Cooper's face was malicious as he ordered his prisoners to raise their hands above their heads. His good-natured smile had become an evil grin. The fingers of his left hand tugged at his mustache and pulled the adornment from his lip.
"Garrison Cooper!" he exclaimed. "Garrison Cooper died a month ago. He was the sixth man; he carried his secret to his grave, for he destroyed both letters after he received them. He died from a heart attack.
We didn't expect him to come here after we learned of his death. Only the living can come - and they do not leave.
"I don't even look like Garrison Cooper. But you didn't know that. My name is - well, they call me
'Frenchy'; that's enough. I'm Chefano's trump card - his ace in the hole. He left the game in my hands, and I've won!"
Frenchy's white teeth gleamed as he surveyed the men he had betrayed.
CHAPTER XXXVII. THE TORTURE CHAMBER
A LITTLE group of men came into the moonlight, up the stone steps from the passage that extended beneath the old stone ruin. Harry Vincent and Major Weston were in advance, their arms raised.
Frenchy followed, threatening with his automatic. Chefano and Jupe, released from their dungeon, were at the rear.
Chefano took the lead after they had reached the ground. Following a curt command from Frenchy the prisoners walked after Chefano. His path led back toward the lane, but he turned left at the end of the building and stopped at a pair of stone steps that descended beneath the old tower to light a lantern.
The prisoners were taken into a low-ceilinged room that seemed dull and tomblike in the gloom. A doorway showed at the farther corner. It had steps that evidently went up into the stone tower.
In the center of the room was a low, flat table. Chains rested on one end; at the other edge was a long roller of wood that was set in two upright posts. At each end, by a post, was a four-armed winch; these winches were crudely fashioned of wooden spokes. There were chains attached to the roller and chains at the lower end of the table.
"Place them on the table," ordered Chefano.
"Lie down on the table," commanded Frenchy.
Both Harry and the major hesitated.
"Lie down," commanded Frenchy again. "Call Jupe, Chefano. He can take care of them."
Avoiding this threat of the ape-man, the prisoners obeyed. The table was barely wide enough for both of them. At Chefano's directions they placed their feet at the lower end, with their heads a few feet below the roller.
Chefano leered as he fastened their ankles to the bottom of the table and attached the chains of the roller to their wrists. Their arms were extended above them; they were stretched between the ends of the table.
"What's this idea?" questioned Frenchy.
"A rack," said Chefano, hanging the light from the ceiling. "The table was here when I came. So I constructed the posts and the roller. It's exactly like the racks they used in Italy years ago to make prisoners talk. When the roller is tightened, the chains stretch the body between. When the body begins to stretch, the tongue begins to wag.
"I had it ready in case we might need information from some one, but there was no occasion to use it. It was planned for one, but I altered it because of the width of the table."
FRENCHY grinned in admiration.
"You turn the winches, eh?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Chefano. "There is a ratchet on each one. The wheel will not go back. One man can operate both by going from one to the other."
"But we don't need to find out anything from these men, Chefano. I was with them. I know their story."
"It will be good amusement for Jupe," said the heartless Chefano. "I don't want him around when our next visitor arrives. He might excite suspicion. I don't contemplate trouble with the last man. I have the credentials."
"This one is Major Weston," said Frenchy, indicating the Englishman as one would point out an article of furniture.
"Weston!" exclaimed Chefano. "I thought he was the man we buried alive!"
"That was young Duncan. He and this other fellow - whose name is Vincent - met Weston last Tuesday night and warned him. Duncan was hot for excitement, and came up here alone. That was why he made so much trouble. He was prepared for you and Jupe - but not for me.
"I stayed around the town a bit last week. I had a hunch that something might be wrong. I saw Weston in the village. Plainly, he was an Englishman. I followed him to the cottage where he was staying with Vincent. I listened in, and learned part of their game. So I showed up yesterday and let them think I was Garrison Cooper."
"You've been with them since last night!"
