Weston Levis, dropping behind a large chair, saw Hadley falter in his aim. He saw Harry Vincent and Harvey Wendell gaining their guns. He saw Zach Telvin and Lefty Hotz respond with trigger fingers.
Five men on the point of firing! Hadley had the bead on the crooks; they, in turn, had the advantage over Harry and Wendell. Hadley’s unfortunate lapse — a momentary hesitation between Zach and Lefty — would have proven fatal for Harry Vincent and Harvey Wendell, but for an unexpected aid that came from another quarter.
Eyes from the dark had been upon this scene. Automatics were looming at the opened window, each clenched in a black-gloved fist.
The Shadow had arrived to meet the invasion of the men of crime!
The automatics roared the first shots of the fray. Leaden messengers sped forth just as Zach and Lefty were pressing their triggers. Zach’s right hand wavered. His revolver shot, too late to be stopped, was rendered null. The bullet from Zach’s gun whizzed past Harvey Wendell’s ear, and plastered itself against the wall.
Lefty Hotz collapsed as Zach Telvin wavered. Clutching his right hand to his breast, the gangster fired vainly as his gun hand — the left — was dropping to the floor.
Hadley’s revolver roared as it spat bullets at the falling crooks. Amid that one-man barrage came the spurts of flame from the weapons seized by Harry Vincent and Harvey Wendell.
Five men within the room had fired; yet only two had fallen. Harry and Wendell did not cease their shots toward the writhing foemen, nor did Hadley. When the roaring echoes had ceased, empty weapons were in the hands of the victors. Three crooks lay motionless upon the floor.
Weston Levis arose from behind his chair. The old man’s face was flushed with excitement. He stared from man to man, as though unbelieving that all could have remained unscathed.
Harvey Wendell sprang forward and clapped Hadley upon the shoulder. He fully believed that the overseer had been responsible for this timely work.
“You get the credit, Hadley!” cried Wendell. “Say — the way you plugged those crooks while Vincent and I were after our guns was nothing short of marvelous.”
A LOOK of perplexity appeared upon Hadley’s face. The overseer realized that he had been late with his shots. He thought that the crooks had fired wide, that Harry Vincent and Harvey Wendell had done the work. But in face of Wendell’s congratulations, Hadley seemed too amazed to speak.
Harry Vincent alone understood. Words of censorship were upon his lips. He realized that Hadley had blundered; that the bold attack, though bringing safety to the overseer and Weston Levis, would logically have proven fatal to himself and Harvey Wendell.
By all the laws of chance, Harry and Wendell should have been the first to fall; then Zach and Lefty, for the crooks could not have turned before Hadley fired at them.
Harry knew whence aid had come. The Shadow, from the window, had broken through with the first shots. The others had been so closely followed that no one — not even Weston Levis — had realized what had happened.
Harry caught himself before criticizing Hadley’s action. The overseer had evidently done his best. He was explaining, now, how he had chanced to break loose with the sudden gunfire.
“They didn’t see me,” declared Hadley. “I had my revolver handy, and I saw Mr. Levis give the word. He’s the man you want to thank. I would have stood here like a dumb-bell if it hadn’t been for Mr. Levis.”
Harvey Wendell began an examination of the bodies. He saw that all three crooks were dead. The investigator mopped his brow as he sat upon one of the boxes. Then, mechanically, he broke open his revolver, brought a supply of bullets from his pocket, and began to reload with fumbling fingers.
The action seemed to relieve the strain. Harry and Hadley followed suit with their own weapons. Wendell arose and looked around the room. A hazy recollection came to the investigator’s mind.
“Seemed to me the shots came from everywhere,” Wendell confessed. “Like some one was firing from the windows. Must have been the echoes. Maybe I’m not shaky!”
“Do you think there is danger of another surprise attack?” quavered Weston Levis.
“Not a chance,” said Harry Vincent. “There were three crooks on the island. We’ve bagged them all.” In a leisurely manner, Harry strolled to the window from which The Shadow’s shots had come. Peering into the darkness, Harry smiled weakly as he looked in vain for his invisible chief. But as he stood there in the light, his own form plainly in view, Harry Vincent fancied that he heard the ripple of a weird and sinister laugh.
The laugh of The Shadow! The mockery that came when men of crime had fallen — the triumph which had been the knell for many a fiend! Harry believed that he now heard the ghostly mirth that he had heard before.
Right had triumphed. Crooks had fallen. The Shadow’s hidden hand had effected an amazing rescue.
Harry Vincent turned away from the window, satisfied that The Shadow had departed with the last notes of victory ringing from his unseen lips!
CHAPTER XXI. THE ACCOUNTING
HARVEY WENDELL turned to face his fellows. Nervously, the investigator had gone to the front door; then to a door at the end of the room, a blackened opening that led into the kitchen. Though the three crooks were dead, Wendell could not relieve himself of the fancy that some one else had entered into the swift fray which had brought doom to Zach Telvin and those who had joined the convict’s cause.
At last the investigator seemed satisfied. He stood beside the stacks of regained wealth and spoke of his plans.
“We don’t need the posse,” said Wendell. “But we do need the sheriff. How do you feel, Hadley — shaky?”
“Not much,” returned the overseer.
“You’d better go get the sheriff then,” decided Wendell. “Tell him there are three dead crooks up here. He’ll come along with you quick enough.”
Hadley, still a trifle reluctant about taking orders from Wendell, looked toward Weston Levis.
“You heard the instructions, Hadley; you know what to do,” Levis said.
“All right, sir,” said Hadley.
The overseer went out by the front door. Weston Levis sank in the chair which he had formerly occupied, and rested his chin upon his right hand.
“We can tell the sheriff about everything,” he remarked. “Maybe it would be best to render an accounting of the stolen wealth that we have recovered.”
“A good idea,” responded Wendell. “But we’re going to keep the whole business right here. I’ll wait until the sheriff arrives. Then we can call the State officials. I’ve got to make a report of this as soon as possible.”
“Which is all the more reason,” declared Levis, “that we should know the full extent of the stolen funds. It may prove difficult, Wendell, to learn from which banks different amounts were taken.”
“Let some one else worry about that,” laughed Wendell. “Vincent, I’ll be secretary again. You stack away the goods — back in the boxes — and I’ll make the accounts.” The investigator went into the little office, and returned with a large pad of paper and a pencil. Harry, still a bit shaky from the fray, began to call off stacks of currency.
IT was a grotesque scene: men engaged in listing recovered funds while the corpses of three dead crooks still lay upon the floor. But neither Harry, Wendell, nor Levis could feel a sense of pity for those criminals who had come here to slay. It was like the impersonality of warfare — a view of a miniature battlefield, where soldiers ignore the bodies of the slain.