He stepped back and calmly leveled his automatic at Harry Vincent's heart. With cool indifference, Solly placed his finger on the trigger, and prepared to viciously end the life of The Shadow's operative. It seemed certain doom for Harry Vincent. Two gangsters were clutching him. An armed man was at each entrance. Solly Bricker was about to fire.
No one moved as Solly took deliberate aim. The man at the rear exit was peering through the doorway. The man on guard at the front door, interested in the craftsmanship of his leader, had turned his head to watch Solly.
Five mobsmen — all armed and unscathed. Harry Vincent, weaponless and unconscious.
These were odds that Solly Bricker liked! A million to one in his favor, so he thought. But Solly was wrong. Neither he nor any of the watching men saw the long black shadow that projected itself upon the floor. It started from the hallway, and above it loomed the man himself — a tall, silent figure, clad in black cloak and slouch hat.
The Shadow was present!
Had the mysterious arrival relied upon a single gun; had he acted in haste or had he yielded a sound to tell of his presence, he could not have saved the life of Harry Vincent. But The Shadow never erred!
Each of his black-gloved hands clutched an automatic. With smooth, certain motion, he nudged the pistol in his left hand against the body of the man at the door, and pointed the right-hand gun directly at Solly Bricker. Both pistols spoke together, so that the two shots sounded like one of terrific volume. The first shot eliminated the man at the door. He dropped forward, a wound in his side. The other shot struck Solly's forearm just above the wrist, and plowed on into the gang leader's body. The Shadow's right arm was extended, his left held close to his body. His left hand moved forward from the recoil of the .45. The gun barrel now rested squarely on the crook of his right elbow.
The left-hand gun spoke again with perfect aim. Its bullet clipped the man at the opposite door before the startled gunman could recover from his surprise. The watching gangster went down. As the left hand drew back, the right whirled, and the two automatics were covering the men who held Harry Vincent!
One against five — yet The Shadow had turned the tables in one quick second. A perfect marksman, every one of his timed actions led to another. Three shots, each calculated, had disposed of three enemies. The other two were in The Shadow's power!
Here entered the element of uncertainty. Solly's last two retainers were neither cowardly nor brave. They were toughened gang fighters, who liked to shoot down helpless victims; at the same time, they were men who believed in fighting as the best means of self-preservation.