Arlene hadn't realized how the fight had gone. It was the first time that she had witnessed The Shadow in battle. Fearing for her rescuer, Arlene dashed to the apartment door, yanked it open, to call for aid. A man from the hallway blocked her. She whipped back at sight of a pointed revolver.
Springing into the room, the fellow grabbed her, pulled her out into the hallway, toward a flight of stairs at the back.
Before the crook could do murder, he heard the laugh of The Shadow. It came from the door of the apartment. Looking across Arlene's shoulder, that last invading thug spied the cloaked avenger.
The Shadow could not see the glowering face beyond Arlene, but he spied the hand that clutched the girl's neck. It was a hand he recognized, for it lacked a second finger. Moreover, it had a jagged scar that ran almost to the wrist.
That hand belonged to a crook named Bosco Treff. Oddly, it was to save its owner's life.
The Shadow wanted a living thug, who could tell the name of the leader who controlled the ill-assorted band that showed up everywhere. Cobber Lokum had died too soon. Bosco Treff was going to live a while.
Bosco did what The Shadow expected. He responded to The Shadow's challenge by flinging Arlene aside. With the same move, Bosco whipped back into the darkness of the stairway, to take aim. The Shadow saw the glimmer of the revolver in Bosco's one good fist.
Already aiming, The Shadow squeezed the trigger of his automatic. The bullet clanged Bosco's gun; it should have ricocheted to crack the thug's wrist. Bosco's hand chanced to be twisting when the slug arrived. His gun jounced from his numbed fingers, but he received no wound.
Madly, Bosco dived for the stairway. Again, he was fortunate. The Shadow aimed for his shoulder, not his head. Stumbling, Bosco pitched far enough ahead. The bullet barely grazed his coat. The Shadow followed, sweeping Arlene along with him.
There was safety in that closed stairway; much more than in the lighted hall, where some forgotten hoodlum might pop into sight.
THE stairs turned too sharply for The Shadow to get another shot at Bosco. Outside the house, the lucky thug made a corner of the building before The Shadow could spot him in the darkness. A clatter of footsteps marked Bosco's mad departure.
From all about, Arlene could hear the shriek of sirens. She knew that police were on the way here. She feared for The Shadow, wondering if his part would be understood. Arlene wanted her rescuer to be away; and she was anxious to go with him.
She had feared the attack that had come tonight. It fitted with her qualms concerning Dick. Though she hadn't expressed the thought to Lawsham, she had felt that she would find trouble if she made efforts to locate Dick Remingwood.
At the present moment, Arlene's chief worry was The Shadow's dilemma. She gasped for him to go ahead, saying that she would try to follow. If she failed to get clear she could talk to the police. She would tell them about the crooks, but would not mention The Shadow.
Arlene's protests were ignored. The Shadow drew her along as he picked a course through passageways and courtyards. They reached a rear street and crossed it, to enter another maze. It was bewildering, the way The Shadow picked his course with the glow of that tiny flashlight.
Then they were in a taxicab that arrived from a darkened parking spot, the instant that The Shadow wanted it. A speedy driver was wheeling them from one street to another, carrying them from the zone where the police cars had converged.
Arlene was listening to a whispered voice - a tone that carried a weird chill, yet to her ears was inspiring with the confidence it gave. The Shadow was telling her of a place where she could stay in safety; there to await word from him.
The girl spoke her agreement. In faltering but expressive words, she thanked her rescuer. The cab had slowed as it approached a traffic light; Arlene's eyes were lowered, as she spoke to the unseen personage in the thick darkness beside her.
When the cab jerked forward into the lights of the avenue, Arlene raised her head, hoping to meet The Shadow's gaze. Her eyes showed their beauty as they widened; but no one was present to admire them.
Arlene was alone, in the back seat of the cab. In the same mysterious way that he had come from blackness, The Shadow had departed!
CHAPTER XII. THE PAST LINK
LATE the next afternoon, Professor Lawsham had another caller - a young man who alighted from a cab and promptly ascended the steps of the old house. As he stood there in the dusk, the young chap took a sidelong glance toward the street.
No prowlers were visible; nor did parked cars look suspicious. Nevertheless, the street was a gloomy one; the sort that could hold lurkers. Despite that, the young man showed no tenseness. He was quite calm when a servant opened the door to admit him.
The visitor tendered a card. He was ushered into a parlor. Soon, Lawsham arrived from the laboratory; the professor was still studying the card that had been brought to him.
That card bore the name: 'Star Detective Agency', with street address and telephone number. In a lower corner were the small-printed words: 'Harry Vincent, Representative.'
Looking up from the card, the professor eyed Vincent. He saw a clean-cut young man, well-dressed and earnest of countenance. Lawsham was a trifle surprised. He had expected to meet a hard-boiled visitor.
Harry Vincent was much more presentable than Lawsham expected a private detective to be.
Politely, Lawsham asked: 'May I inquire the reason for this call, Mr. Vincent?'
'Certainly,' replied Harry. 'That is why I came here - to tell you the details. It concerns Miss Delton.'
Professor Lawsham showed self-annoyance.
'How stupid of me!' he exclaimed. 'I promised Arlene that I would arrange for an investigator. I entirely forgot the matter. I must telephone her at once, to apologize.'
Harry stopped the professor before he reached the hallway.
'Haven't you heard about Miss Delton?' inquired the visitor. 'It was on the front page of the newspapers.'
Lawsham displayed alarm. Then:
'I never read the newspapers. I am too busy. But, tell me' - his tone showed a tremor - 'has something happened to Arlene?'
'She disappeared last night,' replied Harry, 'after a mob of raiders shot up her apartment. The police are baffled; they can find no reason for the attack.'
Harry leaned forward, added confidentially:
'The police know nothing of Arlene's connection with Dick Remingwood.'
Lawsham was impressed. He began to regard Harry Vincent as a very keen young chap. That was not surprising, for Harry played a much more important part than that of representative for a detective agency. Actually, Harry Vincent was an agent of The Shadow.
'Don't credit me with anything clever, professor,' warned Harry, with a smile. 'This afternoon, I was the last person in the office, when a telephone call came there. The girl who talked to me said that she was Arlene Delton.'
'Ah!' Lawsham sighed relief. 'Then Arlene is safe!'
'Very safe, apparently,' declared Harry. 'She even refused to tell me where she was, until after I talked with you. She said that I should wait here, for another telephone call.'
'Wise of her,' agreed Lawsham. 'I suppose she wants you to find Dick Remingwood.'
'Yes. As soon as possible. She thought that you might aid me in the search.'
PROFESSOR LAWSHAM paced the floor. He paused, at last, to give his detailed version of the case, much as The Shadow had heard him tell it to Arlene, the night before.
'Frankly, Mr. Vincent,' concluded Lawsham, 'I am still at loss. Remingwood is certainly involved with crooks; but whether they are working with him, or against him, is a question.'
Harry nodded solemn agreement.
