As if from nowhere, a cloaked fighter sprang into the midst of the divided fray. His gun-shots spilled the leopard men amid the whirl of their own clattering knives. Clouts from the swinging automatics added Farnsworth’s other henchmen to the list of The Shadow’s succumbing adversaries.
Finally, The Shadow flung Thara with a whirling spin into the arms of Ronjan. Tangled in her draping cape, the former banshee buried her face in her hands and wept pitifully, not because she felt herself a part of crime, but because she had been frustrated in her attempt to wreak vengeance upon Farnsworth for Yuble’s death.
Men were coming down from the high steps that rose above the stream; they were The Shadow’s agents, Phil among them, coming by the same route that their chief had used to reach this underground treasure haven. They took over custody of Farnsworth, Thara, and even Ronjan, whose own deeds were on the doubtful side.
When Margo and Arlene looked for the cloaked rescuer who had so fully turned the tide, The Shadow was gone. From high up the steps drifted back the weird, strange laugh that spelled triumph in The Shadow’s universal language.
The Shadow was to make a reappearance, but in another guise. This occurred when Commissioner Weston was completing his grilling of a much cowered Craig Farnsworth, down at headquarters, with Inspector Cardona helping in the quiz. Lamont Cranston, casual as ever, arrived to witness the finish.
Briefly, Weston summed the evidence for Cranston’s benefit. Then:
“There’s one thing that even Farnsworth doesn’t know,” declared the commissioner. “He can’t figure how The Shadow discovered the upper entrance down to the grotto. Farnsworth destroyed the documents that mentioned it.”
Cranston raised his eyebrows quizzically.
“Where was that entrance, commissioner?”
“Under a big flat slab,” explained Weston. “The marker covering the grave of Caleb Albersham, the smuggler. It was the blind for the stone stairway leading to the treasure cavern belonging to the Van Woort family.”