The Shadow - 213 - Forgotten Gold by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1940-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

With his mobbies echoing the shout, Case saw the “hat and coat” that Herkimer was getting.

“Hat and cloak” described the garments better.

The hat was a slouch one; like the cloak, it was black. Already clamped on Herkimer’s head, the slouch hat hid his features. As for the cloak that he was whisking over his shoulders, it completed the transformation. The elderly professor had become a being in black.

The Shadow!

IN the same cross swing of his hands that brought the cloak tight on his shoulders, The Shadow whipped a brace of automatics from hidden bolsters and came lunging squarely upon the four men outside the closet door.

Only Case had been quick enough to yank his gun; the rest were trying to get their weapons as they dived for shelter. Desk, chairs and bookcases were the only things that promised escape from The Shadow’s wrath.

Before Case could aim, The Shadow knocked Case’s gun hand upward. Case tried a sideward swipe that breezed The Shadow’s head, carrying away the slouch hat, a white wig with it. Diving for the desk, Case knocked a stack of books to the floor. Beneath them was a make-up kit, wide open.

The wig, the make-up box accounted for the singular surprise that the crooks had received.

They had seen Professor Herkimer from outdoors. But while they were watching the window, the professor had received a visitor ahead of them: The Shadow. Straight from Case’s apartment, the cloaked avenger had entered the house while crooks dallied outdoors.

The Shadow had evidently warned the real professor and hatched this scheme. He had made up as Herkimer, and had changed places with him during one of the professor’s little strolls around the room.

Inasmuch as Case had never seen Herkimer, the make-up job had been merely an impersonation on The Shadow’s part.

Such facts didn’t make it any easier for Case and his three gunzels. The Shadow’s guns were jabbing, sending mobsters into wilder dives as he pivoted about the room. A scream told that he had clipped one of the four. Vaulting a low table, The Shadow sagged another with a glancing gun blow and took the fellow’s own shelter.

It was then that Case made a desperate effort. Shoving the desk ahead of him, he tried to trap The Shadow in the corner. The wounded thug came bounding in with frenzy. The crook who had taken the glancing gun stroke still had his senses, and tried to grapple. The last man of Case’s band chucked a chair at The Shadow and came following right after it.

They might as well have attacked a whirlwind. In the dim light of the room, The Shadow had the blackness and speed of a miniature tornado as he hurdled the incoming desk, hooked Case with a rapid clutch and spun the astounded leader into the midst of his stupefied followers.

Slugging for The Shadow, they found Case instead, and only the wildest of dives saved Case from the guns of his own men. Mere luck started Case toward the door; shooting crazily at everything black, he was yelling for his men to come along.

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