A sharp click came from across the room. He looked toward the oddly shaped nook in the corner. His eyes stared in sudden fascination. Was it fancy? No, it was reality! The corner section of the room, with its narrow opening, was slowly descending. Following it, from the ceiling, was emerging a sheet of solid wall.
For the fraction of a second, Bruce Duncan hesitated. In that infinitesimal space of time, a rush of conflicting thoughts filled his brain. Another trap! No trap could be worse than this. A terrible death! All death was terrible. A chance for life! It was a hope at least.
He plunged from the chair, holding his breath as he fell to the floor. As in a nightmare, in which muscles fail in their task, he fought his way across the room. The descending compartment was more than halfway down, yet he crawled through the breach, then slumped in a heap, completely inside the downward-moving alcove.
His smarting eyes caught one last glimpse of the gas-filled room. Then the opening was closed. He was in total darkness - a terrible darkness that seemed to smother him for an instant.
He opened his mouth and gasped; he breathed deeply. Through his nostrils came the reviving tonic of sweet air that brought relief to his bursting lungs.
CHAPTER XIV. A NEW MENACE
IT was a long trip down. The slow, regular movement of the floor beneath him became a relief to Bruce Duncan. He realized that he was in a small elevator between walls of solid masonry. Perhaps he was going to a new ordeal. But future fear could not overcome the present hope that he had gained in escaping from the poisoned atmosphere above.
The darkness continued for a while. Then a crack of light appeared by the floor. It seemed to rise slowly upward as though it were a curtain of illumination. Bruce realized that he had reached the bottom of the elevator shaft.
The light came from a large flashlight that was pointed in his direction. As the brilliance moved up and down under the control of the man who held it, Duncan fancied that he could make out the form of the person behind it.
Some inquisitor, he supposed. Isaac Coffran or his henchman, Pedro, waiting to seize him. He felt helpless; the gas that he had inhaled had left him weak.
The little elevator stopped. Looking upward, Duncan realized that he had reached a low-vaulted room in the cellar of the building. Then a hand gripped him. He was dragged forth to the floor.
The man was bending over him; the flashlight moved upward. From its new position, it revealed the other person. A gasp of relief escaped Bruce Duncan's lips as he recognized the dark anxious face above him.
"Abdul!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, sahib," affirmed the Hindu, in his quiet voice.
"How did you come here?" questioned Bruce, as he sat upon the floor. "How did you find me?"
"I shall tell you later, burra sahib," replied Abdul. "Let us first leave this place of danger."
Duncan tried to rise to his feet. He sank back, momentarily exhausted. His eyes followed the glare of the Hindu's flashlight as it swept about them.
They were in a narrow, low-roofed passage, which terminated in the elevator at one end, and in an arched opening at the other. The Hindu's light was focused on the exit.
"Through there I came," said Abdul. "There we shall go. It is safe there, sahib."
He extended one arm. Bruce Duncan steadied himself and rose with the Hindu's aid. Together they started slowly toward the opening that led to safety.
Just as they reached the low arch, Duncan faltered. As he paused, Abdul stood still beside him. The wait was only a brief second, but before Duncan had advanced another step, some huge device dropped into the glare of the light. There was a swish of cold air, followed by a sharp clang. Two feet in front of the men appeared a solid wall.
Duncan reached out and pressed his hand against hard metal.
"A curtain of steel!" he exclaimed. "A solid sheet of metal! It would have struck us, Abdul, if we had not stopped."
"It has closed our way to safety," replied the Hindu, in his even voice. "We are trapped, burra sahib."
Duncan's rescuer turned the flashlight in all directions. Only the elevator remained as a means of exit. The walls of the room were solid and close together; the steel curtain filled the archway completely. Not even a crack was visible.
There was a click. The elevator began to move slowly upward, a solid wall following from below. It was an ingenious device - part of the room on the second floor of this chamber in the cellar. Going, it left no trace of its existence.
Abdul held the light toward the rising lift.
