DEATH AND THE SHADOW
CLIFF MARSLAND slipped over the window sill. He had made it from the fire escape. The window sash had been loose. Perhaps Madge had seen to that when Durgan had let her look from the window that afternoon.
Cliff was going on the assumption that he was in the right house. He had found the electric sign; he had seen the revolving ball atop an apartment house. Then he had discovered an old darkened building, evidently a vacant apartment, with a battered fire escape descending. He had made his way to the fourth floor.
He felt the window shade as he stood in a darkened hall. Yes, it was torn! This must be the house!
Cliff was keyed to action. Now, however, he regretted that in his zeal he had failed to call The Shadow. He must work alone tonight — that was all — work to rescue those who were in Killer Durgan’s toils!
There were two doors in the hall. They were set side by side in the wall. Each door had a heavy bolt. These could well be cell-like rooms, such as Madge had mentioned.
Cliff paused at the nearest door. He drew back the bolt, which was scarcely visible in the darkness. Clutching his automatic, he opened the door cautiously. He was looking into a lighted room, furnished with a cot and a few chairs.
On the cot sat a girl, her head resting upon her hand. She was alone. Cliff entered and closed the door noiselessly. He approached. The girl looked up and suppressed a startled cry.
“Arline!” whispered Cliff.
A sudden recognition dawned upon the girl. Before she could respond, Cliff had gripped her shoulders and had raised her to her feet. He kissed her, with all the ardor of forgotten years; then, suddenly, he stepped away and bowed his head.
“Forgive me, Arline,” he said. “Forgive me. I forgot—”
“Forgot what, Cliff?” The girl was clinging to him, now. She was looking up with tear-dimmed, pleading eyes.
“Forgot that I’m a jailbird,” said Cliff bitterly. “Just out of Sing Sing — a few weeks ago—”
“I didn’t know that, Cliff,” said Arline. “I’ve been waiting for you, Cliff, hoping that you’d come back to me.”
“But, Arline—”
“I know everything, Cliff. Brother told me before he died. It was for him that you went to prison — for me, Cliff! He had gone wrong, Cliff — after father sent him away in a fit of anger.
“When he came to your room, fleeing from the police, you took the blame for the robbery he had committed. You fought them with the gun you had taken from him, while he escaped.
“He told me months later, after he came home. He died, you know, after a terrible illness. Father was broken, Cliff. It would have killed him — that’s why I couldn’t speak.
“Brother had killed a man, too, before the robbery. That was never laid to you. If it had been, I would have spoken. Oh, Cliff” — the girl’s voice choked — “can’t you see that I’ve been waiting — that I love you — love you with a greater, fuller love—”
THOUGHTS of danger were forgotten. Cliff was kissing Arline’s tear-stained cheeks. All the grief of years had passed in a moment. Arline knew — she understood — and Cliff had not told her. He had remained true to his vow, that he would protect the name of the brother of the girl he loved!
Reality returned. Cliff suddenly realized that they must leave this place quickly; that he must be prepared for Killer Durgan. He gave Arline one last, long embrace.
There was a door at the side of the room. Neither Cliff nor Arline saw it when it opened. There, in the doorway, stood Madge Benton.
A look of astonishment came over the blonde’s face; then, as she realized the truth, her features hardened in bitter hatred.
Madge was a girl of the underworld. She followed a code in which love vied with hate. One instant could change her feelings to the uttermost extreme. She closed the door softly.
Cliff placed Arline in a chair. He clutched his automatic and looked about him. He remembered Madge. He owed this meeting to that girl.
Cliff felt a fond friendliness for Madge. He had never loved her; but he pitied her plight. She was far too good a moll for a wretch like Killer Durgan. Cliff whispered to Arline.
“There’s a girl here,” he said. “Where is she?”
“In the next room,” replied Arline. “It adjoins this one. That’s where — where the brute who brought me here stays. He went out — with another man. They will be back soon.
“The girl — her name is Madge — was locked in here with me. She found the door to the next room open; but it was bolted from the outside like this one. She’s there now. We must get her—”
Arline’s head dropped forward. She was about to fall from the chair. Dropping his automatic on the cot, Cliff grasped her before she slipped to the floor. As he steadied her, Arline recovered her senses and smiled.
