Elger turned toward the outer cavern that led to the secret passage to his house. He encountered vacated darkness. The Shadow had departed. Moving noiselessly through the gloom ahead, The Shadow was en route to the look-out house.
The Shadow was gone from Elger's den when the master crook arrived there.
CHAPTER XII. THE SHADOW'S CHALLENGE
MIDNIGHT had passed. All was quiet in the house on Timour Isle. Golga, seated in the darkness of the living room, was listening intently. He was under orders from Purvis Elger.
Hours ago, his chief had stolen in here to announce that George Dalavan was due to arrive tonight. Then Elger had departed. Golga had waited stolidly, until the time for Dalavan's arrival had neared. The big servant had become restless.
Pacing to the door of the living room, Golga listened. All silent in the hall. The guests were asleep. Outside winds were scarcely audible tonight. There were no disturbing sounds to cover noises that might occur within the house.
A scratching tap from the front door. Golga moved cautiously in that direction. Slowly, he drew back the bolts. He opened the door a few inches. Pallid moonlight showed a mustached countenance beyond. It was George Dalavan.
Stepping back, Golga admitted the arrival. He closed the door and bolted it, drew Dalavan into the living room, Cautiously, the servant whispered Elger's instructions. Dalavan nodded his understanding. He tiptoed out into the hall, back toward Elger's den.
Golga listened from the door of the living room. The servant wanted to be sure that none of the guests had heard Dalavan's entry. No sound disturbed the silence of the hallway. Golga moved back into the living room.
It was then that darkness stirred. From a doorway in the hall, blackness came to life. A shrouded form blocked the slight light that came from the rear hall. That shape became the figure of The Shadow, moving stealthily, unheard by Golga, toward the goal that Dalavan had chosen.
George Dalavan had entered, carrying his square-shaped suitcase. When he reached the den, he found the room deserted. Placing the case upon the desk, he opened it and removed four objects. The first was the Lamballe tiara; the second, the envelope containing Tolwig's fifty thousand dollars; the third was the sheaf of shorthand notations compiled by the dead investigator Bagland; the fourth, the receipt that Dalavan had signed.
With a suave grin, Dalavan spread these exhibits upon the desk. He looked toward the door of the bedroom, expecting Elger to appear. Seeing no sign of his chief, Dalavan lighted a cigarette and strolled about the study, glancing at books that were strewn there.
The door from the hall was opening, inch by inch. Keen eyes were peering inward. The door moved more swiftly. Blackness edged into the room. The Shadow, cloaked being of vengeance, closed the door behind him and stared steadily at Dalavan.
The murderer heard the slight click of the door. He turned about, expecting to see Golga. Dalavan's face showed sudden horror; the cigarette dropped from his trembling fingers. Once again, Dalavan was staring into the looming mouth of an automatic, gripped by an avenger in black.
DALAVAN froze, exactly as he had done at Tolwig's bungalow near Miami. He had discounted The Shadow's prowess; for his safe flight had given him confidence. Moreover, the New York episode had made Dalavan believe that he could shake The Shadow from his trail. Thus The Shadow's unexpected appearance, in Elger's own den, was a complete blow to Dalavan. The murderer quailed.
'I - I killed Tolwig,' gasped Dalavan. 'But it - it was in self-defense. It was Lovett who - who started it -'
Dalavan paused, incoherent. He could see no mercy in the gleam of The Shadow's eyes. However, as he stared helplessly, Dalavan saw something that The Shadow did not observe. The door from the hall was opening; its click had been drowned out by Dalavan's words.
With momentary rally, Dalavan steadied, hoping to hold The Shadow's attention. There was a further motion at the door; Dalavan saw Golga, crouching forward. The servant had a long-bladed knife. A few seconds more and Golga could spring upon The Shadow.
In those seconds, however, Dalavan overplayed. His lips compressed beneath his mustache. His eyes showed shrewdness. The Shadow saw that they were looking beyond.
The Shadow jabbed his .45 warningly toward Dalavan. As the crook quailed instinctively, The Shadow spun about. Instantly, he whirled toward the door.
Golga was already springing inward. The big menial's blade flashed from his driving hand. Despite Dalavan's unconscious betrayal, Golga, through quick action had gained the edge on The Shadow. An instant's pause for perfect aim might have been fatal to the black-cloaked warrior.
The Shadow fired at the hand that held the knife. Hard upon the automatic's spurt came a cry from Golga as the bullet clipped the servant's wrist. The down-coming hand seemed to jolt as its fingers opened. The long knife skimmed past The Shadow's shoulder, and clattered against the wall beside Dalavan.
The timely shot would have eliminated an ordinary foeman. But Golga was a vicious, deadly fighter. The man scarcely halted in his lunge. Shooting his free left hand forward, he hurled himself upon The Shadow and drove the avenger back against the wall.
Flaying arms gripped The Shadow in a furious grapple. Twisting, the cloaked fighter tried to wrestle free. He partially succeeded, then drove his left fist squarely to Golga's chin. The servant lost his hold. Clearing him, The Shadow swung toward Dalavan.
The cowered crook had become a fiend. During the momentary struggle, Dalavan had yanked a revolver from his pocket. Wielding the stub-nosed .32, he was leaping forward to clip The Shadow at close range. That advance was to prove his undoing.
DALAVAN had the bead on The Shadow. His aim would have served at a dozen feet as well as five. But Dalavan, in his maddened effort, had chosen the closer range. He was still surging forward as he pressed the trigger of his gun.
The Shadow's left arm was swinging as his right hand aimed. His gloved fist struck Dalavan's wrist just as the fellow fired.
The crook's hand jolted up; the bullet whistled through the brim of The Shadow's slouch hat. Dalavan, bringing his arm down in cudgel-like fashion, sought to loose a second slug.
The Shadow's automatic roared. Dalavan's surging body bounded in the air. With a frantic cry, the crook came jouncing upon his half-crouched foe. It was a death plunge; for The Shadow's bullet had found the murderer's heart. Yet dying, Dalavan was a man of fury.
The Shadow rolled sidewise beneath the writhing form that hit him. Dalavan's gun went clicking to the floor. The Shadow, twisting, freed himself from the murderer's body. Then, of a sudden, he dived sidewise on the floor.
Golga, seizing his knife with his left hand, had pounced back into the fray. His driving stroke was on its way even as The Shadow made his voluntary sprawl. The blade went wide, plunging on The Shadow. Golga poised for another stroke with the knife. A roar sounded from the floor.
The Shadow had delivered a backhand shot. Golga's body wavered; his left hand wobbled back and forth. Balanced on one knee, Golga stared straight ahead, while a sickly expression dominated his evil face.
The Shadow, rolling clear, watched the strange result. Golga was like a rocking statue. The knife loosed from his shaking hand. It dropped, blade foremost, into the floor. Then the servant's body crumpled. A fierce death gasp came from ugly lips as Golga's arms sprawled outward on the floor.
Lunges - shots - the knife strokes - all had followed with quick succession. In less than two dozen seconds, The Shadow had accounted for this pair of would-be slayers. Already the cloaked victor was at the desk. Unscathed, The Shadow was sweeping tiara, cash and notes into the case that Dalavan had brought.
With a fierce, mirthless laugh, The Shadow sprang to the door of the den and gained the rear hall. Quickly he crossed that space and merged with the front darkness.
A MOMENT later, Dashler's door banged open. The sailor came out into the hall.
'What's up?' was Dashler's growled query. 'Did I hear shots?'
A voice answered from the rear hall. Hearing footsteps, Dashler moved in that direction, to encounter Royne. The cadaverous servant reached the door of the study.
