry rub his eyes and gasp with astonishment.
The light was lifted from the floor. It shone on a mirror that was held by a hand. With a single motion, the black cloak and hat were lifted upward, then they fell to the floor. A face was revealed in the circle of light. It was the face of Pedro the Mexican!
As the standing figure turned, Vincent could see the features plainly. They were the perfect replica of Pedro's countenance. Even the scar on the cheek appeared in livid vividness.
The lips moved. They showed a sneer. It was an exact representation of the triumphant expression which the Mexican had revealed when he had poised the machete above Vincent's breast.
The real Pedro lay on the floor, but above him stood his exact duplicate! It seemed incredible -
impossible - yet it was actuality!
For one brief instant the face of the false Pedro changed its expression. Then the sneer reappeared. The light was out; the standing figure was gone.
As Harry Vincent rose to his feet and steadied himself against the wall, a weird, unforgettable sound echoed through the vaulted basement.
It was the sound of a laugh - a whispered laugh a mocking laugh that brought a sudden throbbing to Harry Vincent's temples.
It was the laugh of The Shadow!
CHAPTER XVI. THE OLD MAN'S STRATEGY
ISAAC COFFRAN was standing in the center of the front room on the second story. He was facing the curtained doorway, but his eyes were on the floor. A cunning smile was on his lips. He was gloating and triumphant. His hands were behind his back; his pose was one of enjoyable anticipation.
A shadow moved across the floor and extended toward the old man. Isaac Coffran raised his head quickly. He grinned as he saw the leering face of Pedro. The Mexican had parted the curtains and was standing in the doorway. His left hand held the machete; his right arm supported a black bundle.
'Well?' questioned Isaac Coffran.
