From the darkness of his beleaguered drawing-room, he poked his head toward the shattered windowpane and fired wild shots at the vague men in the darkness.
A wild, intermittent gun battle. Maddox aimed with uncanny intuition. One of the State policemen fell, wounded.
Every time the gun flashed from the window, shots responded from without; but Maddox always got away in time. One of the troopers crept along close to the car. Maddox suspected the ruse. He turned his automatic downward.
Two bullets struck the steel surface of the Pullman. One ricocheted and hit the State policeman. The injured man rolled beneath the car just in time to escape a fatal shot.
Maddox crouched beside the shattered window. The cold breeze served to revive him. Grim and determined, he awaited the next attack.
The troopers were retiring. Maddox could see them slinking away. He fired, but they were out of range. He suddenly sensed danger from beneath. He leaned cautiously from the window, sure that he would be unseen.
He fancied that he saw a form below. Down came his gun. Then a black shape seemed to rise. A long, black arm swung upward. It knocked the automatic from the murderer’s hand. A backward blow from that same arm, and cold metal struck Maddox behind his ear. He managed to roll into the safety of the drawing-room, scarcely conscious.
Out of the night, The Shadow had returned to strike!
The retiring State policemen paused. They could not see what had occurred; yet they were sure something had happened to their enemy. The one uninjured trooper dashed boldly to the side of the car. Scrambling up to the window, automatic in hand, he leaned through.
Maddox had lost his loaded gun; now he swung weakly with the empty automatic that remained. The State trooper dropped away, firing point-blank as he escaped the blow.