Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 036 by Maxwel l Grant

Author:Maxwel,l Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

CHAPTER XV. TABLES TURN

LIKE a man in a trance, Harvey sensed the fantastic situation which now existed in this forgotten spot—the boiler room of a Mississippi derelict.

Face to face with Harvey Wendell, a man who threatened him with a revolver muzzle, Harry could see salvation just beyond.

The Shadow was in a position from which he could strike. Should his mighty hand falter, it would mean death for his agent, Harry Vincent. For Harvey Wendell, if attacked from in back, would surely fire.

As Harry stared, he saw the right hand of The Shadow raise. With a sweeping, silent gesture, it came downward beside Wendell's shoulder, and pointed to the gun which the man held. The Shadow's index finger spoke as plainly as though words had been uttered. It commanded Harry to make a desperate move.

Harry must leap for the revolver which was in Wendell's hand! For an instant, Harry wondered; then, his senses coming back, he prepared to obey The Shadow's surprising order. Looking squarely into Wendell's eyes, Harry uttered a protest.

“Say”—his voice was pleading—“you aren't going to shove me into one of those cabins—”

“Either that,” interrupted Wendell, “or I'm going to load you with lead. Take your choice.”

The hand of The Shadow was creeping close beside Harvey Wendell's arm. It was inches only from the revolver which the sallow-faced man held.

“All right,” grumbled Harry. “You say take my choice. I'll take it!”

With that final statement, Harry Vincent sprang forward. His move was a swift one, but a single shot could frustrate a one-in-a-hundred chance. Had he acted alone, Harry Vincent would have been doomed. But The Shadow was there in his agent's behalf.

Harry's spring—Wendell's firing of the gun; between those actions, The Shadow did his part. His fingers, like living things of blackness, gripped the revolver which Wendell held. Like a blotting shaft of ink, the hand of The Shadow covered the glimmering weapon and twisted it with a viselike clutch.

The gun snapped from Wendell's gripping hand. It shot across the floor past Harry Vincent. Wendell's fist, close to his body, came open and was empty. His faltering forefinger trembled in space.

Before the man had a chance to understand it, Harry Vincent was upon him. Wendell threw up his arms to ward off Harry's grasp. The two men clinched, and Wendell staggered backward under the force of Harry's attack.

THE SHADOW was no longer there. Swift as the onslaught had been, The Shadow had stepped away more rapidly. Somewhere in the darkness beyond the boiler, his eyes were watching the fray. He had evened the turn for his agent. He was leaving the rest to Harry Vincent.

The young man knew it. Once tonight, he had failed. This time, he was determined to show his ability in combat. Harry was unarmed; so was Harvey Wendell. It was a man-to-man fight, with the odds even.

As the two twisted back and forth, just within the glare of the swinging electric lantern, Harry wrested free. As Wendell leaped forward to a new clinch, Harry struck. Wendell's ferocious snarl ended in a click as his teeth came together.

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