There was confusion while the roar of the automatic reverberated through the square-walled room. Hiram Mallory’s light flashed on, to reveal a black-clad figure prone upon the floor in the corner.
Moose Shargin, weaponless, leaped forward with a snarl. As he did so, two black-clad hands came up from that form. Shargin’s leap ended in mid-air as two automatics spurted their flame.
The Shadow had been holding the light away from his body! The shot fired by Briggs had done him no harm!
The Shadow’s new strategy had saved him. Briggs had been about to fire when Moose had leaped. Now, as he pressed the trigger with deadly aim, the bullets found a mark, not in The Shadow, but in Moose Shargin, for the gangster’s body lay as a protection to the man in black.
Another shot came from the corner. It struck Briggs in the wrist. The big man uttered a cry as the blue gun fell from his hand.
Hiram Mallory, cold and determined, was entering the fray. He had drawn an automatic. So had Bob Maddox.
As Mallory came forward, shooting, The Shadow’s bullets smashed the light which he held, and the leaden harbingers of death spelled the old man’s doom.
It was more than a battle for possession; it was a fight for self-preservation. Briggs knew it. Clutching his gun in his right hand, he snarled to Bob Maddox, “Come on!”
MORE shots followed. Groans and cries were uttered in the smoke-filled chamber of death.
In the midst of all the furor, a slight grating noise was scarcely audible. Bob Maddox, still crouching, slid open the trapdoor, and pulled the two nearest suitcases with him as he dropped to safety. He shoved the trap behind him.