Down in the sanctum, The Shadow heard the blast that came from above. His attackers had blown the inside entrance like they had handled the one outside. The Shadow paid little attention. He was busy.
From the filing cabinet, he was pulling out sheaves of papers that he needed, stuffing them temporarily beneath his cloak.
Foemen were hammering at the barrier beyond the curtains. Others were pounding the ceiling above the filing cabinet. The Shadow moved swiftly to the end wall of the sanctum. He parted curtains to reveal a small door. He slid it open; turned on lights.
Black walls glistened. So did benches, tables, other items of equipment; all were of black metal or smooth enamel.
This was The Shadow's laboratory. He had a use for it. He brought big beakers from shelves; poured out mixtures that fizzed in hydrometer jars. The Shadow lighted Bunsen burners. Though his actions were performed with amazing speed, his work seemed effortless.
Soon, the steel door of the laboratory slid shut. Its closing was drowned by the fierce hisses that came from the hydrometer jars. A thickening odor filled the lab. It was sweetish; but too much so to be pleasant.
That smell did not reach the sanctum. All remained silent in that black-shrouded room. Ominous minutes ticked past. They foretold that something was due. At the end of four such minutes, double disaster struck.
A SHARP blast shook the door behind the corner curtains. There was a pause; then a similar explosion sounded from the ceiling above the file cabinet. Half a minute later, invaders were pouring in from two directions.
They made their way through the remnants of the lower door. Others came down like monkeys, from the shattered ceiling. Lights shone on all the interior walls of the sanctum.
There was The Shadow's table, the lamp above it. The earphones, hanging on the wall beside the signal light. The filing cabinet, over which crooks had clambered.
There were other items; one, a small black coffer that contained The Shadow's archives.
Thugs glared suspiciously at the black drapes lining the walls, as if they expected The Shadow to blaze shots through those shrouding sable curtains. The invaders were ready to riddle the hangings, just as a precaution, when a harsh voice gave them orders.
It was Strampf. He came down through the opening above the file cabinet. At his command, henchmen covered every corner with their guns, while others ripped away the black curtains. Bare walls showed instead, except at one end of the sanctum. There, Strampf saw the closed door of the laboratory.
The cadaverous fellow chuckled. Strampf knew that the door could open only to an inner room. Crooks had found the only two ways that could possibly be exits from the sanctum.
Strampf ordered the thugs to roll up the curtains; also the black, tufted carpet that covered the floor.
Those bundles went up through the ceiling, where newcomers were working with an electric drill to widen the opening. Strampf sent the table up afterward; then the coffer.
While the drill's rattle continued, Strampf pulled open the drawers of the filing cabinet.
He found each drawer stuffed with records, arranged in classifications and subdivided into alphabetical groups. After that inspection, Strampf closed the drawers and ordered men to hoist the cabinet up through the hole.
It took four men to do it, for the cabinet was of heavy steel; but the hole had been enlarged sufficiently to take the cabinet through.
A ladder came down after the cabinet was gone. Strampf beckoned to the men with the drill. They descended, bringing a long insulated cord with them. They shoved the drill over to the laboratory door, where they saw Strampf point. The stooped man gave the order:
'Cut through it!'
The drill began its bite, slicing deep into the steel. Behind the men who handled it were six others, all with leveled revolvers. In a semicircle, they were aiming toward the yielding door.
Two more arrived with a big cylinder that had a hose and nozzle. They were ready to squirt poison gas into the lab, as soon as a hole had opened.
Behind the evil group stood Strampf, his eyes livid with eager pleasure. Turned to crime, that genius no longer limited himself to clockwork investigation methods. He was finding joy in the fruits of his own ugly labors.
Within a few minutes, Strampf would finish the deed that many had tried, but none had completed.
Though his name was unknown to these crooks who took orders from him, they would spread his name throughout the underworld.
Strampf was to be known as the man who gave death to The Shadow!
CHAPTER XIII. BELOW AND ABOVE
AS soon as a chunk dropped from the center of the steel door, Strampf and the others saw the glow of the laboratory lights. Cautious eyes took quick peeks into the inner room. Strampf stepped forward to view the sight for himself.
Those lights were clouded by a smoky vapor that filled the laboratory. Even the fizzing hydrometer jars were covered by the whitish gas. The roaring Bunsen burners made arrowlike tufts of flame amid the smoke. Strampf sniffed the heavy, sweetish odor. He stepped back.
That gas would put one to sleep, and more. Somewhere in the settling cloud, Strampf could picture The Shadow, prone on the floor. Rather than be met with bullets in a hopeless battle, The Shadow had chosen suicide. So Strampf reasoned, assuming that an oversupply of the sweet gas would be deadly.
There was another possibility. The gas might not prove fatal. Perhaps The Shadow hoped that his enemies would give him up for dead; and leave him to revive later.
Taking another look Strampf saw an obscure black object at the far end of the smoke-filled laboratory.
It was visible only when the gas took a chance swirl. Strampf was convinced that he saw the huddled shape of The Shadow.
If The Shadow wanted gas he could have it. Strampf beckoned to the men with the hose. They thrust the nozzle through the opening and pulled the lever of the cylinder. Deadly gas began to mingle with the white vapor in the lab.
Fortunately for Strampf, he had stepped back. That whitish gas had a purpose that Strampf did not suspect. The clue to it lay in the flames of the Bunsen burners.
The room had not quite reached its proper saturation when the drillers had finished making the hole.
Some gas had trickled through the opening; but the hydrometer jars were still increasing the amount.
Hardly had the underlings shoved the hose into the laboratory before the whitish vapor acted. The air was overcharged with gas. The burners ignited it. The whole air coughed with one fierce explosion that produced a blinding flash of flame.
The steel door shattered outward. The laboratory walls cracked; its floor collapsed. Down came the ceiling above it; the whole room became a crumbled pit. The floor of the sanctum quaked. Its stripped walls shuddered and began to cave.
The blasted door carried the two gas handlers with it. They lay dead, their bodies shattered. About them were crawling thugs, some crippled, others merely shaken. All were groping for the exit at the corner of the sanctum, to escape the scorching fumes that followed the flaming blast.
Strampf was by the ladder. He took one look at the ruined laboratory knew that no one could have stayed there and survived. He clambered up the ladder followed by two others. More had gone out by the other passage. The only ones who remained were dead.
Dead like The Shadow!
THAT thought strummed through Strampf's brain, as he reached the outside door. In the alleyway was a truck loaded with the trophies from the sanctum.
Strampf could hear shrieking sirens; the staccato gun barks that told wide battle was in progress.
Cordons of crooks were fighting off the law, while those in the center completed the destruction of The Shadow.
Clear air quickened Strampf's thoughts. He wanted to cover crime, to keep it a permanent mystery. That could be done. Strampf gave the right order. Henchmen were to set the charges that had originally been intended.