"Of course. They had radio communication with New York, or some place, getting instructions from some fellow they call The Shadow. I put the wireless out of commission this afternoon just to be safe."
The words revealed the truth to Harry Vincent. Frenchy had broken the aerial when he went out on the porch; he had tampered with the set when he had been sent into the house for pliers!
"They're working alone now," concluded Frenchy. "So it's up to you. But I'd advise you to let Jupe strangle them and finish the job right now."
"He will strangle them before it's over," announced Chefano as he rolled his lips. "As soon as they commence to shout he'll leave the winches and choke them. We'll let him use the rack for a while. It will amuse him."
He made signs to the ape-man. Jupe had evidently been instructed previously in the use of the rack. The inhuman creature snarled to show that it understood its work.
"Come on," said Chefano. "The Russian may be here. Leave the light so Jupe can see what he is doing."
"One of us had better come back every now and then to see that everything is all right."
"Yes; we'll do that. But don't worry about Jupe. Come along."
The ape-faced creature walked about the table after the two men had gone. It thrust its ugly face above the eyes of the chained men and snarled. It laid its claws upon Vincent's throat, and for a moment he thought the end was near. But the creature evidently remembered its instructions, for it went to the end of the table and clutched one of the winches.
Click! The winch turned a notch. Jupe moved to the other side of the table. There was a click from the second winch.
The ape-man repeated the operations. Harry Vincent could feel the tightening of his arms.
"What about it?" he asked grimly, turning his head toward the Englishman. "Shall we shout and let the beast choke us?"
"Carry on a bit," replied the major.
THE ape-faced man moved slowly from one side of the table to the other, pausing in between to stare over the end of the rack and view the faces of his victims. The roller had pulled the chains taut now; the next turn of the winch brought a groan of agony from Harry. The Englishman caught his breath as the winch on his side was turned.
"I'm going to shout," groaned Harry, "while I have strength."
He saw the hideous face of the ape-man grinning down upon him. He opened his mouth for the cry that would bring death. Strangulation would be pleasant as a relief from this torture.
But before Harry could shout, he saw the monster raise its head and snarl. It was looking at something at the foot of the rack. It seemed about to spring over the bodies of the prisoners.
There, at the foot of the table, stood a black-robed figure that completed the sinister aspect of this torture chamber. It was like some dark phantom of the past, a veritable inquisitor of the Middle Ages. Its face was hidden by its robes, but through the black coverings one could feel the piercing dagger of two eyes -
eyes that burned.
The ape-man did not leap upon the table. Instead he ran around to the side, snarling as he approached the opposite end. Then, from the black-robed form came a hissing whistle - the signal which the monster had been taught to obey. Jupe stopped and crouched beside the table.
"It's Chefano," gasped Harry. "Chefano, come to see us suffer."
"Stay there, Jupe," came the order.
The blac
k-robed figure moved to the top of the table; it leaned over the faces of the stretched men, and its huge shadow seemed to bury them in blackness. Harry felt those eyes upon him. It spoke again - but no longer in Chefano's voice. Its words were uttered in a strange, sibilant whisper that Vincent recognized from the past.
"Attack Chefano and Frenchy," said the deliberate voice. "You will find weapons beside the stone steps.
The two men are within the meeting room. I shall handle the monster."
The winches were released. With amazing quickness the mysterious figure in black released the prisoners. Jupe began to snarl. The hissing whistle silenced him. But as the men on the table raised themselves to a sitting position, the monster sensed that it had been deceived. With a hideous cry of rage, it sprang toward the cloaked being.
Harry saw the tall form merge into the shadows at the end of the room. The ape-man missed his goal.
"Hurry!" came the commanding whisper. "Go!"
Jupe's sharp eyes detected the figure in the gloom. The ape-man, his arms extended wide, approached the shadowy form, to drive it toward the corner. Harry and the major were on the floor, hurrying toward the door as fast as their limbs would respond.
