lower garment fell to the floor and collapsed into a small mass of cloth.
Isaac Coffran almost staggered. The revolver slipped from his nerveless fingers. He had shot into nothingness. There was no one in the cloak; the removal of the hat had revealed no head and face!
The figure had been standing between the half-opened curtains. Two gleaming pins revealed the ruse.
The slump in the figure had not been caused by fear. It had been the exit of the real Shadow - the man within. Only the vacant shell - a cloak and hat - had remained to receive the bullets from Isaac Coffran's weapon. When the hat had been swept away, the cloak had fallen.
The Shadow had gone, and Isaac Coffran stood in the hall, fuming with rage and anger. His lips spat oaths of disappointment.
Then came a sound from the floor below; it was a long, tantalizing sound. A quivering laugh came up the stairs - a taunting, sardonic laugh. It was jeering, maddening to the ears of the old man above. The laugh came again - farther away; then a third time, fading in the distance.
Trembling with rage, the old man still stood in the upstairs hallway, shaking his fist in wrath. The air seemed to quiver with the echoes of The Shadow's laugh.
Back in his room the old man seized the black garments and flung them against the wall. He stamped upon them in sudden rage. Then he became suddenly calm. He had held The Shadow and had lost him.
Well, they would meet again.
Grimness was expressed upon Isaac Coffran's evil countenance as he drew another revolver from the table drawer and started downstairs to find the missing Pedro.
CHAPTER XVII. MEN MARKED TO DIE
WHILE Isaac Coffran had been watching the clock upstairs, the two men in the chamber of death had been witnessing the final approach of the wall that was designed to crush them.
Bruce Duncan's eyes had become glassy. He was standing nearer to the archway than Abdul, the Hindu.
His back was against the wall behind him; his arms were outstretched. He had felt certain that it must be too late for rescue.
Only a few inches had intervened between his body and that moving surface. The air was stifling. Then, at the moment when death seemed imminent, a feeling of faintness had come over Duncan. Mercifully, consciousness had faded from him.
The dark-faced Hindu had glanced stolidly at Duncan. Abdul was accepting death. Yet he had thrown his arm between his master and the moving wall. The solid surface pressed against his wrist and forced it toward Duncan's body. The Hindu realized that he could not withdraw his arm.
The thumping of the machinery had drummed into Abdul's thoughts. Then suddenly it had ceased. The pressure against his wrist remained the same. The Hindu stared in front of him. The wall was no longer moving!
Then came a grating sound, followed by a rush of cool fresh air. The steel curtain raised. The two men in the death chamber were revealed in the spot of a flashlight.
'Bruce Duncan?' came a voice. 'Are you alive?'
'He is alive,' replied Abdul.
The Hindu pressed his arm firmly against his master's body and managed to draw it free. There was not sufficient space for him to turn sideways, but he managed to force Duncan's form toward the archway where the steel curtain had been.
A pair of strong arms assisted him from the outside. A few seconds later Bruce Duncan was lying on the floor of the cellar. Abdul edged out of the narrow crevice and approached the man who held the flashlight.
'I am a friend,' the man whispered. 'My name is Harry Vincent. I saw you enter the cellar. I came to help. We must get Duncan out immediately.'
He lifted the feet of the prostrate man. Abdul bore Duncan's head and shoulders. With Vincent's flashlight blazing the trail ahead, they carried their burden toward the open grating, passing the prone form of Pedro on the way.
'Who is that?' asked Abdul.
'Pedro,' replied Harry. 'An enemy. We can leave him where he is.'
It required two or three minutes to force Duncan's body through the opening in the side of the house.
When Harry and Abdul had brought him to safety, the young man came to a state of semiconsciousness.
This enabled them to help Duncan walk, one supporting him on each side.
Harry left Abdul with Duncan at the side alley and hurried to the corner where he found an empty taxicab.
He returned for the others. Duncan seemed fairly well roused. But he slumped in a corner of the cab.
Harry glanced from the window as they went by Isaac Coffran's house and he blinked for a moment as he noticed the front door. It seemed to be closing. On the steps was a shadowy form that seemed to flit toward the sidewalk as they rolled along.
Harry told the driver to take them to the Metrolite Hotel. Abdul offered no objection.
BRUCE DUNCAN was conscious but bewildered when they reached their destination. Harry and Abdul took him upstairs and put him to bed, in Harry's room. Then Harry called the desk and arranged for an adjoining room. He slept there, leaving Abdul with his master. The Hindu sat in a chair and dozed comfortably.
When morning arrived, Harry went to interview the man whom he had rescued. He was admitted to the room by Abdul. Bruce Duncan was sitting up in bed. His face looked weary; but Bruce managed a smile as he extended his hand to Harry Vincent.
'Abdul has told me what you did to help us,' he said. 'I don't know how you came into the picture. But you were certainly a friend in need. How did you managed it?'
Harry Vincent smiled.
'I only managed a very little of it,' he replied. 'I may be able to tell you more later. I'm anxious to get your story. But let's have breakfast first.'
While Harry was calling downstairs, Abdul spoke to his master.
'I shall leave you, burra sahib,' he said in a knowing tone. 'This other man - Vincent sahib - may have much to tell you. It is better I should go.'
He gave a slip of paper to Bruce Duncan.
'This will be my address,' Abdul explained. 'I have a Hindu friend here in New York. You can reach me there.'
He drew a second paper from his pocket.
'This, burra sahib,' he added, 'is why I came to you last night. It fell out of the pocket of the old man when he came to see you at your house.'
Duncan read the paper and whistled. He turned to question Abdul, but the Hindu had departed.
Harry Vincent came over and sat on the edge of the bed.
'Duncan,' he said, 'I'm going to tell you a few facts. In return, I want you to be frank with me. Last night I made a phone call after we arrived. I called from my room, to a number from which I had received instructions to assist you. I am permitted to tell you certain things concerning my own operations. But in return I am to find out all you know. I suspect that you had some secret reason for your visit to that house last night. I think we can help each other. Does that seem fair?'
Bruce Duncan thought a moment. Then he decided. After all, it was Vincent's intervention that had saved his life. Without that, his secret would have perished with him.
'I agree,' he said.
The waiter arrived with their breakfast. While they were eating Harry told his story briefly.
'I am the agent of a being called The Shadow,' he said. 'I can't tell you who he is or what he is, because I don't know. He saved me from suicide, and I've worked for him ever since. He saved your life last night. He expects your cooperation in return, and you are to keep secret what I tell you.'
'Agreed,' said Duncan. 'Go on.'
'I was watching Isaac Coffran's house,' said The Shadow's agent. 'We believe that the old man is mixed up in some shady business, involving the mysterious disappearance of three persons. I was told that you were
