Crime, Insured s-129 Page 13

  Francine gave a startled gasp. She tried to shout a warning; but Bradthaw was upon her, silencing her cry with a firm-pressed hand.

  Before George could understand, Strampf and Caudrey reached him. Strampf snatched Francine's gun from George's fist. Caudrey produced a revolver of his own.

  Five seconds later, the heirs were helpless. Strampf had Francine covered. George was facing the muzzle of Caudrey's revolver. Standing back, Bradthaw surveyed the prisoners. His expression was no longer genial, nor was his tone friendly.

  Eyes glinting, Bradthaw rasped:

  "You have guessed too much! So I shall tell you more. I am the man who sought your wealth, because I insured it for Caudrey! It goes to him; not to you! I have saved myself a payment of three million dollars; and, in return, I acquire a premium of three hundred thousand!"

  With that statement, Bradthaw's lips took on an insidious smile. To emphasize his declaration, he added:

  "As for The Shadow, he is dead! He died before you ever went to the hiding place that he provided for you. Death will be yours as well! You shall die, because The Shadow is dead!"

  Evil triumph marked the finish of Bradthaw's sentence. Black-curtained walls carried the echo of those words:

  "The Shadow is dead!"

  Marvin Bradthaw liked that echo. He took it as an excellent omen to accompany his decree of doom.

  CHAPTER XXII. THE LAW LEARNS

  DESPITE the menace that confronted her, Francine Melrue showed no terror. Bravely, the girl met Bradthaw's evil gaze; her chin showed its old determination. Turning away, Francine saw George, hopeless and bewildered.

  "Don't worry, George," pleaded the girl. "It was my fault. I was too hasty, that was all."

  "If you had only told me more, sis," interjected George, "perhaps I would have understood. I thought that The Shadow -"

  George hesitated. But in his words, Francine caught the very inference she wanted. For once, George was showing spunk where it was needed.

  "Tell Mr. Bradthaw what you thought, George."

  Francine's statement caught Bradthaw's attention. He looked to George for the answer. Francine smiled as she heard her brother say:

  "I thought The Shadow was still alive. Perhaps that's something that might hit you, Bradthaw. Maybe you'd make terms, on that basis."

  Bradthaw's laugh was raucous.

  "You think that you can trick me!" he scoffed. "You tell me that The Shadow still lives -"

  "Because he does!"

  Francine gave that utterance. It stopped Bradthaw short. Deliberately, Francine continued her statement.

  "I saw The Shadow shortly before my last visit to Reddingham's office," declared the girl. "That is why I went there alone to complete the sale. George knew that there was danger, because I had told him. That is why I had George stay away. He might have shown that he was worried."

  Strampf suddenly injected himself into the conversation. He eyed Francine over the top of his revolver; then spoke to Bradthaw.

  "The girl lies!" announced Strampf. "The Shadow is dead. She is trying to bluff us."

  Strampf's mania for accuracy made it impossible for him to reject any supposition that he had once accepted as a fact. The man's brain worked along grooves. Bradthaw's thoughts were different. The master-crook was impressed by the firmness of Francine's statement.

  "I shall handle this, Strampf," returned Bradthaw. Then to Francine: "Since The Shadow still lives, why did he fail you?"

  There was a ring of irony in Bradthaw's tone. It did not faze Francine. The girl's reply was crisp.

  "The Shadow never failed us," declared Francine. "He remained on constant guard near our hiding place.

  I saw him on several occasions; the last time was early this morning. Before I wrote the letter to Mr.

  Reddingham."

  THIS time Bradthaw saw more than the intensive expression that Francine wore. The supercrook observed George's face and the surprised look that came over it.

  George was remembering his morning glimpse into the courtyard where a blackened shape had so mysteriously blotted itself from view.

  For the first time, George realized that he - like Francine - had seen The Shadow!

  Francine's lips took on a smile. The girl was more confident than ever. Bradthaw suddenly understood the reason. His fists clenched; for the first time he showed excitement. Savagely, he expressed himself to Strampf and Caudrey.

  "The Shadow dictated that letter!" exclaimed Bradthaw. "He ordered Francine to send it to Reddingham to trick us! Don't you see his game? He wanted us concentrated here while he went to rescue his agents!

  He failed in that as we know; but The Shadow may still be alive!

