"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 040 - The Death Triangle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Of the four mobsters, one had fled, wounded, for the window which was out of The Shadow's range.
Another, also wounded, managed to scramble to his feet and hurry for the same point of safety. The
Shadow's laugh followed the fleeing crooks.

The other two mobsmen lay upon the floor. One did not stir; the second, however, showed a sudden sign
of life. He writhed, propped himself upon elbow, and leveled a revolver toward The Shadow. The
mobster's lips, twisted in dying pain, phrased venomous oaths.

Calmly, The Shadow covered the man with his automatic; but did not fire. A shot proved unnecessary.
The gangster's curses died; his leaning form collapsed before he could attempt a shot. He had succumbed
to a mortal wound.

Shots came from the direction of the kitchen. One mobster was firing from the window. Answering
reports from below; a shriek betokened the fall of a dying mobster from the window. The Shadow's
sinister laugh was repeated.

The Shadow knew the source of those outside shots. His agent, Cliff Marsland, who had been previously
watching the activities of Mitts Cordy's gang, had come below to cut off retreat. That was the reason
why The Shadow had allowed the two crippled mobsters to flee.

UPON the floor, Sparkles Lorskin lay unconscious. The crook had not recovered from the terrific jolt
which he had received. The Shadow, still in his bewhiskered impersonation of Doctor Johan Arberg,
laughed again as he saw that Sparkles had witnessed no part of the gun fray.

Suddenly, The Shadow swung upward. Dashing from the kitchen came the last of the mobsters.
Choosing the door instead of the window, where darkness lurked below, the wounded ruffian sought to
wrest victory from The Shadow.

With a cry of rage, the mobster hurtled forward, aiming his revolver directly into the white-bearded face
that he knew masked the visage of The Shadow. Up came the automatic. Its final roar resounded. The
gangster plunged forward, his trigger finger jerking spasmodically. Two hopeless bullets pierced the
floor.

The last of the mob lay dead.

In the room which now became strangely silent, The Shadow gave a whispered laugh. It was a grim
paean of triumph, the final note to the swift and scattered struggle.

Almost as in answer to The Shadow's taunt came the distant sound of a police whistle. The roar of guns
had been heard upon the street. The police were on the way.

Turning swiftly, The Shadow picked up the portfolio which he had brought with him. He laid it upon the
table, and there began the change that ended his amazing impersonation of Doctor Johan Arberg.

The Shadow's visit had begun with gems. It had ended with guns. The gems were gained; the guns were
silenced. The might of The Shadow had prevailed.

CHAPTER III. THE SHADOW LEAVES
A POLICE whistle sounded in the darkness of the narrow thoroughfare beside the apartment house