Sherwood Mayo had managed to mislead The Shadow by flying to Virginia. But Mayo could not know that The Shadow was here at Greenhurst. Soon — if The Shadow divined correctly — Mayo would return, to find a trap.
Harry continued his vigil. Then, from far away, came the thrumming of an airplane motor. Harry drew an automatic from his pocket. He went to the side door of the lodge, and looked out over the landing space, where the searchlight glared.
The roaring became terrific. A plane swooped down from the sky and rolled along the ground. It taxied back toward the lodge.
Two men clambered from the ship. Sherwood Mayo and Fleming were approaching.
Harry waited. He was ready for a double capture. But he had not reckoned with the cunning of Sherwood Mayo.
The millionaire had one unalterable rule. Whenever the plane arrived, Louie awaited in the doorway, clad in his white coat. This was a detail that had escaped Stuart Bruxton's observation. Sherwood Mayo was wily, and he sensed danger. He saw the opened door, but did not see the man hidden in the darkness. Harry was awaiting his close approach.
Mayo, acting upon a sudden hunch, slipped his hand into his coat pocket. As he neared the door, he dropped to the ground and fired a shot at the open door. Fleming duplicated his action. The shot was a lucky one. It struck Harry in the shoulder.
Gamely, Harry tried to return the fire. His shots went wide. He staggered back from the door as Mayo launched a volley of shots.
Harry stumbled through the hall, instinctively clutching his left shoulder. Mayo's lucky shot had wounded him. Crippled, Harry knew that retreat was the only course. He gained the front door and staggered out just as Mayo and Fleming arrived.
More bullets spattered the door. It was Fleming who was shooting. Sherwood Mayo had gone to the aid of Benson and Louie.