  "The Shadow gave us bait - that idea of a message from WNX. So we would bring these people here" -

  Bradthaw gestured toward Francine and George - "and lay our cards on the table. We thought The Shadow dead: he kept up the pretense, to deceive us. The Shadow may arrive here at any moment!"

  The words jolted Strampf and Caudrey. They saw the smile that Francine still retained. They heard the girl's calm words spoken in full confidence.

  "The Shadow is already here," declared Francine. "He told me the interval that he would require. I assured him that I could delay events that long. The Shadow is waiting" - Francine turned to point to the entrance - "outside that very door!"

  INSTINCTIVELY, Strampf and Caudrey aimed their weapons in the direction that Francine pointed.

  Bradthaw looked toward the door; suddenly he wheeled full about, reaching for a gun of his own. He had caught a sudden inkling of Francine's trick.

  It was lucky for Bradthaw that he swung at that instant. A weird laugh filled the sanctum, a mocking tone that belonged within those shrouding walls. Black curtains hollowed the mirth; made its exact location a mystery.

  To Strampf and Caudrey, the taunt seemed all about them. It left them bewildered, staring at the outer door.

  Only Bradthaw saw The Shadow.

  The cloaked invader had entered his captured sanctum through the window that he had used before.

  Francine's demand for proof regarding The Shadow was a ruse that had worked, exactly as The Shadow wanted it. Keenly, The Shadow had foreseen that Bradthaw would take his conference upstairs to the sanctum.

  That had left the insurance magnate's office clear for The Shadow to enter. From Bradthaw's window the cloaked avenger had scaled to the tower room. Behind his own curtains, The Shadow had witnessed the finish of the scene.

  Francine had displayed all the skill that The Shadow expected, even to the ruse of diverting attention to the outer door. Strampf and Caudrey were totally off guard, no longer covering the prisoners.

  Even Bradthaw's quick recovery did not give him an advantage against The Shadow. Bradthaw was faced by the muzzle of an automatic. To aim with his own gun would mean death. Nevertheless, Bradthaw raised the weapon; and the move brought him his unexpected luck.

  While Francine was making a quick dash for a secure corner of the room, George made the worst move possible. Stampeded by sudden fear for The Shadow's safety, he hurled himself upon Bradthaw, hoping to stop a shot that the crook could never have made.

  It was the very break that Bradthaw wanted. The gray-haired crook whipped George in front of him as a buffer. Behind that human shield, Bradthaw took aim at The Shadow.

  Strampf and Caudrey heard their chief's triumphant shout and wheeled around to aid. The Shadow opened fire not toward Bradthaw, but to cripple the other pair.

  Strampf stumbled as a bullet clipped his shoulder. Caudrey flung away his gun and went scrambling toward the wall.

  Along with The Shadow's shots came jabs from Bradthaw's gun. The shots were wild for George was struggling hard to prevent them. Three bullets were all that Bradthaw wasted. Seeing their futility, he adopted other tactics.

  Keeping George squarely in front of him Bradthaw pressed straight for The Shadow. Half off balance, George could not resist the drive. He was harrying Bra
dthaw's gun arm; that was all. The service would be useless once Bradthaw came within six feet of The Shadow.

  Again The Shadow laughed. His eerie tone rose with a sardonic shiver that brought a scowl from Strampf, a quake from Caudrey. Bradthaw's steely eyes riveted upon the weaving figure in black. The supercrook caught the meaning of that louder gibe.

  It was The Shadow's call for more invaders.

  The Shadow had rescued his agents!

  AS that thought drove home to him, Bradthaw pictured men already on the stairs. He knew that at any moment the door might he ripped open. George Melrue could not serve as a shield against fire from two directions. Bradthaw saw need for other tactics.

  The master-crook acted with surprising speed. He gave a twist that carried him away from George to an angle that was clear of The Shadow's aim. With a terrific spring, Bradthaw lunged upon the fighter in black, aiming as he came.

  The Shadow took a backward step through the curtains. An instant later, Bradthaw was driving through, blazing with his gun.

  The Shadow had whipped aside behind the curtain, intending to flank Bradthaw with a sledged attack, the moment that he arrived. The Shadow wanted the crooked official alive, like Strampf and Caudrey.

  In that, The Shadow was scheduled for disappointment. Perhaps Bradthaw himself, would have preferred surrender to death; but he never gained the choice.

