Back at headquarters, late in the afternoon, Cardona received another telephone call. Once more, he recognized the voice which he had identified with The Shadow.
"You are ready for tonight?" came the voice.
"Yes," answered Cardona.
"You have kept your promise? You have told no one the location of the house?"
"I have told no one," replied Cardona truthfully.
The receiver clicked.
Darkness came, and the old house with the barred windows was completely shrouded and silent. Only long shadows of passing vehicles flitted along the side entrance that extended from the street. At last a long, thin shadow appeared beside the house.
Unlike the others, it remained. Finally it melted away, forming a blot against the side wall.
Shortly afterward, the loose grating of the black window moved in the darkness. It came free of its fastenings. The window sash opened; the grating went back into place as of its own accord.
The sash was lowered. Silently, invisibly, as darkly as the night itself, The Shadow had entered the house of mystery!
This time there was no telltale spot of light within the house. The man who had come from the dark moved with certainty.
He found the door to the room with the hanging curtains. He unlocked it noiselessly, with the chosen key.
He passed silently through the dark room and found the opening in the curtains with unerring precision.
Then he passed through the smaller room. The curtains that hung over the alcoved window moved but made no noise. The Shadow was at his post, awaiting The Black Master!
Minutes went by; then hours. The little room was as silent as a tomb. Far away, from the front of the house, came a slight noise.
It was inaudible to those passing by in the street. Ordinary ears would not have heard it. But the keen hearing of the man in the curtained alcove was keyed to its highest pitch.
That noise was the opening of the outer door. It signified the arrival of The Black Master!
Silence followed.
A man had entered, but he, too, could move noiselessly through that strange house. There was no indication where he might be.
The man behind the shielding curtains was calm; in one hand he held an automatic, in the other a flashlight. He was waiting for the all-important moment - and he had not long to wait. His patience was rewarded by a slight sound in the inner room.
A small light clicked. The curtains of the alcove parted the fraction of an inch. Keen, invisible eyes peered through.
Still The Shadow waited. There was no need for haste. His presence was unknown. He knew that the men Cardona had promised would be ready for the signal. His finger was on the trigger of his automatic.
He was timing his surprise for the moment when The Black Master would appear.
At present, the enemy was somewhere in the room - not yet in sight of the narrow aperture between the curtains.
There was another purpose that governed The Shadow's actions. He was waiting to view The Black Master. Cold, calm, and calculating, he always studied his foe when the opportunity presented itself.
Here, tonight, The Shadow had invaded his enemy's lair by stealth. He had turned everything to his own advantage. He knew every spot on the floor of the house. He had made sure, the night before, that the alcove where he now waited was a safe point of vantage.
The fate of The Black Master rested in his hands, and he had decided that the master criminal should answer for his fierce campaign of unrestrained slaughter.
Never before had The Shadow encountered a foe so worthy of his prowess. Until this all-important moment, The Black Master had checked The Shadow at every turn.
The supermind of evil had surrounded himself with a veil of mystery that had thwarted The Shadow for many weeks. But now the end was at hand. The muzzle of the automatic moved between the curtains.
Blackened, the opening of the gun was totally invisible.
There was a noise in the room. Someone was moving closer to the curtains. An arm appeared across the room, near the table against the wall. Then came a body - that of a tall, stoop-shouldered man whose garments were a tight-fitting black, whose head was covered by a dark skullcap.
The man's back was turned. The face of The Black Master was not yet revealed. The Shadow waited.
The hand of the visible man rested beside the desk. A low, venomous chuckle came from the lips of the hidden face. The hand moved upward.
Simultaneously, the unexpected happened. The entire window seat upon which The Shadow crouched gave way! The hidden man was precipitated into empty space, so rapidly that he had no chance to save himself!
But even in that instant of total surprise, The Shadow did not fail. His finger pressed the trigger of his automatic. In his sudden fall, the shot went wide, although the bullet struck the wall less than a foot above the skullcapped head of The Black Master.
The thought dominated The Shadow's mind as he plunged into the space below. Whatever his fate might be, he had given the alarm. The police who surrounded the house would come to the capture of The Black Master.
Headed by Cardona, their surprise attack had chances of success and rescue. The signal had been given!
The Black Master was at bay!
The falling man struck the bottom of the pit. His fall was broken by a thick mattress. His lithe body withstood the shock.
The Shadow raised himself to his feet and groped the sides of the cell about him. Then nauseating fumes swept through the air. The Shadow made one last effort to find his way to freedom. It was hopeless.
Superman though he was, no escape was possible. The overpowering gas found its victim. The Shadow sank into unconsciousness, an outstretched form garbed in flowing cloak, his features still hidden beneath the forward-tilted brim of his soft hat.
From the opening above came a low, mirthful chuckle. The Black Master was gloating over the capture of his foe!
CHAPTER XX. THE MASTER MAKES TERMS
THE bottom of the pit moved upward. It was the flat lift of a small elevator. Upon it lay the body of the man in the black cloak.