"Shall we go there, sahib?" he asked.
"No!" exclaimed Duncan. "It leads to death, Abdul. I escaped from a room filled with gas."
"There is no safety here," said the Hindu simply.
"I know that," admitted Duncan. "But it is better than that den I left."
The elevator was gone. A blank, solid wall had taken its place.
Duncan sat on the floor.
"We can do nothing, Abdul," he said. "We must wait. That is all."
With the patience characteristic of his race, the Hindu squatted on the floor beside his master. He turned out the light, and they listened in darkness.
Finally, Bruce Duncan spoke softly.
"Abdul," he said, "why did you come here? How did you manage to rescue me?"
"Burra sahib," said the Hindu, "I suspected evil from the old man last night."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It is not right that I should interfere with what burra sahib may choose to do. But after you have gone away tonight, some voice seems to tell me that Duncan sahib will be in danger. I have the name and address of this old man, sahib. I come here. I see the house dark. I enter. I find this place."
"But the elevator, Abdul. How did you operate that?"
In answer the Hindu turned on the light. He pointed it to the blank wall, then above. On the ceiling, Duncan saw a small button. He doubted that he would have seen it had it not been indicated for him.
"I could reach to there," explained Abdul. "I know that button means something. My eyes are good, sahib. When I see that, I know it has some use. So I press. Down comes the little room - with you, burra sahib."
The Hindu turned off the light.
"Well, Abdul," said Duncan, in the darkness, "you have saved my life. Above here is a room - a room in which I sat, not suspecting that Isaac Coffran was my enemy. The room gradually filled with a poisonous vapor. I pressed a button up there, but it served no purpose, for the elevator was up.
"I can understand the use for the elevator. The old man would have placed my body in it. From here, in the basement, he would have brought down the elevator. An easy, simple way to remove a murdered person."
He rose and groped toward the wall ahead.
"Turn on the light, Abdul," he said.
The Hindu complied. At that instant a cry came from Bruce Duncan. The floor caved beneath him. He dropped downward, but his course was halted by the alert Hindu. The man had dropped the light, and his hands had caught Duncan underneath the arms, just as he was disappearing into the depths below.
AS soon as Abdul had drawn his master to safety the opening in the floor swung upward. It was a hinged device by the wall below the elevator. Its springs made it close so tightly that even under the inspection of the flashlight the cracks seemed hardly noticeable.
"Another danger!" exclaimed Duncan. "My uncle was right. I read his letters, Abdul, in the room upstairs.
He said that Isaac Coffran was a fiend!
"I understand it all, now. He murders a man by gas, in the upstairs room. The body is brought down the lift. It is drawn to the floor, the trap is released and down goes the victim!
"He has discovered my escape, Abdul. He knows that some one has helped me. From some room upstairs he operates his hidden mechanisms. He dropped the curtain of steel. He brought the elevator up again. He released the catches that hold the trap, hoping that one or both of us might fall into some pit below. He has us here, at his mercy. What will he d
o next?"
"We must wait to see, burra sahib," said the Hindu quietly.
Duncan moved cautiously to the steel curtain. He tapped against it with a key. The click seemed loud in the darkness.
There was an answering sound - a faint echo of the click. Yet it brought a sudden hope to Bruce Duncan.
He stepped closer and tapped three times. Three clicks replied.
Using the International code, Duncan slowly spelled out a single word: "Help."
The reply came: "Who are you?"
"It may be a friend, Abdul," exclaimed Duncan in a low tone. "He wants to know who is here."
"Name Duncan," he replied in code.
"Will help," was the answer.
"Tell him, 'Quick,'" came the voice of Abdul, close by Duncan's ear.
"Quick," tapped Bruce.
The first faint clicks of a reply came from the steel curtain. Then they ceased.
"He's gone," murmured Duncan.
"Perhaps to help us quickly," answered Abdul. "Listen, burra sahib. I have heard a new noise."
