The Shadow’s twisted form ceased its struggle. The black-garbed figure lay huddled in mid-air, like a gigantic fly awaiting slow death in the web of a mammoth spider. To fight against these toils was useless.
As long minutes drifted by, The Shadow did not move. He lay like a creature without life. The gently swaying web retained him comfortably, yet formed a prison that offered no escape. Should those slender bonds have broken, the captive would have fallen to his death; but the threads held, for they had been woven by the thousands.
Choy Lown could have intended but one fate for the victim who might fall into this mesh. That fate was death. Long, continued struggles would bring weakness. Death would be slow, but positive. No mercy would come from Choy Lown. He had planned this as a huge trap for the first human who might reach it. Death to intruders was Choy Lown’s philosophy.
In contrast to a lingering submission, there was one other course. A furious struggle within these bonds would snag the victim further, but could suffice to break the meshwork from its moorings. Then the web would fall, carrying its helpless prisoner down to the bottom of the pit, where death would be immediate.
That was the extent of Choy Lown’s consideration. Here, while strength still belonged to him, The Shadow might choose between quick death or lingering doom. He had been halted on the verge of his objective; this was to be his end.
THE motionless position of the huddled black shape seemed to indicate that The Shadow had chosen to submit to his fate without an effort. But after many minutes had passed, the cloaked man began to move. His arms, his legs - they were cautious in their efforts. The Shadow was testing the strength of this mammoth web.
To a slight degree, this strange prisoner was frustrating Choy Lown’s device, for while he could not sufficiently alter his position to free a portion of his body, at least his cautious actions were not entangling him further. So artfully designed was the web that The Shadow’s great spring had automatically rendered him helpless; but now he was skillful enough to keep his position from becoming worse.
The web was a network of many portions, all fastened to the corners of the oblong room that formed the widened center of the passage. Thus The Shadow’s body was swinging as though in a hammock, moving back and forth over a space of half a dozen feet. The fact that the meshes came from the sides of the room made it impossible for the swing to approach either of the solid portions of the passage.
Back from the spot where The Shadow had come, the steel barrier now was flush against the wall, a sheer cliff rising from the pit. Ahead, the passage still lay open to the curtains at the end. In making his terrific leap, The Shadow had jumped well upward, so that, in the faint light from beyond the curtains, he now viewed that farther passage from an angle.
Safety was close - but how could it be reached? Inch by inch, The Shadow tried to creep upward in the net. His hands, moving toward the vertical, were touching the ceiling; but no grip was afforded there.
Nevertheless, The Shadow’s brain was working coolly. His eyes, peering from beneath the brim of the hat enmeshed above them, were staring shrewdly at the end of the passage - ahead and below The Shadow’s form. Now with determined effort The Shadow commenced a strenuous struggle.
He did not seek to free himself; instead he urged his body back and forth, seeking the momentum of a powerful swing. Each forward motion became more violent. The web stretched; then receded. Forward - backward - forward - backward - the grim monotony kept on. The Shadow was not enmeshing himself further; but he was apparently striving uselessly. For the only result could be a breaking of the fastenings that held the web.
What was the answer? That The Shadow had chosen immediate death in preference to a lingering demise in the pit?
No! Despite his helplessness, The Shadow was striving with master precision. His body was moving forcefully now; each swing was a mighty heave forward; each return an automatic recoil. If The Shadow’s efforts were to succeed, the fastenings would break; but they would not break haphazardly. They would tear away in accordance with The Shadow’s plan.
The climax came. As The Shadow used all his might to give a forward, downward swing, a portion of the web broke away from the wall at a rear corner. That one fastening was followed by all the others that lay most distant from the farther passage. The Shadow’s forward urge became a flying plunge that snapped the foremost fastenings. The form in black dropped toward the oblivion of the pit!
NOTHING remained to stay The Shadow’s fall. As Choy Lown had designed it, the web had failed under repeated struggling by the victim. But The Shadow, in his keenness, had modified Choy Lown’s plan. Fruitless struggle would have caused The Shadow to drop straight down; concentrated effort had altered that plunge.
The Shadow’s fall was a forward dive. With greater impetus, it would have shot him squarely into the passage instead of the pit; but the swinging had not yet gained the required momentum. The Shadow was plunging short of his objective; but as his body described a falling curve, his hands and arms caught the edge of the passage, and his head remained above. Poised with the weight of his legs and body swinging downward, The Shadow was hanging on the edge of oblivion.
Under ordinary circumstances, The Shadow could have scrambled to the passage with ease. But a fearful, desperate struggle now confronted the master of mystery. The plunge had not freed him from the web. He was still tangled in the troublesome skeins and the huge net, with its myriad of threads, was hanging from his body like a shroud.
Fortunately, the web, so thin as to be invisible in ordinary light, weighed only a few pounds. If The Shadow could draw the weight of his own body above the brink he would be saved. That was his endeavor now; and his fingers vainly sought sufficient hold upon the floor of the passage.
Somehow that steady clutch managed to impress itself upon a roughened board. With a mighty heave, The Shadow urged his body upward. Inch by inch, he pressed forward until his form lay prostrate on the floor, clear of the terrible pit. It had been an exhausting effort; but The Shadow had won.
Even now, The Shadow lay virtually helpless, for the entanglements of the web had increased rather than diminished. But now he held a distinct advantage over these enfolding bonds. Before, his body was a handicap because of its own weight. Now with the web no more than a loose meshwork, escape, while difficult, was not impossible.
Gradually, The Shadow’s right arm was drawn inward while probing fingers found a pathway through the threads. The hand reached the black cloak. A sharp-bladed knife unfolded in the black-gloved hand. The fingers used it to sever the tough threads and cut a wide gap in the net.
When the task was finished, The Shadow gradually emerged from his shroud-like mesh. He raised himself to his feet and swept the last portions of Choy Lown’s web from his body, stepping clear upon the floor.
Picking up the defeated web, the black-clad master tossed it into the pit. Standing on the brink, The Shadow emitted a whispered laugh. The shuddering sound was answered in long, sinister waves from below, as though a horde of waiting ghosts had cried back to the man who had eluded their abode of death.
THE SHADOW stole along the passage. His hands parted the silken curtains. A steel barrier prevented further advance. Wise Choy Lown! Despite the cruel web that protected his sanctum, he was clever enough to provide against chance shots that a wild victim might fire in the last moment of despair.
The Shadow’s laugh was mocking now. Here, with a barrier before and one behind, his sardonic mirth could not be heard. Sheets of steel? They were no terror to The Shadow. Not when he had time to deal with them!
His fingers found a crevice at the bottom of this barrier; the passage ended and the door extended below its termination. The Shadow stooped beneath the tiny light that hung just past the curtains, the light whose faint rays he had seen before. The Shadow peeled off his gloves, to reveal the gleaming fire opal.
He plucked at the right side of his cloak. The lining opened, and a small mass of blackish powder poured into the waiting left hand, which laid it carefully upon the floor. The hand poised back upward, and the iridescent gem gleamed with changing colors from the third finger. Then the right hand went to the other side of the cloak, and opened it. A grayish powder came forth.
The hands mixed the powders and let them sift down into the crevice at the bottom of the steel barrier. Then they produced a small metal tube, which, when opened, disclosed a glass vial. Uncorking the vial, the hands of The Shadow moved back and forth along the crevice, while a liquid trickled down to join the powder.
Then the black-clad form moved swiftly back toward the pit where it dropped and lay huddled on the floor just short of the edge. A moment later a dull explosion thudded from the barrier. Fumes of nauseating gas swept
