The scattered gangsters had met their master. Rats that they were, they were cowering away, thinking only of their worthless hides. The mass attack had been met and defeated.
Then came the break that brought new opportunity to the cringing fiends of crime. The surging patrons of the Club Catalina suddenly burst toward the hallway at the foot of the stairs, in a mad effort to leave this place where guns had roared.
In the midst of a crowd of screaming women and excited men appeared those same mobster faces. Revolvers flashed from below. Protected by the bodies of helpless, innocent persons, these beasts of the underworld raised their guns to fire anew at the master sharpshooter who controlled the stairs.
The situation dawned upon Lamont Cranston before the first of his enemies fired. To pick out the gangsters, he must shoot into the midst of the crowd. At the same time, he would be a target for the gunmen’s fire. The stampede was on, and there was no escaping its consequences if he remained in view.
Swinging up the stairs, Cranston gained the doorway just as a fury of shots burst forth from below. Screams resounded; smoke filled the air; bullets drove into the steps and doorway. The barrier was drilled with holes. It could afford no protection to the one behind it.
Knowing this, the gangsters broke from the crowd and began a new dash up the stairs. They had driven their quarry to cover. They would get him now.
The fiends shouted as they advanced, urging others to follow. That was the worst of their insidious scheme. They were making it appear that the man above was a foe of justice; that they were after a trouble-maker upon whom all blame should be laid.
Parker, the detective, followed with the surge. Playing a double game, he could well afford to join with the attackers. The whole onslaught had the appearance of a justifiable raid.
The gangsters reached the head of the stairs, hoping to find their intended victim dead from shots directed through the door.
It had all been a matter of seconds. The door broke as powerful bodies were flung against it. For an instant, the attackers saw their enemy. Lamont Cranston was across the anteroom, standing by the other door.