THE SHADOW OF LIFE
THE three men listened in the corridor outside the secret room. Their faces were expressive of their feelings. Bob displayed a look of shrewd satisfaction. Briggs wore a contemptuous sneer. The hideous features of Clink grinned in delight.
The differing emotions of the three were evident. Bob, the leader, was congratulating himself upon his cleverness. Big Briggs was amused at the ease with which they had disposed of their victim. Both were indifferent to the fate of the imprisoned girl.
But Clink was happy. He was gloating as he stared at the closed wall, enjoying the thought that a helpless person was dying behind that barrier.
The twisted face of the man was a true index of his misshapen spirit. To Clink, misery, suffering, and death were delightful to contemplate.
“Come on,” Bob said.
He moved along the corridor, followed by Briggs. The two men stopped when they reached the end of the passage. Bob looked back. Clink was still staring at the wall.
“Come along, Clink.”
Bob’s command sounded sullen and hollow in the spaces of the corridor. He and Briggs had reached the gloomy end of the passage. They were watching the evil-faced little man as he still stood gloating.
Clink was loath to leave the scene. Reluctantly he turned and joined his two fellows.
Bob flicked out the light and led the way up the steep, dark stairs. When they arrived on the first floor, he turned on a dim hall light.
With Briggs and Clink beside him, Bob produced a key and locked the cellar door. Then the two men followed Bob into the study.
“What next?” questioned Briggs.
“Nothing,” returned Bob. “I’ll hear from the Chief later. In the meantime, we’ll continue as usual.”
“I’m going to dope out a plan to account for the girl being away. That will be easy.”
“Maybe we should have held her,” replied Briggs uneasily. “Maybe the Chief won’t like it—”
“I’m running this!” interrupted Bob harshly. “You know how we work, Briggs. The girl’s just the same as Barker was — or Hodgson, or Harkness. When they’re dead, they don’t talk!”
“I know that,” agreed Briggs. “Still — you might call the Chief now—”
“I don’t call him from here,” declared Bob emphatically. “He calls me. That’s the present system. I won’t hear from him for another hour. By that time—”
“The girl will be dead,” Briggs concluded the sentence.
“Right! And the dead don’t talk!” There was a note of final decision in Bob’s voice. It sounded the doom of Betty Mandell.
Briggs lost his indecision. He realized that Bob was right. There were no pangs of remorse governing the big man. He had suggested keeping the girl alive simply as a matter of policy — not through any feeling of pity. Now he realized that Bob’s plan, even though it had no flexibility, was decisive and positive.
Bob was explaining that fact now.
“We found the hidden room,” came his low words. “It was the wrong place. We have no more use for it. We’ve closed it up. It’s forgotten from now on.
“The girl’s in there — and she’s forgotten, too. Why go back to the place? We’re through — that’s all!”
Briggs nodded. He was satisfied.
“Here, Clink.” Bob tossed a bunch of keys to the man with the hideous face. “Go on duty. Stay out in the big hall, and if you hear anything, find out what it is.”
Clink’s face became contorted. His attempt to smile made his features more gruesome than before.
Bob remembered the fascination that had gripped this monstrous man while they had been in the cellar, outside the wall of the secret room.
“Keep out of the cellar, Clink,” was Bob’s warning. “Remember what I told Briggs just now. That’s all forgotten. So far as we are concerned, the girl is dead now.
“Don’t go anywhere, except the hall, unless you hear something suspicious. Understand?”
Clink nodded. He left the room.
Bob became thoughtful as he sat at the old, flat-topped desk. Briggs took a seat in the corner. They were awaiting the call from their chief.
Neither one was perturbed. So far as they were concerned, Betty Mandell was already dead. The vault of doom was below another portion of the house. These heartless men were indifferent to its existence.
CLINK would have gloated had he been able to see within that dark and forgotten secret room. For there, in the depths of the living tomb, Betty Mandell was undergoing all the agony that can come to a mind ravaged by fantastic terrors.
The air had become stifling. Betty was accustomed to the gag by now, yet she was breathing with difficulty. The air supply in the tiny room was rapidly becoming exhausted.
Betty knew that she had no hope. She had listened intently after the room had been sealed, trying to hear some sound from without. She had been unsuccessful. Once the muffled hammering had ended, there had been no further noise.
She did not know whether the men still remained in the corridor. She felt sure that they had gone, leaving her to the fate they had intended.
