The Shadow - 47 - The Black Falcon by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781932806274
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1934-02-15T23:02:46+00:00

A click sounded as Rowland Ransdale turned on the light in the living room. The Shadow, peering from his alcove, saw the mine owner, in a smoking jacket, heading toward the corridor with a revolver in his grasp. Hazzlett, plainly attired, was hurrying to join his master.

A shrill whistle burst through the corridor. The police had entered. Ransdale and Hazzlett had met them.

Where was The Black Falcon? Swiftly, The Shadow cut into the living room. He could hear the sound of feet and excited voices in the hallway. With a swift motion, the black-garbed visitor swept into the darkness of an adjoining room.

Loud talk sounded in the living room as The Shadow reached the little window that opened near the fire tower. He could hear the voice of Commissioner Weston. The official had arrived with Joe Cardona. He was ordering a prompt search of the place.

The Shadow could not remain. The window by the fire tower was open. Swiftly, the black-clad protector swung over the sill. Remaining there, he adjusted the rubber suction cups that had served him so well. Then, with faultless action, he began his descent along this blackened section of the wall.

The police cordon had closed in. Men were pounding up the steps of the fire tower as The Shadow descended alongside. The Shadow, at the second floor, swung inward to the rail. He removed the suction cups and descended the steps to the ground. But as his tall form appeared within a patch of light that glistened on the paving, a shrill whistle sounded.

Swiftly, The Shadow merged with the darkness of an opposite wall. He found an opening which his keen eyes had spotted from above. He chose this way between two walls to find a quick exit from the scene.

Again that whistle. As The Shadow neared the end of the narrow area, a policeman came pounding straight against him.

The officer did not see the crouching shape that dropped instantly to the paving. The first inkling that he gained of a living presence was when powerful arms blocked his path and a heaving form of hidden muscle lifted him towering in the air. Dizzily, the policeman plunged headlong. He seemed to dive at an angle from a pair of shoulders. For a moment, the gripping clutch restrained him. As he fell, the officer had time to thrust out his arms and break the force of the drop. His revolver clattered on the cement.

By the time the policeman had gripped his gun and risen dazedly to his feet, no living presence remained.

The Shadow, fleeting through the last short space of darkness, had gained the street beyond. He had passed the encircling cordon.

THE Garman Apartments were in full possession of Weston’s forces. Policemen and detectives were everywhere. The commissioner and Detective Joe Cardona were with Rowland Ransdale and his servant, Hazzlett.

Ransdale, a keen-faced man of medium height, was giving the details of the raid. Hazzlett, taller and more powerful than his employer, was standing by with a grim expression on his firm, hard-visaged face.

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