still alive!
The black robe covered the body. In the glare of the Englishman's flashlight, Harry pulled the cloak aside and stared at the upturned face. A cry of amazement followed. It came from Harry Vincent.
He was looking at the evil countenance of Jupe, the ape-man. In its final spring the monster had become entangled in the black robe of The Shadow. Its powerful body had broken the crumbling parapet. The fierce creature had plunged headlong to its death while The Shadow had managed to hold on in safety as the cloak ripped from his shoulders.
The crouching figure that had remained on the tower was The Shadow!
A sudden noise startled Harry. He looked back toward the entrance to the cellar. Two men were fleeing through the moonlight toward the woods. They were well away, close together. One of them appeared to be carrying something. Chefano and Frenchy were free!
'We cannot stop them,' cried Major Weston. 'One of them must have slipped the ropes and aided the other.'
Harry watched the men as they vanished among the trees. He clambered back over the loose stones.
Reaching the steps, he entered the passage, with the major close behind.
'Where are you going?' asked the Englishman.
'To get the wooden box,' replied Vincent. 'It was intended as a coffin. It will do for the ape-man's body.'
'Hush!' exclaimed the major, as they reached the end of the passage. 'I hear something.'
A moaning sound came from behind the door of the vault. They opened the barrier. Their flashlights showed a man lying on the floor, bound with ropes. They released him. The Englishman uttered a cry of recognition when he saw the man's face.
'It's Berchik!!' he exclaimed. 'I remember him! Samanov's trusted servant. He is the messenger. They captured him! He must have come while we were in the torture chamber!'
'And now they are gone,' muttered Vincent. 'Chefano and Frenchy - gone - gone with the stolen wealth.'
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE HAND OF THE SHADOW
A LOW-BUILT coupe was whirling along a Pennsylvania highway, its yellow hood shining in the moonlight. Two men were laughing as they watched the road flow rapidly beneath the wheels of the car.
'Great work, Frenchy,' said the man at the right. He turned and opened a box that lay in the center of the seat.
The box was cubical, measuring approximately one foot in each dimension. It rested free between Chefano and Frenchy; its opened lid revealed a shimmer of sparkling contents that caught the glint of the dash light. Chefano closed the lid and turned a key. Leaning back, he stared forward through the windshield.
'Lucky it was gems instead of gold,' asserted Frenchy, his eyes intent on the road ahead. 'They must have used the gold for other purposes and sent the sparklers over here because they were easier to carry.'
'That's probably the idea,' said Chefano. 'I wonder how that messenger brought them in. He must have smuggled them.'
'Getting by the American customs would be easy,' was Frenchy's reply. 'Easy, compared to sneaking them out of Russia. Why worry about it, Chefano? We've got them. That's enough.'
'Yes, and we're lucky. I wonder who it was that let those fellows loose. Could it have been The Shadow they were talking about? Was that him fighting Jupe on the tower, do you suppose?'
'Probably. And he got what was coming to him.'
'I wonder where Jupe went.'
'I suppose he's hiding somewhere. Why think about him? You're better off without him, Chefano. He's done his work. He doesn't know enough to talk, even. He can't give you away if they do catch him.'
Chefano laughed. Frenchy could see his lips twist as he gazed in the mirror of the car. He thought he saw a dark form, too, and two tiny spots of light, like fires. It was not wise to watch the mirror, going at his high speed.
'It's been a wild night,' said Chefano. 'First that little surprise you didn't warn me about. That worked out very nicely when we put the two men on the rack. We handled the Russian messenger in the best possible way. When he walked in with the box under his arm, thinking we must be friends, I couldn't resist it. It was so easy to knock him down without any argument.
'Yes,' agreed Frenchy, 'but if you had had your way and opened the box right then and there it would have been very bad when Vincent and the Englishman came in. I shoved the box under the table while we decided what to do next. One minute later they popped up.'
'We did the best thing when we ran for it,' said Chefano. 'They never thought to watch us while that fight was going on up at the top of the tower. When I got loose and started to free you, my one idea was to get the box and clear out.'
'They couldn't have followed us through the woods,' said Frenchy. 'If they had known where my car was - in that old barn down the pike - it might have been bad. But once we were away - well, we're going to keep right on going.'
'We?' said Chefano sharply. 'We? You've been paid for your work, Frenchy. It's my lookout from now on. But you've been so useful that I'm going to give you some extra cash.'
'You'll split the swag fifty-fifty,' asserted Frenchy.
'What do you mean?' demanded Chefano. 'How about Isaac Coffran? I've worked with him for years.'
'Leave him out this time.'
'Nothing doing. I'm too wise for that, Frenchy. I don't double-cross any one so smart as he is.'
'All right. Split it three ways, then.'
CHEFANO'S lips twitched as he seemed to consider the matter.
'I'll tell you what, Frenchy,' he said. 'Twenty-five per cent for you, deducting what you've already received. That is, if Coffran will agree.'
Frenchy's teeth shone as he smiled. He did not reply at once. The car was following a curving course; his eyes were on the road as he tried to maintain the rapid speed.
At last he spoke.
'That might do,' he said. 'But when you figure that we have the swag now - all ours - here in this car -'
He stopped as Chefano uttered a sharp exclamation. Frenchy looked down at the jewel box. A hand was upon it - a hand that came through the open window at the back of the coupe! Only the hand was visible in the moonlight. Frenchy could not see the arm.
'You have the swag?' whispered a mocking voice. 'You are wrong. It is mine!'
The gloved hand lifted the box by the handle. The motion was slow - deliberate - uncanny. Frenchy's eyes had leaped back to the road as he righted the car along a sloping curve.
'I won't stop, Chefano!' he cried. 'He can't get away at this speed. We're going too fast. Grab him! It's The Shadow!'
Chefano thrust his hands toward the box, which was almost to the rear window. A black-clad arm swung the box swiftly to the right. It crashed against Chefano's face.
Frenchy's right arm was quick. With a swift glance he directed his motion and caught hold of the box with his hand. He still watched the road, steering the car rapidly around a bend with his left hand on the wheel.
'Help me!' he exclaimed to Chefano.
There was no response. The other man was groggy from the blow he had received.
Frenchy felt the box slipping from his clutch. He turned his head in desperation. He saw a black form at the back window of the car. He threw another glance at the road, then vainly tried to halt the momentum of the car.
Not twenty-five feet ahead was a red light of warning, mounted upon a white fence that marked a sharp turn in the road. It was too late for action then. The automobile smashed the heavy fence as though it had been built of match sticks. Over the edge plunged the car - a sheer drop into the river below.
The men in the car were trapped as the automobile sank beneath the water's surface. The river was deep
