The announcement came in a louder tone. It was a reminder to the waiting men of evil that Roberts Faraday was inviolate; that the victims of the raid should be Victor Venturi and his servant, Angelo.
In terse sentences, Crix had explained the details of his game. His words had filled Venturi with despair. The Italian saw how completely he had been tricked. Nothing could stop Crix now. Most insidious of all was the fact that Venturi’s death was essential to the scheme.
Never could one evil man have uncovered a surer way to immense wealth than had Crix. To Roberts Faraday, a man of reputed possessions, had come tremendous opportunity, which, to nine honest men, had never suggested itself. The third upon the list of contributors to a world-wide cause, Faraday, who called himself “Crix,” had plucked the ones before him, and was now planning to gather from the rest.
To Victor Venturi, there was no hope. The Italian understood the cold-blooded character of Crix. Here was a fiend who had slain others who had blocked his path. Mercy was not in Crix’s quota of emotions!
“Von Tollsburg’s papers are in my pocket,” leered Crix, in a low tone that betokened finality. “Yours will be there soon, Venturi!”
In a loud voice, Crix uttered the single word:
“Ready!”
There was a buzz in the adjoining room. The door burst open, and in came Bart Shallock and Bumps Jaffrey. Behind them were half a dozen mobsters — Cliff Marsland amid the evil-looking crew. Each of the invaders carried a revolver. When Crix motioned with a gun toward Victor Venturi, Bumps Jaffrey walked over and poked his revolver against the Italian’s ribs.
“Take the papers from him,” ordered Crix. “Pass them over to me.” Bumps Jaffrey obeyed, Crix questioning him while he acted.
“You have men blocking the hall and the side door?” quizzed the master crook.
“Four of them,” responded Bumps.
“Good,” stated Crix. “Take these two men and give them the works. Make a sure job of it.”
“Leave it to me,” laughed Bumps.
CLIFF MARSLAND faced a dilemma. Bumps Jaffrey was covering Victor Venturi and Angelo. Crix, with guns in readiness after pocketing Venturi’s documents, was also a menacing figure. The other mobsters were standing in readiness.
What should Cliff do? He could start a gun fight, in an effort to save the Italians. That was his first impulse, despite the futility of the deed.
On the other hand, he could bide his time. Perhaps there would be a chance to save them; if not, would it be preferable to let them die, so that he, Cliff Marsland, could lead The Shadow to the man who was in back of all this?
Roberts Faraday, alias Crix, was a contemptible being, who plotted newer and greater crimes. Cliff knew the menace of that gloating man behind the desk. At the same time, Cliff was loath to see Venturi and Angelo die. They had been under the protection of The Shadow. Here, Cliff represented The Shadow!
Chance brought Cliff Marsland to a prompt decision. It was Victor Venturi who forced the issue. The Italian emissary, hearing his death sentence, decided upon a bold course. With a rasping cry to Angelo in his native tongue, Venturi leaped toward Bumps Jaffrey. Angelo sprang in the same direction.
Springing backward, Bumps swung his arm upward with deliberation. His purpose was to shoot Venturi dead. Cliff, acting spontaneously, beat the gang leader to the shot. Instinctively, Cliff fired. His bullet lodged in Jaffrey’s shoulder. The gang leader dropped with a curse upon his lips.
The other mobsters leaped forward. They had taken Cliff’s shot as an error of aim, for Venturi was falling upon Bumps when Cliff fired. Again, Cliff’s weapon spoke, and the nearest of the surging gangsters fell. In the midst of this surprising attack, Cliff Marsland had an unexpected opportunity. There were two men, however, who caught his plan.
One was Bart Shallock; the other was Crix himself. As Cliff’s second shot roared, Bart raised a gun to slay The Shadow’s henchman. Crix, with quick thought, dodged away from the desk and dropped behind the end section, raising a revolver to wing Cliff in the back.
Venturi was leaping toward Bart Shallock — too late to stop the man’s aim. Angelo, seeing Crix as the chief enemy, was springing toward the desk. The mobsmen were stopped in their tracks, momentarily bewildered.
Bart Shallock’s finger rested coolly on the trigger. He was pressing before Cliff could turn to fire at him. But in the excitement, not a single pair of eyes discerned what was taking place at the wall behind the desk.
The huge door of the vault was swinging outward. Beyond its moving edge appeared the head and shoulders of a sinister being. A form in black — a slouch hat drawn down above two burning eyes — a hand that held a huge-mouthed automatic. All had appeared miraculously beside that moving door.
The automatic roared. A swift messenger of death struck Bart Shallock. The confidence man sprawled forward as he fired. The bullet from his revolver splintered through the floor.
Cliff Marsland’s life had been saved. A new warrior had entered the fray. The crew of evil men had encountered another foe — and the laugh that sounded through the room pealed forth the identity of this grim avenger.
It was the laugh of The Shadow!
CHAPTER XXII
THE SHADOW ANSWERS
THIS was the answer of The Shadow! Crix had decreed; The Shadow had replied. Crix had schemed; but The Shadow had forestalled the masquerading millionaire.
Knowing that Victor Venturi would be here tonight, awaiting the meeting that would take place between emissary and millionaire, The Shadow had entered this room before the arrival of Bumps Jaffrey’s gang. He had opened the vault which Crix had boasted no one could crack; and therein he had awaited all developments.
The timely appearance of The Shadow — his unexpected arrival from the one spot that seemed impossible — these were factors that brought fear to all who saw the figure in black as it came clear of the huge swinging door.
With one shot, The Shadow had felled Bart Shallock. His second automatic was sweeping upward. Its objective was the head of Crix, peering above the end of the desk.
The fiend saw the menace. He ducked for safety. At that instant, The Shadow would have ended the career of the supercrook, but for Angelo’s untimely action.
Venturi’s servant, leaping forward, hurled himself across the desk and blocked The Shadow’s aim just as the hand was on the trigger of the automatic.
Angelo’s mad plunge took care of Crix. The Shadow saw that the Italian was overpowering the master crook, beyond the end of the desk. There were others who must be aided: Cliff Marsland and Victor Venturi, for hostile guns were covering them now.
The Shadow’s automatics resounded through the room. Gangsters were his targets — evil men who fell screaming before the ferocity of his attack. Cliff Marsland pulled Venturi to the floor, and, crouching, joined The Shadow in the battle.
Turning, Cliff saw a gangster about to shoot him. Up came Cliff’s revolver, to beat the mobsman to the shot. But even as Cliff pressed the trigger, he saw the gunman crumple. A bullet from The Shadow’s automatic had taken care of the foeman while Cliff Marsland was firing.
Bumps Jaffrey, crawling on the floor, regained his gun and swung to take a pot shot at the figure of The Shadow. Bumps was partially behind the desk; but the gleaming eyes of The Shadow discerned his skulking figure. As Bumps was rising, one automatic turned momentarily in his direction. A burst of flame and the gang leader collapsed.
Outstretched forms of mobsmen — writhing figures that seemed other than human — these were the tokens of The Shadow’s fight. The answer to Crix had been a terrific attack, as effective as it was unexpected.