room.
Greaser and Garry tumbled to the floor. Graham fancied that he caught a whispered tone of mockery from the door. He wondered who had been there - the space was empty now. Still dazed, Graham turned to see Greaser, wounded, aiming in his direction. Before the crippled gangster could control his wavering hand, Graham leveled his own gun and fired two bullets into the man’s body.
Staring at the forms that were lying on the floor, Graham had one new thought - Wolf Daggert. Clutching his revolver firmly in his left hand, Graham pushed his way through the passage to the bank. He found a light switch and clicked it with the barrel of his revolver. The big banking room was illuminated instantly. Graham saw that the place was empty.
He knew the answer. Wolf Daggert, cowardly as ever, had fled for safety when he heard the roar of guns. The yellow gang leader had evidently dived through the broken window and made a quick escape, leaving his companions to win or lose.
Weakly, Graham moved back into the house. He came to the room where the bodies lay. He knew that some rescuer had saved him from death - but why had the stranger departed, leaving him alone?
Four men - three crooks and Graham’s uncle - all seemed dead. Birds of a feather, thought Graham. He felt singularly apart from all of them. Sickened from loss of blood, Graham stared at the forms on the floor. He looked closely at Ezra Talboy’s face. He saw his uncle’s eyelids flicker. The old man was still alive!
GRAHAM felt no pity toward his uncle. Yet the new turn of mind which he had gained tonight had given Graham a softer feeling toward life, had purged him of the brutality which had never been more than an assumed phase of his character.
A telephone was in view. Graham dropped his revolver and lifted the receiver. He spoke as he heard an operator’s voice.
“Call Sheriff Taussig,” ordered Graham. “Tell him to come at once to Ezra Talboy’s home. Call for a physician - at the hospital -“
The young man dropped the receiver. He sprawled into a chair and clutched his wounded arm. Then, as the throbbing dulled, Graham stared toward his uncle. Ezra Talboy, with an effort, had propped himself against the side of the great chair in which he had been tortured. He was surveying Graham with curious, steady gaze.
Coldly, Graham Wellerton stared in return. For the first time in many years, he was face to face with his uncle, the man whom he detested most in all the world. The two were alone, in a room with three dead crooks lying on the floor.
As they gazed with challenging eyes, neither Graham Wellerton nor Ezra Talboy knew that another presence was close at hand; that The Shadow, the stern fighter who had eliminated their common enemies, was watching them from the gloom beyond the doorway!
CHAPTER XV
A FAMILY REUNION
“WHO are you?”
As Ezra Talboy put the question to his nephew, Graham Wellerton was astonished to observe the old man’s recuperative powers. He knew that his uncle was severely wounded; nevertheless, Ezra Talboy seemed to evidence no concern about himself. He was more interested in learning the identity of this stranger who had come to rescue him.
Graham Wellerton eyed his uncle coldly. He could see the avaricious gleam upon the old man’s face. He could see the scheming expression which he had always remembered Ezra Talboy to possess. With a grim smile, Graham gave a direct reply.
“I am your nephew,” he declared. “I am Graham Wellerton, your sister’s son.”
“I thought so.” Ezra Talboy chuckled weakly. “My nephew - come back to play the part of a good Samaritan. I suppose you feel that you have done a noble deed - to rescue me from those who were torturing me.”
“Some may feel that I deserve a bit of credit.”
“Some may,” snorted Ezra Talboy, “and some may not.
“I have no thanks to offer. I had no use for your father, with his foolish pride that he called ‘honor.’ I have no use for you, now that I observe you to possess his ridiculous characteristics.”
Graham Wellerton stared in amazement. Of all the despicable wretches he had ever known, Ezra Talboy was the worst. But for his own wounded plight, Graham would have yielded to the impulse of throttling the old scoundrel.
“I give you no thanks,” repeated Ezra Talboy. “I heard you were in town, and I was waiting for the time when you would come to greet me. You have chosen an excellent opportunity. I suppose you were passing by, wondering if it was too late to drop in and see your old uncle. You noticed that something was wrong, and came in to aid me.
“Do you know what this means? You are an intruder - like these dead men on the floor - so far as the law is concerned. You will be questioned when the sheriff arrives. I shall not say a word to save you.”
As the old man chortled gleefully, Graham Wellerton stared in amazement. He had classed Ezra Talboy as a black-hearted wretch; he did not believe such ingratitude was possible. He began to realize that his own meanness toward Ralph Delkin must have been a hereditary weakness. Ezra Talboy’s calloused attitude was the most incredible human quality that any man could possibly possess.
“I detest you,” declared Ezra Talboy. “I detest you because you remind me of your father. His honor - bah! I ended that folly when I deprived him of all he possessed. He was always proud of his son, always hypocritically sad because I had no children to be my heirs. He died penniless - your father - and now you return to reap a new harvest of my hatred!”
Ezra Talboy spat the final words, and his eyes glittered as he watched for their effect upon Graham Wellerton. The nephew, however, had caught the evil spirit of his uncle’s tone. With sudden inspiration, Graham determined to beat the old man at his game.
“You old fossil!” ejaculated Graham contemptuously. “Do you think I came here to save your useless hide? Do you think I have been living in Southwark in hopes of making friends with you? Do you think I threw myself into a battle with these bank robbers only on your account?
“You never were so wrong in all your life. Let me tell you a little about myself. I am a bank robber - and a capable one. These men who came here tonight were my underlings. They had double-crossed me. Their new leader - the only one who escaped - had tried to kill me.
“I suspected that they would come to Southwark. I was waiting for them. I knew they would attack your bank. I have been watching; and when they entered here tonight, I followed. You see the result. Three of the four are dead. One has escaped. He is a fugitive.
“You and I are alike, Uncle Ezra. We both are crooks. You work legitimately; I by stealth. You speak of revenge. What is your picayune grudge against me - my father’s son - compared to the score I had to settle with these yellow rats who now lie dead?
“You do not know the joy of vengeance. Nor do you know the joy of evil. You compared me with my father; the comparison is false. The qualities that I have inherited are yours - and I have done more with them in a few years than you have accomplished in a lifetime.
“I am no hero. I am a crook. I could kill you now; but I do not intend to do so. I am quite capable of handling any situation which may arise. When the sheriff arrives, I can convince him that I came here purely by chance. As a liar, I am as competent as you, Uncle Ezra.”
The sarcasm of Graham’s statement had its effect. By taking a negative treatment of everything that the old man had said, Graham had gained Ezra Talboy’s admiration. Graham’s story, true enough to be convincing, caused Talboy to stare in utter amazement at his nephew.
At last, the old man’s feelings became apparent. Vainly trying to arise from his resting place, Ezra Talboy extended his hand. He had recognized in his nephew a man as crooked as himself. Never in his life had Ezra Talboy paid tribute to anyone who was good of nature. His own soul was evil. He appreciated viciousness.
“So” - a coughing spell interrupted Ezra Talboy’s statement - “so - you take after your uncle. Good - good boy. I am very well satisfied. You are - a crook -“
The tones ended in a hoarse chuckle. Again, Ezra Talboy coughed. His eyelids closed. Graham Wellerton,
