Shadow 259 - The Hydra 12-01-42, 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

THREE actors edged forward to assist. King Louis, Danton and Robespierre forgot their historical animosities, while their deft hands thumbed through money the way they had that afternoon. Three of a kind, these thieves. In order from left to right, they were the fake bank tellers who had swindled the Paragon Trust. And of them, the middle man was Robespierre, hunched exactly as he had been in the central teller’s cage!

A repressed laugh trickled from The Shadow’s hidden lips as he moved forward from darkness. He was timing his personal appearance until the payoff. He wanted all hands to be present, which they were. Even the stage hands!

They were three, those stage hands, the former attendants at the scientific museum. Along with a dozen actors, they were getting their cut of two thousand dollars each, the rest to be retained by Medor, the Hydra Head, for benefit of himself and the other leaders of the sinister organization.

Forward moved The Shadow. His laugh grew as he came. Plotters heard it when he was almost among them. Like Medor, the rest wheeled to find themselves under the muzzles of two moving automatics that threatened all with the doom that they thought they had already delivered to The Shadow!

By then, The Shadow’s laugh was striking a strong pitch. Strident, it hurled its sinister mirth for the audience to hear. Beyond the curtain were people who should be told what the real crimes of the actors were. Not fanciful exaggerations of French Revolutionary lore, but modern, streamlined villainy done by criminals who used a theater as their hideout and fancy costumes as their disguises!

Fiercer, more chill-inspiring than the crash of the guillotine was that accusation of The Shadow, a mocking laugh for the world to hear. Persons out front didn’t have to see what was happening backstage to know that crime was uncovered. With one mighty taunt, The Shadow was shattering the Hydra’s latest game, throwing Head Seven and his followers into complete panic.

They did just what a disorganized group would do: some lunged forward independently, others dodged for shelter, while a few actually fled. Some let their money flutter in their excitement; the rest clung to their share of the stolen funds, tightly and grimly. All, however, were yanking weapons of their own. Nobody who served the Hydra ever went unarmed.

The Shadow’s guns blasted first. Tongues of fire stabbed the nearest foemen before they could jab their own revolvers in return. Tongues of flame with bullets of metal that cut a swath through the ranks of murderers. Asking for such treatment, they were allowing The Shadow no choice but to give it.

The principal members of the cast were the ones who took the brunt. Across the sprawling forms of King Louis, Danton, and Robespierre sprang The Shadow, wheeling to a better vantage point where he could deal with the rest. In particular, he wanted Medor, but it wasn’t judgment to forget the others.

Guns were popping from all about the stage; even those who had started to flee were rallying for the fray.

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