He was motionless at first, but as the elevator reached the top of the pit, he stirred slightly. He was too weak for concentrated action.
The front of the window alcove opened. The room was semidark and a form bent over the body of The Shadow. Then the mattress upon which the semiconscious man was lying became a wheeled vehicle.
It moved forward, a noiseless, rubber-wheeled truck. It was pushed through the smaller room, into the apartment with the hanging curtains. There, in the center of the room, the black-cloaked form was rolled upon the floor.
The helpless man did not move for a while. Then he stirred and rose to a sitting position. His black cloak spread and covered his legs.
He had the appearance of a half-formed man, growing through the black carpet of the room.
The dim light changed. It became a wavering blue - a fantastic light in which the man in the black cloak seemed strangely unreal. Beneath that light, his figure cast no shadow!
There was a motion in the curtain at the end of the room. The Shadow rose to his feet. He faced the spot in front of him.
Then came the illusion of a bulging curtain - a black form that had no shape of its own. A white, blurred face appeared - even the keen eyes of The Shadow could not observe its features.
"At last!" came the monotonous voice of The Black Master. "At last we meet!"
The Shadow did not respond.
"You are here" - said The Black Master - "here to do my bidding!"
There was an answer now. A low, mocking laugh came from beneath the broad black hat. It was a laugh of scorn and defiance, a challenge to the man who called himself The Master.
Never - even in his moments of greatest triumph - had The Shadow laughed so tauntingly. The sound reverberated through the room. The billowy curtains seemed to ripple as the echoes resounded.
"You laugh now," said The Black Master. "Later, w
e shall learn if you have cause to laugh!"
The blue lights trembled and cast their uncanny glow. The Shadow remained defiant and undisturbed.
"In this room," said The Master, "I have met men who have chosen to live. I have met some who have chosen to die. Which do you choose?"
There was no answer.
"One man," he continued, "chose neither life nor death. Is that your choice? Your silence will be regarded as assent!"
Still - no answer.
"Very well! You have made your choice!"
The shape advanced from the curtains, its arms extended. Before it hung the crystal globe that sparkled with vivid light. The blue illumination flickered. The form of The Shadow trembled from the shock. The man in the black cloak was riveted to the spot where he stood.
The charges of fascinating electricity shot back and forth through the mystic globe. It was the same test that had dazzled Harry Vincent and had destroyed his will. Now it came in much greater degree, a whirling, sparkling mass of terrifying brightness.
Closer and closer moved the globe, until it pressed against the rim of the broad-brimmed hat. The Shadow wavered. He seemed about to fall. His form relaxed.
The brightness ceased. The blue lights no longer flickered. The globe, sparkling gently, moved back to the curtain and disappeared.
Again The Shadow laughed, with his same defiance. He had met the test of The Black Master and he had ridiculed it!
"You have withstood my power," said the voice from the curtain, "but that is not all. Wait!"
The curtains began to close, forming a smaller space in the center of the room. The blue lights flickered and The Shadow's form wavered.
His mind could resist all that the enemy had to offer, but his physical being could not withstand the currents that swept through his frame. He stood numbed and powerless. The curtains were close about him.
The blurred white face had vanished. Only a black shape remained, outlined against the front of the curtain. An arm came from the curtain. It reached forward and plucked the black hat from The Shadow's head.
A low sound of amazement came from the curtain when the face of The Shadow was revealed.
"The secret of The Shadow," came the monotonous voice. "At last it is understood! The man of many faces - with no face of his own!"
The hand replaced the hat upon The Shadow's head. The flickering of the lights was ended. The Shadow was free to act, with his enemy but a few feet away. He made no action.
He knew too well the powerful forces at the disposal of The Black Master. One false motion would mean instant death.
"Perhaps you wonder why I do not kill you," said The Black Master, in a low, unchanging voice. "I shall tell you why! You are the only living man whom I have not cared to kill!
"You have sought to ferret out my crimes. You have discovered some of them - but not all. Let me ask you - and you may reply if you wish. Why do you seek to destroy me?"
The Shadow laughed in a low, hissing tone.
"I seek to destroy you," he said, in a sibilant, whispering voice, "because you are a creature of crime!
You have brought death upon those who have not deserved it!"
"You, too, have resorted to crime," replied The Black Master.
"Not unless the end has justified the means!"
"With me" - there was a chuckle from the curtain - "it is the means that justifies the end.
"You are the only man in all the world who is like myself. Why should we care for human life? To me, human beings are stupid, useless creatures, with which the earth is overburdened.
"I know no pity. You, too, are pitiless."
"Only when I meet those who deserve no pity."
"None deserve pity," came the voice from the curtain. "Those who seek pity are mere creatures.
"You would not ask for pity! Nor would I! There is only one emotion that I have ever known. That is vengeance!"
The speaker paused to let his final words impress themselves upon the listener. The Shadow made no expression of interest.
