按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
iminary reports would be better than those of the outsiders who formed the Flying Squadron。
As yet； The Shadow had not clashed directly with any of the city's loyal police。 Bluecoats had joined the khaki…clad squadron men in last night's chase； but The Shadow had been speeding away when the regular police took up the chase。
Hence； he was an unknown factor to the real supporters of the law in Westford。
These headquarters men were like the police of Lieutenant Maclare's precinct。 They were capable； but slow…witted。 Director Borman preferred such officers。 The Shadow knew that fact； he took advantage of it。 Despite his trapped position； he saw chance for a quick getaway。
As usual； The Shadow did the unexpected。 His natural course lay downward； but he spurned that route。 His prompt decision was based on the fact that men were better prepared below； moreover； there was no way to guess instantly their number。 Above were but two men； they were in the throes of a second surprise； for they had just found Woodstock's body。 They did not expect The Shadow to e in their direction。
That direction； however； was the one that The Shadow chose； and he took his course with amazing speed。 Wheeling on the stairway； he came upward with long bounds； swinging his arms high； each hand held an automatic。 The detectives were drawing guns； but they ducked as The Shadow came upon them。
Sweeping his arms sidewise； The Shadow carried the pair half across the hall。
He was clear of the light from below。 The startled dicks were sprawled； despite the fact that The Shadow avoided damage with his sweeping blows。 One headquarters man took the back of a gloved fist upon the chin。 That swing； weighted with an automatic； was a knock…out punch。
The other detective swung at The Shadow； missed him in the darkness and fired two wild shots at nothingness。 A swinging forearm staggered him to the top of the back stairs； where he did a downward dive； into the arms of men who were dashing upward。
The Shadow sped down the front stairway； turning the landing just as the flashlight stabbed in his direction。 A detective fired two useless rounds。 The Shadow was gone before the fellow tugged the trigger。
THE SHADOW had made a perfect start； but he knew that it was but preliminary to the struggle that was to e。 Revolver shots had been heard outside； shock troops were prepared to answer the alarm。
As The Shadow hurled the front door open； a spotlight glared full upon him。 The shouts that went up were delivered by hoarse…voiced members of the Flying Squadron。
Nearly a third of that outfit was on hand。 Those sharp…shooting thugs were dangerous with their guns。 Knowing it； The Shadow did not pause to fire at the focused light； instead； he sprang off toward a front corner of the house； getting away from the glare in an instant。
The light swung about； it did not show The Shadow。 He had cut in back of thick； intervening shrubbery。
Guns began to bark； bullets whistled through foliage； thudded the house walls。 A challenging laugh sounded from off beside the house。 Raucous…voiced crooks shouted harsh epithets； as they heard The Shadow's weird mockery。 They fired toward spots whence they thought the sinister mirth had issued。 Their bullets were wide by yards。
No one could place The Shadow's laugh in blackness。 Those who tried； merely rendered their gunfire useless； as The Shadow wanted it。 The real tokens of The Shadow's position came when automatics tongued streaks of flame； straight for men who had revealed themselves by the spurts from their own revolvers。
Groans； not bullets； answered The Shadow。 In four shots； he scored two hits。
The Shadow was on his way again； circling off through darkness while his enemies fired blindly。 A loud mand was issued； it was in Kirk Borman's voice。 The police director recognized the futility of the tactics that his thugs had taken。 He was ordering them to follow a better method。
Khaki…clad thugs spread away； toward the hedges that formed the boundaries of Woodstock's property。 There were patrol cars in the avenue and on other streets。 Each automobile served as a base； men with flashlights passed from car to car。
Borman joined the detectives inside the house； he put men on guard at each door。 A few of the Flying Squadron lugged in the pair of wounded men whom The Shadow had clipped； after that； they hurried to carry out Borman's latest orders。 Those were instructions for the cordon to close inward。
SOMEWHERE in the darkness was The Shadow。 He had paused； expecting the move that came。 It suited him； for his intention was to find an opening and depart while his enemies made futile search。 That was possible； if he moved at the right time。
Two minutes passed； while surrounding men crept closer； searchlights began to sweep from patrol cars； like a barrage above the head of the advancing men。
Wisely； the men in the cars kept the lights high； hoping to disclose The Shadow without revealing the positions of the men who closed in upon the cloaked fighter。 The Shadow saw his opportunity and took it； close to the ground； he moved rapidly outward； just before a flood of light came in his direction。 He escaped the path of the gleam。
The cordon could not function fully until it tightened； the creeping men were expecting The Shadow to lurk until he neared them。 One lone fighter； sought by many； would ordinarily have let the circle close about him。 The Shadow's tactics were different。 He was actually on a line with the closing men； beneath the gleaming lights； like themselves。
The Shadow； however； was moving in an outward direction。 Moreover； he had chosen the simplest path as the one that would be least guarded。 He was creeping along the driveway to the avenue。
The Shadow was almost to the gate before he was discovered； even then； he was noted by accident。 Reinforcements had e up； among them； men on motorcycles。 One of these was ordered to ride through to the house； to form new contact with the police director。 Obeying instructions； the man on the motorcycle chugged for the driveway。 As he took the curve； his headlamp threw a glare inward from the gate。
