Something went clattering downward into space — the square sheet of metal that The Shadow’s hands had taken from the roof. The flashlight clicked. Its glare revealed a tall figure in black, hanging by one hand from the upper edge of the elevator. The light pointed downward. A shaft-like abyss lay below.
The Shadow had foreseen this trap. Mechanically prepared to dispose of an unsuspecting intruder, the bottom of the car had fallen — and no living man could possibly have found a hold upon the smooth-walled sides of either elevator or shaft!
Hanging against the side of the lift, The Shadow retained his position without effort. His free hand turned the rays of the flashlight toward the open side of the elevator. The smooth, slippery surface of the shaft revealed the narrow crevice of a sliding door.
With flashlight extinguished, The Shadow probed the edge of the door. His hand was employing a tool of metal that clicked as it slipped into the crack. A hidden catch yielded; a door slid back of its own momentum and the tall form in black swung clear of the car, coming to rest in the dim light of a small entry.
The Shadow made a quick inspection of the door to the elevator shaft. The operation of the car was obvious; its mechanism was set to foil all those who might come up without first warning of their approach. Had the device been set to receive a visitor, the door would have opened automatically upon the arrival of the lift.
The Shadow closed the door to the shaft, and faced straight ahead. Before him was a curtained archway, the only exit from this place. The Shadow advanced, and his blackened hands spread aside the draperies. The act disclosed a dark, wide passage; beyond that, another pair of curtains.
Sweeping the light of his torch along the darkened corridor, The Shadow measured the distance; then examined all the surroundings. The way seemed open. Here, on the fourth floor of the building, must lie the sanctum of Choy Lown.
What danger could be ahead? The elevator had been designed to drop invaders to their doom. This quiet passage looked like nothing more than a simple entrance to a room beyond. Yet The Shadow sensed a snare. He was resolved to enter the passage; before doing so, he was preparing for any emergency.
Ready, The Shadow stepped through the curtains. They swished together behind his tall, spectral form.
With light spotted low upon the floor ahead, The Shadow moved into the strange passage. Something clicked above; the man in black sprang forward; a solid wall of steel dropped behind him.
The Shadow’s laugh echoed along the corridor. He had encountered such tricks before; he was prepared to combat them. Should return prove necessary, there were ways whereby he could, in time, force open the most formidable barrier. But still, The Shadow’s course lay ahead. Carefully, step by step; the tall invader moved along the passage; then, suddenly, The Shadow drew back.
HE had reached a crucial spot in the advance — a widening of the passage; and his halt had been made just in time. Less than six inches ahead, the floor, set off by an invisible spring, had dropped in two hinged sections. The flashlight showed a yawning hole some twenty feet in breadth.
A sullen, muffled thump of mechanism had begun. Turning, The Shadow threw the beams of light upon the steel barrier that had dropped behind him. That heavy wall was creeping forward, impelled by some powerful force. It had been set to force the unwary entrant to this passage into the gulf of death which now blocked the path!
Between the barrier and the pit, The Shadow had a hopeless choice. With all his skill, he could not hope to stop that moving mass in the short time allowed. Turning, The Shadow faced the abyss and stood upon its very edge. His light revealed the opposite side of the passage.
The Shadow’s path lay ahead, but only a superhuman effort could enable him to take it. A leap across that pit was possible, with a running start; but the approaching wall of steel, pressing through the passage like a huge ram plowing through a snow bank, would soon eliminate the short space in which the leaper could gain sufficient spring.
The Shadow did not hesitate. He threw his tall form flat against the moving wall. With long, swift strides, he sprang to the edge of the pit and shot through the air with hands upraised, bound for the safety on the other side.
It was a bold, powerful leap, planned in the nick of time, and executed to perfection but it came to an unexpected end. Hurtling through the air, The Shadow’s body encountered an invisible obstacle that gave beneath his form, then swung back and forth with elastic action.
The Shadow was hanging in mid-air, swaying above nothingness, suspended by an unseen clutch. His hands, outstretched before him, were tangled in skeinlike threads. His body was wrapped in the folds of a network; his legs were hampered by a tangling grip.
The Shadow was in the toils of Choy Lown; he had fallen into the master snare of the Oriental schemer.
He was twisted in the midst of a gigantic web, which held him helpless. Below that web yawned certain death!
CHAPTER XV. CHOY LOWN SPEAKS
THE snare, designed by Choy Lown, was one of the most subtle traps ever conceived by human cunning. The artful old Chinaman had scorned so easy a device as the simple pushing of a victim into space. The open pit which had appeared so suddenly in The Shadow’s path had been planned as a blind that would make the victim take the quickest, shortest course to safety.
The Shadow’s flashlight had not shown the web that stretched from wall to wall above the pit. Pliant, wirelike threads, patterned after the complicated design of a spider web, had been joined to form a gigantic meshwork that could capture a human form.
The snare was not a single web; it was composed of many portions, so cleverly arranged that the force of a flying leap would completely entangle a person and render him helpless. This was the obstacle with which The Shadow now was struggling.
The darkness made The Shadow’s task seem impossible. His flashlight was beneath his cloak; his hands were so engaged that they could not reach it. Each effort to fight against the all-resisting meshwork meant further entanglement in the web.
The Shadow’s twisted form ceased its struggle. The black-garbed figure lay huddled in mid-air, like a gigantic fly awaiting slow death in the web of a mammoth spider. To fight against these toils was useless.
As long minutes drifted by, The Shadow did not move. He lay like a creature without life. The gently swaying web retained him comfortably, yet formed a prison that offered no escape. Should those slender bonds have broken, the captive would have fallen to his death; but the threads held, for they had been woven by the thousands.
Choy Lown could have intended but one fate for the victim who might fall into this mesh. That fate was death. Long, continued struggles would bring weakness. Death would be slow, but positive. No mercy would come from Choy Lown. He had planned this as a huge trap for the first human who might reach it.
Death to intruders was Choy Lown’s philosophy.
In contrast to a lingering submission, there was one other course. A furious struggle within these bonds would snag the victim further, but could suffice to break the meshwork from its moorings. Then the web would fall, carrying its helpless prisoner down to the bottom of the pit, where death would be immediate.
That was the extent of Choy Lown’s consideration. Here, while strength still belonged to him, The Shadow might choose between quick death or lingering doom. He had been halted on the verge of his objective; this was to be his end.
THE motionless position of the huddled black shape seemed to indicate that The Shadow had chosen to submit to his fate without an effort. But after many minutes had passed, the cloaked man began to move.