Jammed to a stop, the thick tires glided sidewise until the car halted on the very edge of the deep water at the end of the pier.
A wild finish to a desperate ride. But the thrill of this amazing episode was yet to come.
Mere seconds after the coupe had halted, the bright lights of another car plunged down the slope.
The driver of the touring car could see the danger as he spotted the plight of the nearly wrecked coupe. He jammed his brakes before he reached the wharf. His skid was shorter; his stoppage was more abrupt.
The lights of the sedan were now in view. The second of the mob-manned cars was coming up with its horde of desperate killers. Wild shouts were heard from the gunmen.
Coldly, calmly, The Shadow slipped through the door beside the driver's seat. The jolted form of Glade Tremont crumpled completely, along the floor of the car. The door closed.
Tremont, helpless, was trapped within. The Shadow gave no thought to him. There was other work to do. Flight had ended. Fight was to begin!
Poised on the step of the car, his black form clinging to the farther side, The Shadow was standing almost above the watery depths at the end of the pier. First one hand rose; then the other. Each thin black glove was tight about an automatic.
An opening shot came from the body of the touring car. It crashed against the side of the coupe. The Shadow gave no sign of a reply. Another shot splintered a side window. Still, The Shadow was silent. Now, emboldened men were dashing forward. With gleaming revolvers, two gangsters leaped from the touring car. Five more, headed by Jake Bosch scrambled off the running boards of the sedan. Across the docks they raced, protected by the men in the cars behind,
They were anxious to seize their quarry. They knew that they were dealing with The Shadow. Where was he? Hiding in the car? Stunned at the wheel? Or had he leaped into the Sound?