Squarely ahead； the rider saw The Shadow rising in his path。 The man gave a shout； whipped a revolver from his holster as he applied the brake。 He gained no chance to fire。 The Shadow was launching forward； as the fake cop's gun came up； The Shadow hurdled the handle…bars in a long plunge。
The Shadow's left arm clamped the man's shoulder； as the fellow spilled to the gravel； The Shadow came with him。 The Shadow's right hand clutched a 。45； it was poised for a swing； if the foeman made trouble。 No blow was needed； the rider struck on the back of his head and rolled over； just away from his toppling cycle。
The Shadow sprang to his feet； he was just in time。 The cry had been heard； searchlights were flooding toward the driveway。 Men on the lawn heard shouts； as those in the cars spied The Shadow。 All wheeled about to begin a barrage。 Through sheer speed； The Shadow escaped them。 He was leaping through the gate as the fusillade began。
Guns barked from the patrol cars； but the bullets were scattered。 The men in the cars had the double task of keeping The Shadow spotted with light and continuing the fire until their panions arrived。 They were not equal to the twofold effort。 The Shadow was across the avenue before guns ripped away in earnest。
BOUNDING into his old roadster； The Shadow pressed the starter。 The motor roared as he sped the car off between two houses。 His lights blinked into view； the men from the cordon saw the roadster careen to another street； headed away to flight。 Shouting； the khaki…clad thugs boarded their patrol cars and started in pursuit。
The Shadow reversed last night's procedure。 Though pressed by swift cars and motorcycles； he headed into the city instead of making for the limits。 The roadster lacked speed； but it was ideal for the tricky course that The Shadow took。 He whizzed the small car around the sharpest corners； shot it through driveways； past houses； out through hedges。 Three times he cut back upon his course； like a hare outrunning the hounds。
Shots ripped every time pursuers spied him； and The Shadow answered with bullets of his own。 He crippled the driver of the closest patrol car and put that machine out of the chase。 He picked another foeman from a motorcycle； just as the pursuer sped in from another street to block The Shadow's turn。
The Shadow knew that if he could outrun these foemen； he could reach the goal that he sought。 If he arrived at Ruthley's to confront the master rogue； The Shadow could force the big…shot to call off his hounds； under threat of instant death。
As the pursuit continued； The Shadow gained more distance； but new factors intervened to offset his purpose。
By heading toward the heart of Westford； The Shadow was running into new details of the Flying Squadron。 Radio calls were humming through the ether。 New units came in view at nearly every block。 Sheer nerve was all that saved The Shadow from disaster； twice he ran the gantlet of cars and motorcycles that sought to head him off； relying each time on quick stabs from his own guns to make the opposing marksmen falter。
Each time it worked； for the thugs who served as members of the Flying Squadron knew the identity of their dread foe。 Drivers instinctively changed course when The Shadow's big guns tongued。 Crooks could not fire accurately from their veering cars。
At last； a double circuit brought The Shadow to the railroad tracks。 He sped the roadster across； planning a last dash in the direction of Ruthley's apartment house。
Then came the trouble that The Shadow had hoped to avoid。 Shots flashed from a side street； to elude them； The Shadow drove into an alleyway。 New guns barked from straight ahead。 All came from men on foot。 The Shadow had entered Maclare's precinct。 The lieutenant and his bluecoats were answering the alarm that they had received just prior to The Shadow's arrival。
THE SHADOW jammed the roadster against the curb。 He dropped from it； darted back into the street that he had just left。 He saw an alleyway opposite； he took to it just as a burly man in uniform opened fire from beneath a street light。 It was Lieutenant Maclare； The Shadow could easily have dropped him where he stood。 But The Shadow's quarrel was not with loyal men。
Maclare bawled an order to his men。 Though he did not realize it； the lieutenant was shouting for the death of the very fighter who had saved his own life two nights ago。
Bluecoats responded； they chased along the alley that The Shadow had taken。 The Shadow had outrun them； but two police cars spotted him in the next street。 Recognizing these as belonging to the Flying Squadron； The Shadow stopped to deal with them。
He halted the first car with well…directed bullets； but he could not stop the second。 Bullets hailed from its windows； The Shadow gave a last volley； put away his emptied guns and dived for a space between two buildings。 A bullet clipped him as he sprang。 The thugs in the police car saw him falter。 They leaped to the ground； chased into the alley where The Shadow had gone。
More of the Flying Squadron arrived； so did the regular police。 Khaki uniforms mingled with blue； flashlights lighted space to show a blind alley that terminated in a high board fence； topped with barbed wire。 There were boxes and packing cases stacked all about； any of them might conceal The Shadow。
Lieutenant Maclare arrived to shout an order for men to advance and rout out the fugitive。 Before the order was obeyed； it was countermanded by a higher authority。 Director Borman had arrived； in harsh tones； he ordered the police to riddle the boxes at the end of the blind alley。
While bluecoats hesitated at the murderous order； Borman's khaki…clad henchmen opened fire。 Guns echoed between walls； bullets sprayed through boxes toppled stacks of them from in front of the fence。
With Maclare following； Borman strode forward。 He knew that The Shadow had been wounded； he expected to find the cloaked fugitive dead。 Nearing the fence； the director grabbed up the lowermost boxes and hurled them aside。 He stared； as Maclare's flashlight showed a jagged hole in the corn