Glancing over his shoulder, Harry saw the black-robed shape elude the ape-man's grasp. With amazing speed it gained the stairway in the corner of the room; it vanished upward in the darkness, with the snarling monster in pursuit.
Down from the stairs, through the low-ceilinged room, echoed a hollow, mocking laugh.
It was a sinister laugh - a laugh more terrifying than the torture of the rack!
CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE FIGHT ON THE TOWER
CHEFANO and his evil accomplice, Frenchy, were completely surprised when their former prisoners appeared in the doorway of the meeting room. The two men were engaged in tense conversation over the table. They looked up when Vincent and the Englishman entered. Weakly, the crooks raised their hands at sight of the two pistols.
Harry ordered them outside the building. Major Weston had discovered a rope in the corner of the room. While Harry covered the captives with his gun, the Englishman bound them and toppled them to the ground. He put their guns in his own pockets.
Their work had been quickly done; now Harry thought of the torture chamber and the stairs to the tower.
The Shadow had rescued them; now he was at bay! Superman though he might be, this strange being of the night was human, and his retreat was cut off by the terrible ape-man, who possessed the strength of a gorilla!
The thought maddened Harry. He pictured a lifeless body on the winding stairs that led to the tower, with Jupe snarling above his fallen prey.
The Shadow's aid ran toward the ruin, and a cry came from his throat. Two forms had appeared upon the top of the old tower. One was tall and lithe in the moonlight; the other was a bulky, crouching figure.
Major Weston had heard Harry's cry. The Englishman raised his automatic. It was a long shot, but his aim was on the ape-man when Harry seized his arm. The two figures had closed together; they were locked in conflict!
The sight was weird and amazing. The Englishman uttered a cry of surprise as he saw the tall figure push the bulky one backward. It was unbelievable that the strange fighter in black could resist the power of the ape-faced monster.
Yet the conflict seemed equal. The ape-man was recovering now, and for a moment The Shadow appeared weakened. Then both forms stood motionless, apparently at ease. But the observers on the ground knew that each of them was using all his strength.
"I'm going up the stairs!" exclaimed Harry.
"Wait!" Major Weston's voice was commanding. "You can do nothing on the tower. You would be hurled aside in that terrible struggle. Your place is here with me. If they separate for an instant we must shoot to kill the monster."
They watched the battle helplessly. At times the figures swayed. Once the ape-man staggered backward, and the major's finger was on the trigger of his automatic. The next instant The Shadow had followed up his advantage. Again the grappling shapes were locked.
Minutes went by - terrible, tense minutes - while the weird fray continued beneath the glare of the risen moon. Then the strength of the ape-faced man became more apparent. It was Jupe who was fighting strongly now.
"There will be a break," promised Weston, his voice betraying his anxiety. "My aim is true, even at this distance. But I must wait until they are apart."
"The monster is forcing the fight," groaned Harry. "We cannot wait long. It will be too late."
AS if in answer to the gloomy prophecy, the two forms on the top of the tower moved steadily toward the parapet. For a tragic moment the figure of The Shadow seemed to lean over the edge. Then, imbued with sudden strength, it regained its former position. Yet the ape-man still held the advantage.
Again human strength began to yield as the power of the fiend increased. The Shadow's form seemed to collapse, going down beneath the bulk of the fierce monster. It reappeared, a twisted shape, half-thrust from the edge of the ruined tower.
Two long arms lost their clutch on the ape-man. They spread apart and grasped the low stone parapet.
The head and shoulders of The Shadow were projecting above the wall. The cloaked avenger was making his last fight for life!
Then came the sickening finish. The Shadow rose in one final effort. He staggered, arms wide, his black cloak fluttering in the night breeze. Weston's automatic thundered as Jupe stepped back for the spring, but the shot went wide. The ape-man merged with his faltering victim. The tall form was lifted upward.
Then it was head downward; the cloak draping on the parapet. The two figures sank as the monster crouched to throw its victim to the ground beneath.