Betty had struggled with the cords that bound her. Now she fought no longer. Betty knew that if she did release herself from the bonds, nothing would be gained.
Her loudest cries would be completely stifled by the massive walls of this room. Escape was impossible!
Her head was swimming. Vague, terrifying thoughts swept through her brain. She fancied that she heard the voice of Bob Galvin — the voice of the real Bob, coming through the receiver of a telephone. Then it was drowned by the harsh tones of the man who had pretended to be Bob Galvin.
Betty had heard the impostor’s true name uttered tonight, but she had forgotten it.
Then came weird recollections of the face of Clink. It was the sight of that hideous countenance that had made her utter the cry which had betrayed her.
Her reflections were gruesome and incredible. They added to the girl’s dismay. Her mind was reverting to the past, covering days and months in a span of a few seconds.
Suddenly her thoughts centered on the night when she had entered the study and had surprised the man in black. She fancied that she could see his eyes glowing through the darkness.
Until now, Betty had always thought of that sable figure as a terrible being; now she found a strange comfort in the recollection. Somehow, she felt that his presence was not an evil one.
She wondered who he was, and why he had come to this house. She remembered him as a shadowy form — almost a part of the night itself — a specter that came and went in darkness.
Of all living beings, only he, if any one, could penetrate to this forgotten place. Perhaps that was why the memory of him brought comfort to her aching mind.
Betty breathed slowly and laboriously. She knew that the end was near. Not many minutes lay between her and death. She would die here, in silence. Any sound would be welcome, now.
Even as she thought, Betty fancied that she heard a slight noise. It was like the muffled pounding, but much fainter. She listened.
She was sure of it, now!
Some one was working at the pillars that held the barrier! It was imagination no longer! Who could it be?
THE sound continued, while Betty gasped the stifling air. She seemed to be breathing blackness itself. She was too exhausted to again struggle with her bonds!
The gag had fallen from her mouth, but the girl was far too weak to cry out.
Help was coming, but it would be too late!
The noise ceased at the barrier. Silence followed.
Betty slumped to the floor. She knew that death was close.
Her ears detected another sound — a sharp click. Then came a gust of pure, fresh air.
The girl could not realize what had happened. She could only breathe in gladness.
There was another click, and a beam of light swept through the room. Betty looked up into the glare of a flashlight.
For the first time she comprehended that the barrier had been opened. Then fear robbed her of hope.
Perhaps her captors had returned to save her from death — only to plan new tortures and some more terrible end.
The light went out. Betty felt herself lifted and carried from the room. She was placed upon the cold floor of the corridor. She lay there, still bound.
She heard soft footsteps going up the passage. The light in the ceiling came on, and Betty could see the yawning abyss of the room from which she had been carried.
Betty turned her gaze toward the end of the corridor. There she saw the strange form of a man in black — that same fantastic being whom she had observed in the study, nights before! His shadow formed a long, grotesque silhouette along the corridor.
The man was approaching. Betty felt no fear. It was as though her hopes had been answered.
The man leaned over her and Betty gazed intently upward, trying to glimpse the face beneath the broad-brimmed hat. But his head was between her and the light. She could see only the gleam of two eyes.
Betty gasped audibly. A low, warning hiss came from the man in black.
The cords that bound her were cut. The man in black turned away, and closed the barrier that hid the secret room.
Now the girl watched with still greater amazement. She had seen the efforts required to move those pillars that concealed the opening. Three strong men had struggled with them.
The man in black required no assistance. With smooth, powerful effort, he moved the pillars back into place. Betty could see a black-gloved hand as it pounded against one pillar.
This strange, shadowlike man was doing with his bare hands the work that the others had accomplished with the muffled sledge hammer.
His work completed, the man in black went along the corridor and turned out the light. He came back through the darkness so silently that Betty did not know of his approach until he was beside her. She felt the folds of a cloak as they fell over her.
“Who are you?” she whispered, in the darkness.
A soft laugh came in response. A sibilant voice spoke.
“You can call me The Shadow!”
THE girl had never heard the name before, but it seemed appropriate. The man was a shadow — invisible in the darkness; a black form in light.
Betty felt the strong arms of The Shadow lifting her to her feet. She drew the folds of the black cloak about her. It seemed like a garment of invisibility.
She tried to walk, but stumbled. She was raised from the floor, and The Shadow carried her along the passage as easily as one might carry a small child.
