There, dangling in the lock, Dolthan had found a key. He had turned it; gun in hand, he was opening the door at the moment of The Shadow’s return to the hall.
Dull light revealed Dolthan’s figure. The Shadow saw the crook bound inward. He listened. An instant later, his ears caught a hoarse cry of surprise; a sound that turned to the snarled tone of a cornered beast.
SURE that his henchmen would win their fray, Dolthan had headed through the hall with murderous intent. Within the lighted room, he had expected to find the niece whose life he sought. Instead, he had come upon two foemen whom he had forgotten.
At one side of the room was Daggart, pale-faced but determined as he held a leveled gun; at the other side, Croy, his huge face stonelike. Like Daggart, Croy was ready with a revolver. Rufus Dolthan was between them.
The arch-crook’s face showed ratlike in the light. Slowly, Dolthan moved back a pace; then, taking advantage of the fact that his enemies were ready to give quarter, the crook sprang forward, choosing Croy as his first foe.
With wild fury, Dolthan ducked past the big man’s aiming arm to thrust his gun straight for Croy’s heart.
Daggart fired. Teeth gritting, the pale-faced secretary showed determination as well as good aim. Croy had saved his life when Blissop had sought it. Daggart’s chance for repayment had arrived. His grit served him in the pinch.
As Croy’s revolver covered Dolthan, the gray-haired crook collapsed. He sank to the floor; he lost his hold on his gun. Mortally wounded, he began to cough out his evil life.
Footsteps pounded through the hallway. Taussig Kermal dashed into the room, carrying Parrell’s revolver. Behind the lawyer followed Goodling and Lanford; after them, Doctor Claig. All stopped short as they joined Kermal.
Straight across the room yawned blackness. Shutters were opened; window was unbarred. Myra Dolthan had gone. Croy and Daggart had remained here in her stead.
A gleam of triumph showed on Croy’s rugged features. Daggart was nodding as he viewed the dying form of Rufus Dolthan. Daggart’s left arm was still in its sling; his right hand held the revolver with which he had delivered his timely shot.
Taussig Kermal spoke his commendation as Dolthan’s last cough ended. The others crowded about Daggart. The babble of their praising tones could be heard in the long hall. The Shadow stepped from his alcove.
Again, his weird laugh sounded. Quivering echoes returned their mockery from the walls. Turning, The Shadow swept into the room where crooks lay sprawled.
Hazzler, crippled by the wall, looked up and tried to snarl as his bleary eyes saw the shape that moved swiftly toward the window.
Then, as the wounded minion’s snarl failed him, The Shadow was gone. Blackness only where he had merged with those heavy draperies beyond Kermal’s desk. Only the ticking of the desk clock sounded amid the hush that followed, until, from beyond the house, came the weird tones of a fading laugh.
The Shadow, triumphant, had departed. He had dealt with men of crime. He had made allowance for Rufus Dolthan’s eagerness to kill, by preparing a trap wherein two determined men had been ready for the supercrook.
Croy’s strength or Daggart’s courage; The Shadow had known that he could rely on one or the other. To Daggart had come the opportunity to fire the shot that spelled the end of Rufus Dolthan. To The Shadow had come the real triumph.
CHAPTER XXI
WORD TO THE VICTORS
“BUT Myra? What has become of her?”
Taussig Kermal put the question as he stood beside his desk. Doctor Claig was tending Hazzler; the wounded man’s testimony would be a record against Rufus Dolthan’s past. But Kermal knew that Hazzler could tell nothing. It was to Croy and Daggart that he spoke.
“I don’t know, sir,” stated the secretary. “The mystery began when I went to summon Miss Dolthan. I rapped at her door, sir. I heard her unlock it; the door opened slowly.”
“And then?”
“Something black enveloped me. I was powerless. I had no chance to cry out. Someone switched out the light; I found myself upon the floor. Yet there was no struggle; no sudden jolt. Just a momentary smothering that stifled me for the time.”
“What next?”
“I heard a voice — a whispered voice — warning me to be quiet and to make no move. Metal pressed my neck. It was a gun muzzle. I had my own revolver, sir; but I dared not reach for it. Then, after a long time — at least so it seemed — I heard another rap upon the door.”
“Was that when Croy arrived?”
“Yes. The gun was pressing me no longer; but the voice repeated a warning. It was uncanny, that voice. I could not bring myself to disobey it. Perhaps I was somewhat of a coward, Mr. Kermal—”
“You have proven your bravery, Daggart. Proceed.”
“The door opened suddenly. There was a struggle in the darkness. A figure sprawled beside me, so suddenly that it seemed incredible. The door must have closed; for I heard the voice speaking a new warning as it had to me. I knew that Croy must be the man beside me.”
“Enough for the moment, Daggart,” said Kermal. “What happened to you, Croy?”
“Just what Daggart said,” grumbled the big man. “It was the same with me, Mr. Kermal. I was smothered, I made a grab and found myself plopped on the floor. There was the voice, too. That gun muzzle Daggart talked about.
“Like a ghost, Mr. Kermal. It wasn’t human, anyway. Look” — Croy stretched out his huge arms and doubled his big fists — “who’s going to roll me over like I was nothing. Anybody human? No, sir.”
Kermal paused, speculating. He was inclined to agree. He remembered The Shadow’s laugh. He had a fleeting recollection of a sweeping figure in black. It was all uncanny; bullets had been real, yet even they had come in a deluge that seemed incredible.
“The whisper came again, Mr. Kermal,” explained Daggart. “It was friendly — yet fearful. It told us to wait; that we must be ready to fight for you.”
“The voice said that?” queried Kermal. “When?”
“Shortly after Croy arrived. There was something weirdly persuasive in the tone. There, in pitch darkness, it was ghostly. There was nothing to do but obey.”
“What was your impression, Croy?” questioned Kermal.
“What Daggart has said, Mr. Kermal,” nodded the big man. “I can’t tell it the way he does; but it wasn’t human, that voice wasn’t. You had to do what it said.”
KERMAL looked toward Goodling and Lanford who were listening with interest. The lawyer shook his head, wondering.
“Do you realize what this means?” questioned Kermal. “This weird creature — whoever, whatever he was — had divined my purposes. He knew that I was right; that Rufus Dolthan was wrong.”
“We waited in the room, sir,” resumed Daggart. “The voice told us to remain where we were; to put on the light when we heard four raps against the door. Then to wait until someone came; to be ready.”
“But to stay there,” added Croy, “no matter what happened. Remember that, Daggart?”
The secretary nodded.
“A while went by,” said Croy to Kermal. “Then came the four raps. They were like the voice. You’d have thought a ghost had tapped the door. We turned on the light. The room was empty.”
“You had heard no one go out?” demanded Kermal.
“Absolutely not, sir,” responded Daggart. “Croy tried the door. It must have been locked on the other side.”
“The key was out of the inside,” put in Croy.
“I opened the shutters,” resumed Daggart. “The bars were no longer there. Before I could investigate further, we heard the shooting begin. Croy wanted to start out. I stopped him.”