A portion of the parapet gave way as the fighters flattened against it, and a living form fell with the shower of stones, the black robe winding about it as it crashed to its doom on the stones beneath. A crouching figure was silhouetted on the tower.
The Englishman's eyes had rested for an instant upon the shapeless mass that lay among the ruins of the old building. Instinctively he had followed its fatal fall. Now he saw the sinister form by the broken parapet, but as he fired a well-aimed shot, the figure disappeared.
Harry Vincent was clambering over the ruined building, risking his limbs amid the loose stones. His companion followed him. Their one thought was for the man who had fallen. Perhaps through some miracle The Shadow was still alive!
The black robe covered the body. In the glare of the Englishman's flashlight, Harry pulled the cloak aside and stared at the upturned face. A cry of amazement followed. It came from Harry Vincent.
He was looking at the evil countenance of Jupe, the ape-man. In its final spring the monster had become entangled in the black robe of The Shadow. Its powerful body had broken the crumbling parapet. The fierce creature had plunged headlong to its death while The Shadow had managed to hold on in safety as the cloak ripped from his shoulders.
The crouching figure that had remained on the tower was The Shadow!
A sudden noise startled Harry. He looked back toward the entrance to the cellar. Two men were fleeing through the moonlight toward the woods. They were well away, close together. One of them appeared to be carrying something. Chefano and Frenchy were free!
"We cannot stop them," cried Major Weston. "One of them must have slipped the ropes and aided the other."
Harry watched the men as they vanished among the trees. He clambered back over the loose stones.
Reaching the steps, he entered the passage, with the major close behind.
"Where are you going?" asked the Englishman.
"To get the wooden box," replied Vincent. "It was intended as a coffin. It will do for the ape-man's body."
"Hush!" exclaimed the major, as they reached the end of the passage. "I hear something."
A moaning sound came from behind the door of the vault. They opened the barrier. Their flashlights showed a man lying on the floor, bound with ropes. They released him. The Engl
ishman uttered a cry of recognition when he saw the man's face.
"It's Berchik!!" he exclaimed. "I remember him! Samanov's trusted servant. He is the messenger. They captured him! He must have come while we were in the torture chamber!"
"And now they are gone," muttered Vincent. "Chefano and Frenchy - gone - gone with the stolen wealth."
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE HAND OF THE SHADOW
A LOW-BUILT coupe was whirling along a Pennsylvania highway, its yellow hood shining in the moonlight. Two men were laughing as they watched the road flow rapidly beneath the wheels of the car.
"Great work, Frenchy," said the man at the right. He turned and opened a box that lay in the center of the seat.
The box was cubical, measuring approximately one foot in each dimension. It rested free between Chefano and Frenchy; its opened lid revealed a shimmer of sparkling contents that caught the glint of the dash light. Chefano closed the lid and turned a key. Leaning back, he stared forward through the windshield.
"Lucky it was gems instead of gold," asserted Frenchy, his eyes intent on the road ahead. "They must have used the gold for other purposes and sent the sparklers over here because they were easier to carry."
"That's probably the idea," said Chefano. "I wonder how that messenger brought them in. He must have smuggled them."
"Getting by the American customs would be easy," was Frenchy's reply. "Easy, compared to sneaking them out of Russia. Why worry about it, Chefano? We've got them. That's enough."
"Yes, and we're lucky. I wonder who it was that let those fellows loose. Could it have been The Shadow they were talking about? Was that him fighting Jupe on the tower, do you suppose?"
"Probably. And he got what was coming to him."
"I wonder where Jupe went."
"I suppose he's hiding somewhere. Why think about him? You're better off without him, Chefano. He's done his work. He doesn't know enough to talk, even. He can't give you away if they do catch him."
Chefano laughed. Frenchy could see his lips twist as he gazed in the mirror of the car. He thought he saw a dark form, too, and two tiny spots of light, like fires. It was not wise to watch the mirror, going at his high speed.
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