mg.cityofcrime-第10节

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to　aim。
　Beezer　Dorsch　was　staring　squarely　into　the　rounded　mouth　of　an　automatic　…　a　massive　weapon　that　he　was　viewing　at　closer　range　than　ever　before。　That　。45　was　a　living　threat；　for　Beezer　had　heard　it　speak　often　during　his　recent　career　of　crime。
　Above　the　huge　weapon　were　burning　eyes；　the　only　features　that　Beezer　could　see　beneath　the　shading　brim　of　a　slouch　hat。　Below　was　blackness　that　formed　a　shrouded　shape。　Beezer　saw　cloaked　shoulders；　a　thin…gloved　fist　that　gripped　the　steadied　gun。
　Beezer's　revolver　slipped　from　his　numbed　fingers。　It　thudded　the　floor　beside　the　dish…laden　table。　Slowly；　his　hands　came　up；　while　he　stared　at　those　eyes　that　seemed　to　paralyze　him　with　their　hypnotic　spell。　Through　a　confused　whirl　of　thoughts；　Beezer　Dorsch　grasped　the　situation。
　There　was　no　man　named　Shaw。　Nor　was　there　need　to　wonder　why　the　person　who　used　that　name　had　learned　so　much　of　crime　in　Westford。　Stephen　Ruthley　and　his　lieutenants　had　over…looked　the　obvious；　they　had　failed　to　connect　the　supposed　investigator；　Shaw；　with　the　one　person　whose　presence　they　had　actual　cause　to　fear。
　The　supposed　Shaw　was　The　Shadow。　The　cloaked　avenger　was　the　being　who　faced　Beezer　Dorsch。　The　Shadow　had　awaited　Prescott　Dunson　outside　the　hotel；　that　was　why　he　had　been　on　hand；　to　protect　the　man　whom　Beezer　had　murdered。
　The　Shadow　had　not　forgotten　the　letter　that　Dunson　held。　He　had　foreseen　that　Dunson's　killer　might　try　to　trap　him。　The　Shadow　had　arranged　for　it。　He　had　sprung　a　snare　of　his　own。
　The　trap　was　reversed。　The　Shadow；　arch…enemy　of　crime；　had　taken　Beezer　Dorsch　into　his　toils！
　
　
　CHAPTER　IX　
　THE　LAW　INVADES　
　THE　SHADOW　had　arranged　his　trap　with　consummate　skill。　Beezer　recognized　the　fact；　as　he　stared　helpless。　Between　the　table　and　the　corner；　The　Shadow　had　placed　a　floor　lamp；　he　had　tilted　the　shade　upward　so　that　its　glare　was　focused　on　the　room。
　In　a　sense；　The　Shadow　had　employed　the　device　which　Beezer　had　used　on　two　successive　nights。　The　lamp　had　the　effect　of　a　spotlight；　the　corner　behind　it；　darkened　in　parison；　was　The　Shadow's　lurking　spot。　The　position　of　the　lamp　explained　why　Beezer　had　overlooked　the　corner　when　he　passed　it。
　The　crook　had　not　recognized　The　Shadow's　ruse。
　The　lamp's　glare　outlined　Beezer's　face；　and　the　sight　was　not　pretty。　It　showed　the　mobleader's　ugly　profile；　his　scarred　cheek　and　the　knobby；　ill…shaped　nose　that　had　won　him　his　nickname。　Beezer's　features　were　yellowish　in　the　glow；　the　snarl　that　came　from　his　gritted　teeth　would　have　befitted　a　rat。
　The　Shadow　had　stepped　close　enough　for　Beezer　to　see　him　distinctly；　that　move　had　been　essential　to　The　Shadow's　plan。　His　position　enabled　him　to　scrutinize　Beezer　closely；　to　form　his　own　opinion　of　the　ugly　captive　that　he　had　snared。　A　few　brief　seconds　convinced　The　Shadow　that　he　held　the　actual　murderer　who　had　given　death　to　Prescott　Dunson。