“I’m all right, Cliff,” she said. “I’m all right, Cliff—”
Her happy look turned to one of sudden terror. She was staring over Cliff’s shoulder. The man turned quickly.
There, in the center of the room, stood Ernie Shires, revolver in hand. The gangster had entered through the door from the hall. He had closed it behind him.
It was too late for Cliff to elude him. But desperation ruled Cliff’s mind. He reached for his automatic, dropping to the floor to avoid Ernie’s fire.
Shires did the unexpected. With one quick step forward, he swung a short blow. The steel of his revolver struck Cliff behind the ear, as Cliff’s hand was reaching to the cot. Cliff sprawled unconscious.
Arline leaped toward him, with a little cry of anguish. Shires caught the girl with one arm and laughed. Holding Arline helpless, he pocketed his own revolver and did the same with Cliff’s. He flung the girl upon the cot, where she lay sobbing.
He leaned over Cliff’s body. He half lifted the prostrate form, and pushed it into the corner, behind the chair. He felt through Cliff’s pockets and found no weapons.
“You’re out for a while,” sneered Ernie. “Maybe for a long while. We’ll let you lay till Durgan gets here. See what he has to say.”
He turned to the cot. Arline was crouching against the wall. Ernie laughed as he approached.
“So that’s the guy you fell for, eh?” he said. “I heard you call his name. Cliff Marsland, eh? Well, I’ve got things to settle with him — and the best way to begin is with his moll! Come here!”
HE seized Arline and pulled her toward him. The girl struggled desperately. Ernie Shires handled her with brutal roughness. He tried to kiss her, despite her protests. She dealt him a hard slap across the mouth, and Shires laughed cruelly.
He was clutching the girl with his arms, trying to crush her. Arline managed to break away. She staggered to the wall and stood there, gasping, her eyes wide with terror. Her hand clutched her arm, where the sleeve had been torn away, and the scratches of Ernie’s fingernails had left red streaks.
Ernie was leering as he approached, ready to pounce upon the girl the moment that she tried to escape.
“So you’re the rat!” An interrupting voice came from the door to the next room.
Killer Durgan, eyes red with anger, puffed lips snarling, was covering Ernie with his automatic. The gangster looked at Durgan in utter bewilderment — too surprised to speak.
“Stole my moll, eh?” growled Durgan. “Bumped off Mike Wharton, before he could spill your name. I thought you were phony — the first night you came up to my place. Looking at my moll like you wanted her for yours.
“She just spilled the dope. Told me I’d find you here — the guy that she was goofy over — grabbing off another moll just because she looked like a high-class dame.
“You rat! Well, she’s in there — Madge is — waiting to hear you go out!”
“Durgan!” protested Shires. “Listen, Durgan — you don’t know—”
Before he could say another word, Killer Durgan fired. Three shots entered Ernie’s body.
Arline, startled and bewildered, had her first glimpse of sudden death when she saw the gangster crumple on the floor. Durgan stood above the body, gloating.
He had not seen the form of Cliff Marsland, lying behind the chair in the obscure corner of the room.
Ernie Shires had once framed Cliff Marsland to be killed instead of himself, as the slayer of Tim Waldron. Now, in turn, Ernie Shires had been framed by circumstance. He had died in place of the man whom Killer Durgan wanted!
“You’ve killed him!” Madge came into the room, her eyes wild with remorse. “Oh, Durgan — you’ve killed him! Killed my man! Killed—”
Her eyes saw the upturned face of Ernie Shires. They lighted suddenly.
Madge could not explain what had happened — she only knew that the wrong man was dead — and she was glad! Her furious hate had turned to love once more the moment that she had heard the fatal shots. Killer Durgan was watching her with hawklike eyes.
“I got him!” he said. “Got the rat! Your man, eh? Well, he’s nobody’s man, now! He’s just Ernie Shires — a dead rat—”
SOMETHING in Madge’s expression puzzled Durgan. The wildness was gone. She seemed relieved. Durgan could not understand it.
The girl was neither weeping nor laughing. Her face was tense. She was trying to regain her calmness.
It was in this moment of puzzlement that Killer Durgan chanced to see the form of Cliff Marsland. He thrust Madge to one side as he strode across the room. He pulled the chair away. He looked close at the face of the unconscious man. Then Durgan turned to see Madge trembling.
