The Shadow did not see that face, for his gaze was turning to the floor. There, a crippled knife-wielder was writhing upward at The Shadow’s side. His blade was poised in his left hand. Seeking to attack at close range, he had approached The Shadow while the automatics were barking.
The Shadow saw his foe. His right hand swung wide with a long, forceful blow. It struck the Chinaman’s raised wrist, and hurled the assassin sidewise. The knife, loosened from the grasp which held it, clicked harmlessly away.
A yellow hand was beside the face at the window. A gleaming revolver shone. Its muzzle was pointed directly at the form in black. The Shadow’s cloak was spreading, and its crimson lining formed a background for the man within that cloak. The revolver moved upward at the window.
The Shadow, turning suddenly, saw the threatening gleam. His lowered automatic swung upward. Its last shot sped on its way, just as the poised enemy prepared to loose his fire.
The Shadow’s bullet found its mark. It whizzed past the extended arm, almost clicking the gleaming gun. It struck the body behind the revolver.
The leering yellow face dropped backward. A hand waved wildly as the helpless Chinaman toppled from his perch. A moment of impressive silence; then, from the crevice below the window came a dull crash, as the victim reached the bottom of his fall.
The Shadow was helping Cleve to his feet. Dazed and bewildered, the disguised government man clutched his wounded shoulder and staggered forward under his rescuer’s guidance.
They reached the wall beside the doorway. A clatter sounded in the passage. The Shadow’s protecting grip was released. Cleve managed to support himself against the wall.
He saw the man in black leap to the other side of the doorway. Three Chinamen dashed in; two carrying revolvers, one holding a gleaming blade.
They had come, as reinforcements, from the street. Attracted here by the sound of gunfire, they paused and stood blinking at the signs of carnage.