They were on the steep stairs now. The Shadow did not falter. The girl’s weight was no burden to him.
To Betty, it seemed as though she were being carried through the air by an unknown force. Silent and soundless, The Shadow was taking her to safety.
Near the top of the stairs The Shadow stopped, and again Betty heard his warning whisper.
They were in the midst of solemn, black silence. The door was but a few feet ahead. Betty could hear nothing, but The Shadow’s keen ears had detected a trifling sound.
There was a shelflike beam at the right of the stairs. Betty felt herself placed gently upon it.
“Stay here,” came the sibilant whisper. “Do not move!”
Betty waited alone. Several seconds went by. The door opened at the head of the stairs.
At first, Betty thought that The Shadow had opened it. Then she saw a face in the dim light above. She bit her lips to repress a cry of horror as she recognized the hideous countenance of Clink.
Betty shuddered and drew the folds of the cloak about her.
Where was The Shadow? Had he left her to her doom?
There was no sound nor sign of him. He had disappeared!
Betty waited breathlessly. She knew that Clink must have suspected something. It was improbable that he had heard the noise from below. Probably he had found the cellar door unlocked.
The girl was worried. She felt that there was only one hope — that Clink would go away without making an inspection.
She could see the hands of the monstrous man. In one he held an automatic. In the other, a flashlight. The gun was pointed down the stairs.
Betty was terrified. When that light clicked, she would be seen. So would The Shadow, unless he had slipped to the cellar below.
A shot from Clink’s gun would mean death to her or to the man who had saved her.
It would also sound the alarm to the other men.
Betty realized the helplessness of The Shadow. He might still be here in the darkness; but he could not fire at Clink. That, too, would serve as an alarm.
THE light came on. Straight down the cellar stairs shone its glare. It moved back and forth, and suddenly its rays were focused upon Betty! Her white face was revealed amidst the black mass of the cloak.
At that instant — just when Betty knew she was discovered — she saw something else.
The long, thin form of a man seemed to emerge from the steps.
A face came within the glare of the electric torch.
It was the face of The Shadow — a solemn, monkish profile that shone a ghastly green as the light revealed it!
Two black hands shot forward with amazing swiftness. They caught Clink’s ankles in a viselike grip.
Betty could see a startled, twisted expression on the hideous face of the man with the flashlight. His body went upward as though impelled by a powerful spring beneath. The gun and the light shot ahead of him as he was precipitated forward.
Headlong, like a high-diver, Clink shot down the cellar stairs with terrific impetus!
Betty could hear the man’s long, wailing cry, as he dived helplessly into space.
The Shadow was beside her, now. She was lifted in his arms. They were in the hallway. The cellar door was still open; but no sound came from it.
Betty could hear voices, and the scramble of feet along the hall. The Shadow stepped into a side room, behind a curtain, carrying her with him. There she was lowered to the floor as two men rushed by — Bob and Briggs.
They had heard Clink’s wailing shout!
A few minutes passed and Betty no longer sensed the presence of The Shadow. She heard footsteps from the cellar stairs. Bob and Briggs stopped in the hallway.
“The fool!” came Bob’s harsh exclamation. Even the sound of that voice made the girl shudder. “I told him to stay out of the cellar. Tripped on the top step — all the way down — head-first—”
“What’ll we do about it?” Briggs questioned grimly. “We can’t leave him there, with his head smashed against that concrete wall.”
“Wait a while,” returned Bob. “We can get rid of his body later on—”
“In the room where the girl—”
“No!” Bob spluttered an oath. “That place is forgotten, Briggs. Forgotten — you understand? Are you a fool, too?”
Their voices dwindled as they walked along the hall back to the study. As the footsteps died away, The Shadow was again beside Betty.
The girl’s spirit weakened at last. Her rescue — the encounter on the stairs — the fact that Clink was dead — all these were more than she could stand, now that they were past. She fainted as The Shadow lifted her in his arms.
Betty regained consciousness a few minutes later, when a cool, fresh wind swept over her. They were outside the house. The Shadow was carrying her through a darkened alleyway that led to a side street. A closed car was waiting.
Betty, still bundled in the black cloak, was placed in the rear seat of the limousine. The door of the car closed. She could see the back of the chauffeur at the wheel.
The car moved along the street, and for one instant, as they passed a bright light, Betty saw the silhouette of The Shadow beside her. Then faintness again swept over her and her dazed mind became a blank.