“I got it now!” he said harshly. “I killed the wrong guy, eh? This is the bird that made the trouble! Who is he?”
“I won’t tell you,” replied Madge fiercely. “He’s nobody, Durgan — leave him alone!”
“Tell me who he is!” Durgan’s tone was cunning. “Then I’ll let him go!”
“You promise?”
Durgan nodded.
“He’s Cliff Marsland,” said Madge.
“Cliff Marsland!” Durgan’s face expressed intense hatred. “I said I’d let him go, eh? Well, I will let him go — on your account. But I’ve got something of my own to settle with him. Don’t forget that!”
As Durgan stared, Cliff opened his eyes weakly. He tried to move, but the effort failed.
“Coming to, eh?” added Durgan. “Well, tough guy, you’re just in time to see what’s coming to you!”
Gloating, Killer lowered his automatic. His finger was on the trigger. Before he could press it, there was a scream. Madge leaped forward, throwing her body before the muzzle of the automatic, seeking to stop the shots.
It was too late! Killer Durgan’s finger moved before Madge could strike the automatic from his hand. A shot rang out; the bullet found a mark, but it never reached Cliff Marsland!
Killer Durgan stood aghast as Madge fell to the floor, mortally wounded! She had sought to save the man she loved. She had succeeded — at the cost of her own life!
Durgan stood as though petrified. He saw the blond girl give her last gasp of life. His moll was dead!
There was no love in Killer Durgan’s nature. It was desire for possession that had ruled his actions toward Madge. He was stunned by what had happened; but only momentarily. Evil venom followed.
Cliff Marsland must die!
Arline Griscom realized Killer Durgan’s intention. She had been horrified at the sight of death; now, her love for Cliff spurred her to desperation.
She flung herself upon the brutal murderer and battled tooth and nail, while Cliff tried vainly to rise.
With a mighty effort, Durgan flung the struggling girl against the wall. Before she could regain her feet, she saw his arm turn toward the corner where Cliff lay.
Two shots roared. Arline screamed. Then she stared, bewildered.
Killer Durgan was collapsing! His body sagged, like a figure in a slow-motion picture. He toppled forward, his gun falling to the floor. He lay face downward, an inert mass.
THEN Arline realized whence the shots had come. The outer door of the room had opened. There stood a man in black, a strange weird figure, garbed in a flowing cloak.
The folds of the garments revealed a crimson lining — the only spot of color in the man’s attire. For on his head, he wore a black, broad-brimmed hat that covered his features. He held an automatic in his black-gloved hand.
It was he who had fired. His bullets had ended the murderous career of Killer Durgan, cheating the notorious slayer of a final victim!
Cliff was rising now. Arline could see his tense gaze directed toward the man in black. Cliff’s lips were moving.
“The Shadow!” he was saying. “The Shadow!”
A low, soft laugh came from the man in black. It was the strangest laugh that Arline had ever heard. It chilled her; it frightened her; for it carried a tone of menace.
Yet, instinctively, she knew that the laugh was one of triumph — that the man in black had come as a friend. She knew that she and Cliff had been saved — Cliff from Killer Durgan’s gun; she from any fate the brutal murderer might have intended for her.
The man in black stood silently, while Cliff staggered to his feet. He watched the young man walk unsteadily across the room, stepping carefully to avoid the bodies that lay in his path.
He saw Arline rise to meet Cliff. Again The Shadow laughed. Suddenly, he turned and disappeared through the doorway.
Cliff had fully regained his senses. The back of his head was aching; but he had one desire that made him forget the pain. He must take Arline from this room of horror!
He steadied the girl with his arm. Together, they made their way to the hall. Before them lay an open door that led to a stairway. They followed the path ahead. They reached a side alley and walked through to the street beyond. Cliff hailed a cab.
Arline leaned against him as they rode toward her home. The girl was weak, but happy. She had found the man she loved! He had come to rescue her, against great odds!
Cliff, too, was happy, for he knew that the past was understood. He was free — not only from prison walls, but from the memory of the crime that had not been his own.
Still, neither was forgetful. As the cab whirled along Broadway, a single thought was uppermost in the minds of both Cliff and Arline.
Neither could forget that mysterious man in black who had arrived from nowhere to rescue them both from death. They had been saved by The Shadow!