Duncan heard it. He had not noticed it while listening to the clicking sound from the steel barrier. But it attracted his attention now. It was a deep, dull thumping - an ominous, thudding sound that seemed to come from the side walls of their prison.
"Look!" exclaimed Abdul.
Duncan's eyes followed the glare of the flashlight to one side wall of the room. Slowly, inch by inch, the wall was moving toward him. Its speed was sluggish, but constant.
"It brings death, burra sahib," said the Hindu.
"We must escape," replied Duncan. "But how?"
"We must wait, sahib. Wait until that one beyond the closed way helps."
"Push the button for the elevator. Maybe the room upstairs is free from gas."
"I cannot reach it, sahib. It is above the trap, which is now made so I shall fall."
"That's one way out," observed Duncan grimly. "Drop through the hole. Better than being crushed to death. But we'll wait to the last second, Abdul."
He tapped vainly against the steel curtain. There was no reply. Had the mysterious friend been trapped, also? Perhaps he had gone for more help. Perhaps it had been Isaac Coffran, tantalizing his victims with vain hope of possible escape.
The Hindu still held the flashlight toward the side wall of the room. The crushing barrier was coming closer - slowly but certainly. There might be twenty minutes now left them. Perhaps only fifteen. Duncan's mind was unable to calculate.
Abdul was leaning against the other side wall of the compartment. Bruce Duncan joined him. Together they watched that ever-approaching instrument of destruction.
Thump - thump - thump -
"A few minutes more," murmured Duncan. "A few minutes more, and we can only wait. Wait and hope."
This was more terrible than the gas-filled room above. There death had crept upon him almost unknown; here it was announcing its approach.
The young man and his Hindu servant stood silently side by side. Neither spoke. Both stared rigidly before them, calm yet fascinated by that huge moving surface.
Thump - thump - thump - thump -
The wall was coming closer - closer - closer.
CHAPTER XV. BEYOND THE BARRIER
IT was Harry Vincent who had answered Bruce Duncan's plea for help. As he had heard the last clicks of the code, he had realized that the situation must be desperate.
He had found this steel curtain in the darkness. His flashlight had shown that it was a barrier he could not pass. Then had come the taps to which he had replied.
He seemed to hear a dull thumping on the other side of the metal curtain. What did it signify? Perhaps the man behind the barrier would tell. Yet Harry realized that time must be short. He had found Bruce Duncan. It was his duty to aid the man. How could he help by standing there?
It would be best, he thought, to listen for a few minutes. Perhaps the coded clicks would give him some suggestion that might enable him to rescue the man whom he had come to save. But as he swept the flashlight along the side of the cellar, he understood the situation. It was not a wall that lay between him and Bruce Duncan - it was a curtain of steel that could evidently be raised from above.
As he turned to start a search for stairs to the house above, he heard a sound to one side. He wheeled quickly; as he did, a light filled the room. Plunging upon him was a huge man. Vincent caught the glint of a knife - a machete. He saw a leering face, with a scarred cheek. He turned to escape the enemy, and swung his automatic toward him.
His wrist was seized before he could press the trigger. The pistol fell upon the floor. But though Harry lost his weapon, he managed to escape the thrust of the machete. Quick as a flash he caught the man's right wrist and prevented him from bringing the knife into play.
They struggled silently. The huge man with the ugly face was powerful, yet The Shadow's agent had the strength to resist him. As their arms locked and they stood straining yet almost motionless, Harry realized that he had been discovered in the dark, and that the man had pressed a light switch which illuminated this part of the cellar.
Harry's fierce opponent was a leering, scar-faced brute. Harry, faced by the man's dark visage, took the fellow for a Mexican; a logical guess since the man had first attacked with a machete. Harry battled madly; but he knew from the start that he was waging conflict with an enemy whose strength was far greater than his own.
THE odds were in favor of the attacker. He had nearly caught Harry unaware; he intended to weaken his antagonist. Every second that went by postponed all effort to rescue the imprisoned Bruce Duncan.
