Gliding out through a little-used rear exit from the Club Cadiz, The Shadow paused near a darkened corner and blinked a tiny flashlight. Its rays were green, and the flashes caused a parked coupe to come in The Shadow's direction.
The man at the wheel was Harry Vincent, one of The Shadow's capable secret agents. Sliding in beside him, The Shadow instructed Harry to drive over to the avenue and park near the corner beyond Walder's.
The Shadow had a purpose in choosing that corner. He was certain that the truck would stop at the side door of the jewelry store, on a one-way street, where traffic headed toward the avenue.
Since Dwig had ordered his men to be in front of Walder's, they wouldn't be in a position to attempt a robbery until after the truck was under way. Then, they would logically come from the avenue and swing in back of the truck, to follow it.
As for making an attack before the jewels left the store, that would be sheer folly. Dwig had looked over the lay; certainly he knew how strongly Walder's was guarded.
Crooks wouldn't get past the front door, if they tried to rush the guards and reach the sapphire display before anyone came for it. Besides, Dwig had specified seven o'clock, which wouldn't give him time to organize such a foolhardy attempt.
SEVEN o'clock.
The hour had arrived. From his vantage point, The Shadow looked back along the avenue and saw a car sliding into a parking space. Evidently, some of Dwig's men had come by car, while others were to join them on foot.
Glancing down the side street The Shadow saw a small armored truck stopping at the delivery entrance.
Men in uniform, coming from the truck were meeting others from the store.
At the front door of Walder Co, guards were moving the last patrons out. The last of the lot was Margo Lane, and a taxicab wheeled in to take her as a passenger. The driver of that cab was Moe Shrevnitz, another of The Shadow's secret agents. Margo wasn't surprised to see Moe's cab arrive. It usually showed up whenever Lamont Cranston delegated Margo to special missions.
About to enter the cab, Margo paused, as though she had forgotten something. She had a chance to look back into the jewelry store. The place had cleared, and she saw Raymond Walder superintending the removal of the burglarproof display case that contained the rare star sapphires.
With Walder were a few other jewelers, taking a last look at the much-prized gems. Though those privileged visitors had not handled the sapphires, they were quite convinced that the six stones had been cut from the famous Star of Delhi. To them, the word of Raymond Walder - that he had seen and examined the great sapphire itself - was as good as the gold which formed the rings in which the six gems were mounted.
Margo stalled until she saw the case go out through the side door. From his observation point, The Shadow watched the rapid loading of the truck. Immediately, the armored vehicle moved forward and kept straight across the avenue, along the side street. By then, Moe's cab was under way. It took the corner and followed the truck.
Harry was sliding the coupe into gear. The Shadow's gloved hand restrained the start that the agent was about to make.
Next in order was to be the crook-manned car, and after it passed, The Shadow would follow it.
Meanwhile, Moe would be dropping from the trail, for The Shadow had given him a red blink from the little flashlight when the cab swung past the coupe.
With crooks on the truck's trail, as The Shadow expected them to be, Margo wouldn't be needed. That was why The Shadow had ordered Moe to come with the cab. Moe, or Shrevvy, as they often called him, would explain to Margo that The Shadow was taking over.
Like all The Shadow's plans, this one was well laid, but it was destined to go astray. Dwig's car was starting and the Shadow gave Harry the word to go, but to let the other vehicle swing past him. Then, abruptly, thugs made a stop directly in front of Walder's.
Before The Shadow could do more than reach for the door of the coupe, mobsters were out of their car and across the sidewalk, dashing into the jewelry store. There were six of them, all masked, and their leader was about the build of Dwig Brencott. The Shadow had time only to glimpse the masked crew before they disappeared inside the store.
The whole thing was crazy. Dwig must certainly have seen the armored truck pull away; he surely knew that the sapphires were inside it. This was the unexpected point that The Shadow had in no wise anticipated. Dwig's thrust was an attack upon an empty nest, from which the wanted prizes had been removed!
AT least, Dwig had accomplished one thing. Without knowing that The Shadow was on hand, he had beaten the black-cloaked fighter to his goal - which happened to be Walder's store, not the armored truck. Dwig had gained a margin of only a few dozen seconds, considering that he and his masked companions were at the store itself, whereas The Shadow was up at the corner ahead. But the time was enough for crooks to get in deadly work.
Guards were gone from the front door, for, with the truck's departure, their duty was ended. Walder held the center of the floor, where he was shaking hands with the visiting jewelers. While there were still some guards in the place, they had gone beyond the counters to change from uniforms to other clothes.
It was Raymond Walder who first saw the invasion and gave a frantic yell to his helpless friends. The other jewelers went ducking for the counters, easy targets for the guns that masked men brandished, had Dwig and his murderous pals wanted to shoot them down.
But they were choosing one victim only, Raymond Walder, and he was even easier than the rest. For Walder, brave when confronted by the grueling test, was holding his ground, shouting for the guards to return and aid him against the attacking tribe.
Six guns spoke almost as one. Walder took the bullets from that firing squad. Riddled by the close-range shots, the drab jeweler was dead before he struck the floor. Inspired by that show of courage, guards were springing across the counters, some still in uniform, others not, but all with guns that they had hurriedly snatched.
Mobsters were ready for them too. The masked leader gave a snarl, that no one could have identified with the smooth, affable tone of Dwig Brencott. Wheeling like a well-trained team, the killers were taking point-blank aim, each at a different human target. They intended to blast the guards as they had finished Walder: to leave no one to hamper their retreat to safety.
It was a moment made for murder, a triumph for these killers who had arrived ahead of The Shadow.
But their very surety was to be the factor that would end their delivery of further doom. They had wasted a few vital seconds; those seconds were enough to ruin them.
From the avenue door came a fierce, defiant challenge - the mockery that crimedom feared and hated; the tone that made deep-dyed crooks forget all other purposes and seek only to meet the taunter in a duel of death.
The laugh of The Shadow!
CHAPTER IV. HALF AN ANSWER
DWIG BRENCOTT and his masked companions had staged crime in reverse, by attempting what seemed a robbery in a place where booty could no longer be obtained. To that reverse, The Shadow was adding another twist. Announcing himself with strident, mocking challenge he was inviting enemies to treat him as they had done Raymond Walder.
The trouble was, they couldn't. Though they outnumbered The Shadow six to one, he held advantages which, taken separately, were slim, but added together made a total that Dwig and his pals failed to calculate.
Foremost of those advantages were The Shadow's guns, a brace of automatics, already drawn, that began a pointed tattoo while crooks were on the whirl. Two of the masked men ended their spins in sprawls before they could pull their gun triggers.
Others, too, were at a loss. In Walder, they had found a close-range target who hadn't tried to dive away from their guns. The Shadow was more distant, and crooks expected him to dive. They fired for the doorway, to get him when he tried to fade. But The Shadow's momentary twist was only a feint that came with the recoil of his automatics.
Instead of whipping back through the doorway, he took a long lunge forward, striking almost flat, but catching himself on his elbows as he slid along the tiled floor of the jewelry store. Bullets whizzed above The Shadow's head, high by feet rather than inches, while from the floor level he used each .45 to blaze answers at his