"I shall explain," continued the voice. "You - I take it from your actions - believe in justice. Yet you find it in your own way. Where the law does not suffice, you forget the law.
"I believe in justice. One deed that I committed was inspired by justice. That was the death of Hubert Banks.
"Once - long ago - I loved! He destroyed that love! The woman whom I had loved died because of his neglect.
"From then on, my life has been one of hate. I sought vengeance. I waited years to gain it. Then I destroyed him - inch by inch - until he died, a maniac, by his own hand! He knew the pangs of remorse when he died. That was justice.
"In order to destroy the man who deserved destruction, I required human tools. I chose those who were governed by greed and fear. When I had used them, I destroyed them. That, too, was justice!"
"Perhaps," agreed The Shadow. "And by your own measure, your destruction would be justice, also!"
The hidden man chuckled.
"Let us agree on that," he said. "But I have spoken enough on that subject. I shall now discuss you - The Shadow.
"In one-tenth of a second, you can lie dead before me - if I desire it. But I prefer that you should live. For one reason, only - that is because you are the only being that in my estimation is worthy of living. So life is yours - if you will take it."
"Upon what terms?" came The Shadow's challenging vice.
"Upon your word. I offer you companionship - all the power that I possess, with equality.
"If you do not choose it, I demand but one thing. Your promise that you will never molest me, nor interfere knowingly with my plans. Do you agree?"
"No!" replied The Shadow.
"Death is the alternative."
The Shadow laughed contemptuously. Again the weird sound of his mockery swept through those morbid surrounding.
"I shall give you opportunity to choose," said The Black Master sternly. "I shall place you where escape is impossible! There I shall come for your reply.
"You will have but one opportunity. In the meantime - taste of death!"
There was a terrific flare of light. A cloud of pungent smoke filled the room.
With the first burst of brightness, The Shadow crumpled and fell upon the floor, overpowered by a tremendous shock. For a moment he lay in view, a huddled, helpless form. Then came darkness.
The chuckle of The Black Master sounded hoarsely amid Stygian gloom.
CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW RETURNS
THE SHADOW moved unsteadily to his feet in absolute darkness. He stooped and groped about him for his hat. He found it and put it on.
Then his nimble fingers discovered a flashlight in his pocket. A moment later it illuminated the space.
The Shadow was in a stone mausoleum. A covered tomb was in one corner. Upon it rested two circular cylinders, containing crackers and water.
The Shadow laughed. The supply was sufficient to last several days. Evidently The Black Master did not intend to return immediately.
The Shadow made a brief inspection of his prison. No more impenetrable dungeon could have been contrived.
The floor was of concrete, the walls of solid stone. Only by running his fingers around them did The Shadow discover the door of the prison.
It was obvious that the mausoleum was in some obscure cemetery. No human cry would be sufficient to reach the outside world.
Searching through his clothing, The Shadow discovered that he had been deprived of all his possessions, with two exceptions - the flashlight and a flat, black disk - the token of The Black Master! The disk had been left there, evidently, as a reminder that he still had the choice of siding with that being whose crimes were limitless.
The Shadow lifted the top of the tomb and peered within. It was empty. Then his deft hands moved to the bottom of his cloak. The Shadow laughed, and in that solemn vault, the sound reverberated again and again until it died away to a ghostly echo.
The Black Master had sea
rched well; but even he had not fully estimated the ingenuity of The Shadow.
The mausoleum, bolted and locked from the outside, might seem a permanent prison for any man, unequipped with tools or objects with which to attack the thick walls that were built to stand the ravages of time.
But The Shadow's captor had failed when he had searched his victim. He had deprived him of articles that would be useless; but he had left a most powerful and unknown weapon.
The Shadow dug at the lining of his coat. Threads burst beneath his fingernails. The lining dropped, and into his cupped hand poured a mass of fine black powder.
The Shadow removed a cracker from the tin and carefully let the powder form a tiny mound upon it.
Next, he ripped the lining on the other side of his cloak, disclosing another hidden cache.
A grayish powder came from this place of concealment. It was added to the mound of black. With the corner of another cracker, The Shadow mixed the two ingredients.
He carried the cracker carefully across the vault and spread the powder at the bottom of the doorway.
He lifted the cover of the tomb and placed it against the wall. He took the water container to the door and dipped his fingers in the liquid.
He let a few sparse drops of water fall upon the mass of powder. Then he sprang back to the tomb, leaped into it and seized the cover. He dropped flat in the opening, and let the cover fall above him.
A few seconds elapsed. Then came the muffled sound of a powerful explosion. There was no motion from the coffin in the corner until a minute had passed by. Then the cover raised and The Shadow stepped from his place of safety.
The door of the vault had been blasted from its hinges! It had opened half a foot!
The Shadow threw his weight against it. At first it did not yield. Finally it gave, and the man in the black cloak was precipitated headlong into the outside air. He rose and coughed, to rid his throat of the fumes that had filled the vault.
He reached beneath the inner band of his hat and laughed softly as he removed some banknotes that were hidden there.
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