Harry realized this. He made a sudden twist. Taking advantage of a slip on the part of his opponent, he eluded the man's grasp and was free. He dashed madly across the cellar toward the opening through which he had come. There he stopped in consternation.
The Mexican, in coming through the cellar, had evidently seen the dim light of the opened window. This part of the cellar was quite dark, away from the illumination farther back. Still, Harry could see that the grating had been closed and fastened.
There was only an instant to take in these facts. The lead that Harry had gained might have been sufficient for him to scramble through had the grating been open. Outside, he might have summoned help. Now, at bay, he turned to meet the onrush of the big man whose machete was raised above his head.
Harry grabbed the fellow's arm and locked in furious struggle. His only hope was to overpower the man now. He was fierce in his attack and he swung the huge Mexican around toward the wall near the grating.
He had gripped the wrist of the hand that held the knife, but in his eagerness Harry lost his clutch on the other wrist. The fellow's left hand pressed against Harry's face and pushed him backward. Harry's arms were pinned in a powerful grasp. The Shadow's agent was suddenly rendered helpless.
In the dimness he saw the outline of the snarling, jeering face. The hand with the machete was free. It poised above him, the weapon pointed toward his chest.
"Hah-hah-hah!" the Mexican's voice panted as he sneered at Vincent. "You think you can fight Pedro?
Hah-hah-hah! You see this?"
The machete wriggled in Pedro's hand. It quivered for the death thrust. The big man's back was against the wall, near the grating. Harry could see the closed bars behind him.
The knife trembled as it began its downward swing.
Then, with startling suddenness, an arm shot through the grating behind the Mexican. A black-gloved hand caught Pedro's descending wrist. The huge man's powerful swing was plucked in mid-air. Harry saw a look of distorted amazement come over Pedro. The man released him suddenly. Harry fell to the floor, and his head thumped against the stone.
Though slightly dazed, he could still see what was happening. That single hand which gripped Pedro's wrist possessed superhuman power, for it was twisting the huge Mexican back and forth as though he had been made of straw.
Another thin-gloved hand came through the hers. There was a
quick movement, and Pedro was hurled headlong. The machete shot from his hand and clanged on the cellar floor. The big Mexican lay still.
A click and the grating opened. Those hands had pried open the fastening in a twinkling. The bars swung inward. A black figure slipped into the cellar and stood over Harry Vincent, looming like a mammoth bat-winged creature.
It bent forward, and Harry believed that he saw two bright eyes in the depths of the black shape. An exclamation came to his parched lips.
"The Shadow!"
A strange, almost mystic whisper came from the figure that hovered above him.
"Where is Duncan?"
"At the other end of the cellar. Behind a steel barrier."
"In danger?"
"Yes."
"Rest yourself for a minute. Wait until I have gone. Then go there to help him."
The Shadow moved away. Harry could see the back of the strange figure in the cloak as it seemed to blot out the motionless form of Pedro. A flashlight was turned on; it was set on the floor. As Harry leaned against the wall, he could see the face of the unconscious Mexican, in the center of the ring of light.
The Shadow was bending over Pedro. Some quick action was indicated by the trembling of the long black cloak. Harry could not see The Shadow's face, but it appeared as though the man was studying the features of the brute on the floor.
Pedro's body moved as The Shadow seemed to tug at it. Something was happening - rapidly. A full minute elapsed, then came a surprising result that made Harry rub his eyes and gasp with astonishment.
The light was lifted from the floor. It shone on a mirror that was held by a hand. With a single motion, the black cloak and hat were lifted upward, then they fell to the floor. A face was revealed in the circle of light. It was the face of Pedro the Mexican!
As the standing figure turned, Vincent could see the features plainly. They were the perfect replica of Pedro's countenance. Even the scar on the cheek appeared in livid vividness.
The lips moved. They showed a sneer. It was an exact representation of the triumphant expression which the Mexican had revealed when he had poised the machete above Vincent's breast.
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