He had settled with the enemy in the inner room. Now he would get the other!
It was Barney's mad desire that proved his undoing. He caught a glimpse of a scarred face turned in his direction. Like a flash, The Shadow was coming toward him. A side move by the sweatered gangster enabled him to escape Barney Gleason's first shot.
Before Barney could fire again, a long arm swung upward and crashed against his wrist. Barney's finger pressed the trigger. The bullet ended in the ceiling.
The Shadow's two automatics were empty! But now he was contending with a single enemy. Hardened mob leader that he was, Barney Gleason had encountered his match.
Powerful arms gripped his body and flung him, sprawling, across the room, to the wall, more than twenty feet away. But Gleason was tough. He came up fighting, his automatic still clutched by his right fist.
Again, The Shadow was upon him, struggling to wrest away the gun. Barney's left fist struck at the scarred face. He heard a sinister laugh from grimy lips as the blow passed futilely beside The Shadow's jaw.
His opponent seemed to slump, and Barney, with a triumphant cry, clutched at the face below him. His right wrist, held high by a powerful hand, tried to wrest itself free.
Up went the form of Barney Gleason, heaved by an irresistible force. Up it went and backward!
Barney's left hand swung away as he sought to protect himself from a fall. The automatic dropped from his helpless clutch as he made a wild, sweeping gesture to catch the sides of the broad window.
His effort was too late. His floundering form was flung furiously backward. Head foremost, Barney Gleason smashed into the window sash.
The frame gave way, and the gang leader's body shot backward, turning head downward as it plunged toward the paving of the alley, twenty feet below the window.
All was silent as The Shadow leaned over the form of Dick Terry. He was examining the wound that Barney Gleason's bullet had indicted.
Long minutes went by, amid unabated silence. There was a noise at the corner of the room behind the bar.
A door opened, and the frightened face of "Black Pete" peered into the room. Formidable as Black Pete appeared, he was a coward at heart. He kept this dive only because Barney Gleason demanded it. Black Pete moved cautiously into the room. He saw the bodies of the dead gangsters the remnants of Barney Gleason's mob.
Then he caught a glimpse of the man who stood by the door of the inner room. Cringing, Black Pete held up his arm.
The Shadow laughed.
Silence still reigned in that room of death, when a stumbling step sounded on the stairway twenty minutes later. Black Pete was alone, now, standing behind the bar. He looked up to see the bloodstained countenance of Gleason.
The gang leader spied Black Pete amidst the chaos, and stumbled into the room. He looked about suspiciously; then, seeing no sign of a scar-faced gangster, he limped over to the bar and leaned upon it. His bleary eyes noted that the form of Dick Terry no longer lay by the door of the inner room.
"Where — where are the guys that made all the trouble?" he questioned, in a faltering voice.
"One of 'em scrammed," replied Black Pete.
"What — what about the other?" was Barney's inquiry. "I plugged one over there by the door."
"You got him, all right," declared Black Pete. "A couple of gorillas came in here after the other fellow scrammed. I told 'em to get rid of the body. That guy wasn't no gunman. I didn't want his corpse around here."
"They took it away?"
"Yeah. They were a couple of regular guys. Don't know their names, though. Told 'em to see you later, but they said it didn't mean nothin' to 'em, helpin' me out of a jam." Barney Gleason nodded. He knew the ways of gangdom. He was satisfied that Dick Terry was dead. That had been accomplished, even though it had meant the mopping up of his mob.
"I'd have got both of them," growled Barney Gleason, "but I slipped while I was fighting the big bozo by the window. Went backward, right through the sash.
"If it hadn't been for that little roof down below, it would have been my finish I couldn't hold on, but it broke my fall. Even at that, I was knocked cold when I landed in the alley." Barney swept his arm weakly about the room to indicate the dead members of his mob.
"Sit tight, Pete," he said. "I'm going out to round up the rest of the mob. We'll get back here and cart the bodies out. Keep mum if the cops should come in. Maybe we'll run into that tough guy yet." Barney Gleason left Black Pete's place. When the loud falls of his stumbling footsteps had ended on the stairway, the door opened beside the bar, and the scar-faced gangster stepped into view.
"You played it the way I told you," he said to Black Pete. "You're not one of the mob. You're not even a crook. I know all about you, Black Pete. You'd be out of this racket to-morrow, if you could get out.
"You're afraid of Barney Gleason. He's got you where he wants you. Well" — a short laugh came from the speaker's lips — "you'll have your chance to get clear. Keep mum. That's all. Stick to the story you just told. Understand?"
The eyes that gleamed threateningly at Black Pete were cold and merciless. The stocky, black-haired man understood. He knew what this strange personage could accomplish. The bodies on the floor were mute testimony.
Black Pete nodded.
"That fellow is all right, now," declared the scar-faced gangster. "I'm taking him out with me. Remember, Pete. Keep mum."
The man disappeared and returned from the other room, carrying the form of Dick Terry over his shoulder. The heavy Texan's body was no burden for this man who had mopped up Barney Gleason's mob.
As the carrier and his load crossed the room, Black Pete began to shudder at the sound of a sinister laugh that suddenly pervaded the room.
It was a mirthless, mocking tone. It was a laugh that Black Pete knew, although he had never before heard it.
The laugh of The Shadow!
It told the identity of that strange fighter who had won his amazing conflict. The gangster who had just left — taking a helpless man with him — was The Shadow!
As much as Black Pete feared the wrath of Barney Gleason, he feared the very name of The Shadow more. Now, after the demonstration he had witnessed, Black Pete realized that a single word of betrayal on his part would spell his instant doom.
A half hour later, when Barney Gleason returned with some mobsmen, Black Pete maintained a discreet silence. He did not mention his belief that the unknown fighter was The Shadow. Barney Gleason had the same idea, but he said nothing to Black Pete. He intended to mention the fact to no one.
He smiled in a satisfied manner. He had done the work which Martin Slade required.
Dick Terry was dead, despite The Shadow. That was sufficient.
Thus had the hand of The Shadow thwarted the death of Dick Terry. At the same time, The Shadow had lulled Barney Gleason into the belief that Dick Terry had been slain!
Dick Terry was still among the living — but only The Shadow knew!
Chapter XVI — A Threat Is Met
Martin Slade walked with a slight swagger as he entered the lobby of the Callao Hotel. One week ago, Barney Gleason and his mob had done their efficient work of killing Dick Terry, although Barney remarked that the Texan had fought like a steer. During that week, Slade had lived an eventful life. He was no longer Martin Slade. He had assumed the identity of James Telford, and had been welcomed back by his overjoyed father.
Slade smiled to himself as he rode upward in the elevator. He could still picture the face of Thomas Telford when he had bumped into the waiting man in the concourse of the Grand Central Station. Rajah Brahman's prediction had come true. Thomas Telford had found his missing son in a place thronged with many people.