　Beezer's　face　showed　it。　So　did　his　manner；　for　his　attempt　at　bravado　was　a　weak　one。　The　yellowish　tinge　upon　Beezer's　face　represented　the　closest　that　the　murderer　could　e　to　actual　paleness。
　Perhaps　The　Shadow　already　knew　of　Beezer's　part。　The　murderer　could　not　tell；　but　he　learned　promptly　that　The　Shadow　had　gained　information　concerning　persons　more　important　than　this　prisoner。　That　became　apparent　when　The　Shadow　spoke；　his　tone　was　an　uncanny　whisper　that　produced　a　shudder　in　Beezer's　squatty　frame。
　〃State　who　sent　you　here！〃　ordered　The　Shadow。　〃Name　all　concerned　in　your　present　move！〃
　It　was　a　mand；　not　a　question。　Beezer　realized　the　full　significance　of　The　Shadow's　words。　Chances　were　that　The　Shadow　knew　who　had　sent　the　killer　here；　Beezer　could　see　trouble　for　himself　if　he　lied。　The　crook　tried　to　snarl　an　answer；　his　voice　was　incoherent。　Quailing；　he　resorted　to　a　whine。
　〃I　didn't　put　the　finger　on　you；〃　he　protested。　〃Honest；　I　wasn't　sent　to　make　no　trouble！　It　was　on　account　of…〃
　
　
　BEEZER　stopped；　knowing　his　whine　to　be　useless。　An　interruption　rescued　him；　the　sound　was　a　cautious　rap　at　the　door　of　the　room。　Beezer　glanced　nervously　toward　The　Shadow。　Hidden　lips　issued　a　mand。
　〃Answer　it！〃　ordered　The　Shadow；　his　whispered　tone　low。　〃Tell　your　pals　to　join　you！〃
　Beezer　gulped；　then　called　hoarsely：
　〃e　in；　you　guys！〃
　〃Move　toward　the　table；〃　ordered　The　Shadow。　〃Keep　your　arms　high！〃
　Beezer　obeyed　while　the　door　was　opening。　He　saw　The　Shadow　step　back　behind　the　focused　lamp。　Footsteps　clumped　inward　from　the　door；　one　of　Beezer's　cronies　questioned：
　〃Did　you　croak　him；　Beezer？〃　There　was　no　reply　from　Beezer。　The　thugs　stopped　as　they　saw　their　leader；　against　the　wall；　his　hands　above　his　head。
　They　swung　about；　looking　for　an　enemy；　their　hands　tightened　on　their　guns；　then　loosened。
　Beezer's　pals　had　heard　a　sinister　whisper。　They　stared　toward　the　corner；　like　Beezer；　they　saw　The　Shadow。　He　had　stepped　into　the　light；　both　his　fists　were　equipped　with　automatics。　One　。45　held　Beezer　motionless；　the　other　covered　the　two　thugs。　They　acted　as　Beezer　had。　Two　revolvers　thudded　the　carpet　together。
　Pointing　with　his　guns；　The　Shadow　huddled　the　three　mobsters　together　at　the　end　of　the　room。　His　unseen　lips　formed　a　mirthful　whisper；　as　ominous　as　the　strident　laugh　that　crooks　had　heard　earlier　upon　this　night。　The　meaning　broke　suddenly　upon　Beezer　Dorsch；　as　he　saw　The　Shadow　put　away　one　gun。　A　telephone　was　in　easy　reach　of　The　Shadow's　free　hand；　his　single　automatic　was　sufficient　to　hold　the　clustered　trio　at　bay。
　〃He's　going　to　give　us　to　Maclare！〃　gulped　Beezer。　〃The　guy　we　tried　to　croak　last　night！　We're　in　Maclare's　precinct；　there　ain't　a　chance　for　us　when　he　gets　us！
　As　he　gave　this　news；　Beezer　started　forward。　He　halted　at　the　threat　of　The　Shadow's　gun　muzzle。　Neither　of　Beezer's　pals　had　nerve　enough　to　back　him　in　a　break　for　safety。　Beezer　saw　The　Shadow　reach　for　the　telephone。　A　second　interruption　halted　the　gloved　hand。
　Another　knock　was　sounding　at　the　door。　It　became　a　violent　pounding。　The　Shadow　knew　that　it　was　not　the　waiter；　so　did　Beezer。　The　murderer　strained　forward；　itching　to　make　a　spring。　A　loud　voice　sounded　from　beyond　the　door：
