The Man Who Died Twice by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1940-09-18T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER IX. A TRICK WITH A SPONGE

WHEN Richard Benton dropped to the turf behind the stone wall, he landed awkwardly. An ankle gave way, pitching him sprawling. He was up in an instant, however. His ankle had not been wrenched badly.

He knew exactly what to do. He had surveyed every inch of these dark grounds on the evening before.

The grounds extended, like a flat plateau, to the edge of a high cliff. Like most millionaires, Benedict Stark had built his estate on a spot that commanded a magnificent view. The cliff at the rear was more than a hundred feet above the sunken ribbon of Riverside Drive. Beyond the Drive was shrubbery, dwarfed and toylike from above. Farther out was the black expanse of the Hudson River.

But Benton was not concerned with the view. He was thinking of the staircase.

The staircase was built of stone. It led downward from the brow of the cliff to the Drive far below. It offered an easy avenue to freedom.

Richard Benton raced through the darkness, dodging clumps of bushes. He veered away from the mansion, toward the stone balustrade at the top of those rear steps.

In his excitement, he failed to veer far enough to the left. He reached the cliff nearly fifty feet away from the stone stairs. He knew it when he saw a low wall and a screen of bushes. The bushes lined the edge of nothingness. Below them was a sheer drop of more than a hundred feet.

Benton whirled to retrieve his error. But before he had taken a single stride, he heard an ominous command:

"Stop!"

A figure had risen spectre-like from the earth. It was robed in black. A gun pointed at the fugitive. Over the barrel of the gun was the gleam of calm, deep-set eyes. Benton recognized his face with a gasp of terror.

"The Shadow!"

His arms lifted in surrender. The Shadow darted forward to make an easy capture. It was a mistake. Benton had no intention of surrendering. He was cold with the lust to kill and get away.

As The Shadow sprang forward, Benton ducked suddenly. He flung himself like a diving football tackler at the knees of The Shadow. The two men went down in a writhing heap on the turf.

A terrific battle started. Benton seized The Shadow's gun in a desperate grip. His other hand clamped on The Shadow's throat. The two foes rolled over and over, thrashing and kicking. Not a sound was audible except the gasp of their breathing.

Benton was a powerful man, but he was no match for the trained muscles of The Shadow. The hand that clutched at The Shadow's throat was torn away before it could clamp tight with a strangling hold. Benton's throat was the one that began to feel cruel pressure.

His other hand left the gun of The Shadow. Dazedly, the fugitive fought to tear loose the fingers at his throat.

The Shadow could have shot Benton with the greatest of ease. But he preferred to take the man alive. He anchored him flat to the ground with a scissors hold of flying legs.

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