  The mad impetus of Bradthaw's surge could not be stopped. It had forced The Shadow to a quick side twist to avoid the shots. Wheeling in upon Bradthaw, The Shadow started a back-hand gun stroke as the crook came through. The Shadow's gun muzzle whipped the curtains; that brush delayed the swing long enough to produce an unexpected sequel.

  Every ounce of strength was behind Bradthaw's drive, for the murderous villain expected to grip The Shadow. Instead, Bradthaw found vacancy in the space behind the curtains.

  As he escaped the slowed gun slash, Bradthaw plunged headlong against the loosely closed window shutters that he thought were solid wall.

  Those barriers gave outward. Bradthaw's knees hit the low sill. He took a long head-first pitch out through the window. Even The Shadow's quick swoop was too late to halt that dive. Bradthaw's feet delivered a jerky upward kick that broke The Shadow's last instant grasp.

  A screech trailed upward as Bradthaw's body fell. From the window, The Shadow saw the twisting form diminishing in its long drop to the street. Bradthaw glanced from projecting cornices as he fell; each jolt threw him farther outward. His course was like a series of increasing trounces down a mammoth flight of steps.

  Near the bottom Bradthaw, spread-eagled downward, so far below that his size seemed toylike. That last long sprawl carried him to the center of the street, where he flattened, a pitiful blob upon the paving.

  Bradthaw was dead before he took that final smash. No human frame could have stood the buffeting that the master-crook received along his forty-story bounce.

  TINY cars were stopping in the street. Like beetles, people were approaching Bradthaw's body. They knew that something must have happened up above. The law would arrive soon.

  The Shadow stepped back into his sanctum. Others were there, for Bradthaw had been right when he took The Shadow's later laugh to be a signal.

  Harry and Cliff had charge of Strampf and Caudrey. Other agents were in the background: Hawkeye, Tapper and Jericho.

  The Shadow spoke to Francine. She beckoned to George, who came crawling from a corner beside The Shadow's filing cabinet. The two went down the stairs.

  Holding two guns, The Shadow pressed their muzzles against Strampf and Caudrey. In sinister whisper, he ordered the prisoners to follow.

  The agents remained above.

  In Bradthaw's office, The Shadow stood in silent judgment while Strampf and Caudrey coughed confessions. Bradthaw's death had broken Strampf. Caudrey's shrewdness was tinged with a yellow streak that displayed itself when the rogue was cornered.

  All the while, there were hurried sounds from the tower stairs, along with muffled clangs at the door of the freight elevator. Later came silence; at last, a sound from an outer office. The law had arrived.

  The Shadow waited no longer. With a whispered laugh, he turned and took the doorway toward the freight elevator.

  Strampf started to show defiance; he halted as he saw The Shadow's gun muzzle poke back into view.

  Strampf subsided. An instant later The Shadow was gone.

  The front door of the office yanked open. In strode Joe Cardona, followed by a squad.

  THE story that Cardona heard was the most amazing one that had ever reached his ears. Strampf and Caudrey repeated their confessions, prompted by Francine who checked every detail that they had given The Shadow.

  With those confessions lay proof. Caudrey's insurance policy was on the desk; he had put it there at The Shadow's order. Strampf's latest report sheets were also waiting for the law.

  Already incriminated, the cadaverous crook showed the hiding place of Bradthaw's papers that dealt with crime insurance. The entire racket, with all its profits, lay exposed.

  In the hallway beside the freight elevator, Cardona found the three million dollars, stacked in the suitcase.

  He turned over the wealth to Francine and George. With a grim smile, Cardona looked toward the tower stairs.

  Testimony had included mention of The Shadow's sanctum. Cardona wanted to see that black-walled room for himself. He went up the steps two at a time. At the top, Joe stared through the opened doorway.

  The tower room was bare. Every vestige of its stolen furnishings had been removed by The Shadow's agents. In the ground-floor garage, they had overpowered waiting thugs. The Shadow's belongings had gone aboard the truck that Strampf had provided to take away the Melrues.

  The truck was gone, with its cargo. The Shadow had followed the same route as his agents. He would choose a new spot for his hidden headquarters. The Shadow, like his sanctum had vanished.

  THE END

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: ddea07ca-70e3-4327-8ca2-51bb53e4c4b4

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 31.5.2012

  Created using: calibre 0.8.53, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software

  Document authors :

  Maxwell Grant

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