　〃Open！　In　the　name　of　the　law！〃
　
　
　ONE　part　of　Stephen　Ruthley's　game　had；　as　yet；　escaped　The　Shadow。　That　was　the　big…shot's　plan　to　make　Beezer　Dorsch　a　fugitive　from　justice。　Hearing　the　voice　from　the　corridor；　noting　the　ugly　triumph　that　suddenly　appeared　upon　Beezer's　face；　The　Shadow　caught　the　idea。
　He　knew　that　the　man　who　had　shouted　for　entry　was　not　an　officer　from　Lieutenant　Maclare's　precinct。　Outside　were　members　of　Kirk　Borman's　Flying　Squadron；　here　to　see　that　murder　went　through；　prepared　to　cover　the　escape　of　Beezer　Dorsch　by　pretense　of　a　chase。
　Instantly；　The　Shadow　whipped　out　his　second　automatic。　Turning　his　shoulder　toward　Beezer　and　the　pair　of　thugs；　The　Shadow　covered　them　with　one　gun；　while　he　jabbed　the　other　toward　the　door。　Between　two　groups　of　enemies；　he　intended　to　hold　unarmed　men　at　bay；　while　he　drove　back　invaders　who　would　e　with　ready　weapons。
　As　the　door　shoved　inward；　Beezer　took　a　chance。　He　snarled　a　mand　to　his　pals；　this　time；　they　obeyed。　Thinking　that　Beezer　was　with　them；　the　two　thugs　made　a　desperate　dive　for　The　Shadow。　Surging　with　full　fury；　they　were　upon　him　with　a　single　bound。
　The　Shadow　had　only　one　course。　Fading　toward　the　door；　he　fired　as　he　dropped。　His　bullets　winged　the　thugs；　sprawled　them　to　the　floor。　Beezer　dropped　with　them；　but　his　fall　was　a　foxy　one。　His　pals　had　shielded　him；　Beezer　still　wanted　them　between　himself　and　The　Shadow。
　That　was　scarcely　necessary。　The　Shadow　had　no　more　time　to　deal　with　Beezer。　Spinning　toward　the　door；　he　whirled　straight　into　a　trio　of　policemen；　who　were　clad　in　khaki；　the　distinguishing　uniform　of　the　Flying　Squadron。　Had　there　been　a　bluecoat　in　their　midst；　The　Shadow　would　have　let　that　man　dive　away。　All；　however；　were　khaki…clad。　Director　Borman　had　chosen　those　uniforms；　that　crooks　might　know　their　friends。　The　Shadow　treated　them　alike。
　His　long　arms　were　lashing；　his　heavy　guns　clipped　heads　beneath　visored　caps　and　sent　the　trio　sagging。　In　the　corridor；　The　Shadow　ripped　quick　shots　at　three　more　members　of　the　Flying　Squadron；　winged　one　and　sent　the　others　diving　for　cover。　As　The　Shadow　sprang　past　an　elevator；　the　door　clanged　open；　four　members　of　the　squadron　saw　him　and　charged。　They　swung　their　revolvers；　this　time；　The　Shadow　was　in　the　midst　of　a　slugging　throng。
　
　
　BACK　in　The　Shadow's　room；　a　shot　was　fired。　One　of　Beezer's　wounded　pals　had　taken　a　pot　shot　at　Beezer　himself。　It　was　in　payment　for　his　cowardice；　in　letting　his　pals　bear　the　brunt　of　The　Shadow's　quick　defense。
　That　shot　went　wide；　it　was　Beezer　who　fired　the　next　ones。　Savagely；　the　killer　drilled　both　of　his　pals；　sprawling　them　dead　upon　the　floor；　to　leave　no　witnesses　who　might　proclaim　his　treachery　throughout　the　underworld。
　Springing　to　the　hall；　Beezer　arrived　to　see　The　Shadow　wheeling　away　from　four　foemen。　Beezer　dived　for　a　stairway；　The　Shadow　paused　to　deliver　halting　shots。　A　khaki…clad　foeman　pounced　upo