The Shadow 229 Gems of Jeopardy by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1941-08-31T22:00:00+00:00

Harry Vincent’s face was the color of wet clay when his torturers stepped back.

“Want to talk?” Keech snarled.

Harry nodded. He was unable to move his lips. Keech poured a drink of whiskey down his pain-racked throat.

But before Vincent could utter a sound there was a grim interruption.

The stained-glass window on the left side of the room flew suddenly upward. A figure was disclosed on the narrow stone sill outside. It was a figure that clung perilously to its narrow perch, kept in balance by a dangling rope.

Harry Vincent’s twisting face was bleak with hope. He thought it was The Shadow.

It wasn’t.

It was a man whose face was concealed by a mask. The muzzle of a gun pointed toward the trussed figure of Harry Vincent.

Mr. X himself was taking a hand in a grim game of treachery and murder.

He

was as completely deceived about Vincent as Frankie Keech and his thugs had been. He thought Harry was his own thug Lefty.

He wanted to shut Lefty’s mouth forever!

Keech and his three thugs had whirled. Guns leaped from hidden bolsters.

But neither side fired.

A loud blast of swing music was the cause of that sudden paralysis between opposing criminal forces. Another door had swung open. It was the door that gave access to the tiny balcony above the stage of the night club.

A figure leaped into view as the balcony door slammed shut, cutting off all sound of the music from the stage.

The Shadow!

TWIN .45s gleamed in black-gloved hands. Keech’s mobsmen whirled as they saw themselves menaced from front and rear. Two of them tried to swing their artillery on the masked criminal perched outside the opened window. The third thug fired toward the black-cloaked figure of The Shadow.

Flame leaped from The Shadow’s .45s.

The thug who had faced The Shadow pitched to the floor. Bullets from The Shadow’s other gun whizzed toward the masked killer on the window sill.

Mr. X had fired, too. His gun was aimed directly at the bound body of Vincent. His shot and the roar of The Shadow’s second gun made almost a single explosion. But there was a split second’s difference in the speed with which those slugs were released.

The Shadow’s bullet struck the gun of the masked man as it flamed.

Deflected, the slug intended for Harry missed its target.

The Shadow leaped forward, firing as he advanced.

Bullets pierced his hat and tugged at his cloak. But he was like a black wraith as he darted about the room. He seemed to attack from all quarters at once.

Frankie Keech was nowhere to be seen. A smart rat, Keech was taking no chances on death. One instant, he was crouched near the open safe from which he had taken the cash to pay off Vincent. The next instant, he had vanished.

The masked killer on the window sill was gone, too. He had flung himself backward into empty air. The rope to which he was holding swung him away like a plummet. He slid rapidly downward to the pavement of a narrow alley below.

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