Shadow 182 - The Golden Master 09-15-39, The by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street and Smith
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

ODDLY, the hammer stroke seemed to have banished tumult below. Perhaps the other Mongols, hearing the brassy sound, had felt their work accomplished and were choosing flight, instead of further battle with The Shadow.

They had certainly heard the cry of Shan Juchi, and would carry word to Shiwan Khan that he had fulfilled his mission with the gong. In dying, Shan Juchi failed to realize that the stroke of the gong had been unheard by the one person for whom it was intended: Lana Luan.

He lay silent, stiff, Shan Juchi; and it suddenly occurred to Flash Gidley that other Mongols might have fared the same way.

From below, Flash caught new sounds: the faint, muffled shots of a revolver; vague howls, with the clatter of running feet; finally, the weird shiver of an echoing laugh, too much like the mockery of The Shadow!

Two more thugs had arrived. Flash pointed all four toward the lower stairway. Springing to the corner of the room, he lifted Beatrice, shoved her limp form into Herk’s arms. The big lieutenant was looking at Thorner, who had come to his feet near the passage to the upper stairway.

“Forget that guy!” snapped Flash. “I told you we didn’t want the dragon. We’ve got the dame -“

A roar came from the lower stairs. Guns blasted with the force of a cannonade. The Shadow’s automatics were recognizable when they began the fire; they kept up their staccato punches amid the wild, disjointed bark of revolvers.

Flash’s trouble-shooters had found trouble that had shot them up instead. Trouble in the person of The Shadow. Thuds and howls told that crippled mobbies were tumbling down the stairs, while a strident laugh, pealing from a corner of the room, announced the safe return of The Shadow.

“Come on!” Flash tugged at Herk. “Get going - and hang onto the dame!”

Flash headed out to the front. He was away from the sweep of the flashlight that The Shadow flicked from the lower stairs. The Shadow spied two men starting a mad race for safety. Each was carrying a valued prize.

One was Thorner. Stirred with wild desire for flight, he was taking to the upper stairway, clinging to the Ch’ien Lung dragon. The other was Herk; he was following Flash. Across Herk’s shoulder, The Shadow caught a glimpse of a girl’s face, far paler than the usual countenance that represented Lana Luan.

Choice of pursuit lay with The Shadow. Overtaking Thorner would be a certainty, the capture of the dragon included. From such a chase, The Shadow would obtain the very reward that he had come to claim.

Following Herk meant new battle against risky odds, with only a slight chance of rescuing an unknown girl who, from The Shadow’s last view of her face, might be already dead.

The flashlight blackened. Through the solid gloom of that barren room where Shan Juchi lay dead beneath the brazen gong, there came the tone of a sibilant, whispered laugh. A few moments later the sound, like its author, was gone.

His trail chosen, The Shadow was on his way.

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