iminary reports would be better than those of the outsiders who formed the Flying Squadron。
As yet； The Shadow had not clashed directly with any of the city's loyal police。 Bluecoats had joined the khaki…clad squadron men in last night's chase； but The Shadow had been speeding away when the regular police took up the chase。
Hence； he was an unknown factor to the real supporters of the law in Westford。
These headquarters men were like the police of Lieutenant Maclare's precinct。 They were capable； but slow…witted。 Director Borman preferred such officers。 The Shadow knew that fact； he took advantage of it。 Despite his trapped position； he saw chance for a quick getaway。
As usual； The Shadow did the unexpected。 His natural course lay downward； but he spurned that route。 His prompt decision was based on the fact that men were better prepared below； moreover； there was no way to guess instantly their number。 Above were but two men； they were in the throes of a second surprise； for they had just found Woodstock's body。 They did not expect The Shadow to e in their direction。
That direction； however； was the one that The Shadow chose； and he took his course with amazing speed。 Wheeling on the stairway； he came upward with long bounds； swinging his arms high； each hand held an automatic。 The detectives were drawing guns； but they ducked as The Shadow came upon them。
Sweeping his arms sidewise； The Shadow carried the pair half across the hall。
He was clear of the light from below。 The startled dicks were sprawled； despite the fact that The Shadow avoided damage with his sweeping blows。 One headquarters man took the back of a gloved fist upon the chin。 That swing； weighted with an automatic； was a knock…out punch。
The other detective swung at The Shadow； missed him in the darkness and fired two wild shots at nothingness。 A swinging forearm staggered him to the top of the back stairs； where he did a downward dive； into the arms of men who were dashing upward。
The Shadow sped down the front stairway； turning the landing just as the flashlight stabbed in his direction。 A detective fired two useless rounds。 The Shadow was gone before the fellow tugged the trigger。
THE SHADOW had made a perfect start； but he knew that it was but preliminary to the struggle that was to e。 Revolver shots had been heard outside； shock troops were prepared to answer the alarm。
As The Shadow hurled the front door open； a spotlight glared full upon him。 The shouts that went up were delivered by hoarse…voiced members of the Flying Squadron。
Nearly a third of that outfit was on hand。 Those sharp…shooting thugs were dangerous with their guns。 Knowing it； The Shadow did not pause to fire at the focused light； instead； he sprang off toward a front corner of the house； getting away from the glare in an instant。
The light swung about； it did not show The Shadow。 He had cut in back of thick； intervening shrubbery。
Guns began to bark； bullets whistled through foliage； thudded the house walls。 A challenging laugh sounded from off beside the house。 Raucous…voiced crooks shouted harsh epithets； as they heard The Shadow's weird mockery。 They fired toward spots whence they thought the sinister mirth had issued。 Their bullets were wide by yards。
No one could place The Shadow's laugh in blackness。 Those who tried； merely rendered their gunfire useless； as The Shadow wanted it。 The real tokens of The Shadow's position came when automatics tongued streaks of flame； straight for men who had revealed themselves by the spurts from their own revolvers。
Groans； not bullets； answered The Shadow。 In four shots； he scored two hits。
The Shadow was on his way again； circling off through darkness while his enemies fired blindly。 A loud mand was issued； it was in Kirk Borman's voice。 The police director recognized the futility of the tactics that his thugs had taken。 He was ordering them to follow a better method。
Khaki…clad thugs spread away； toward the hedges that formed the boundaries of Woodstock's property。 There were patrol cars in the avenue and on other streets。 Each automobile served as a base； men with flashlights passed from car to car。
Borman joined the detectives inside the house； he put men on guard at each door。 A few of the Flying Squadron lugged in the pair of wounded men whom The Shadow had clipped； after that； they hurried to carry out Borman's latest orders。 Those were instructions for the cordon to close inward。
SOMEWHERE in the darkness was The Shadow。 He had paused； expecting the move that came。 It suited him； for his intention was to find an opening and depart while his enemies made futile search。 That was possible； if he moved at the right time。
Two minutes passed； while surrounding men crept closer； searchlights began to sweep from patrol cars； like a barrage above the head of the advancing men。
Wisely； the men in the cars kept the lights high； hoping to disclose The Shadow without revealing the positions of the men who closed in upon the cloaked fighter。 The Shadow saw his opportunity and took it； close to the ground； he moved rapidly outward； just before a flood of light came in his direction。 He escaped the path of the gleam。
The cordon could not function fully until it tightened； the creeping men were expecting The Shadow to lurk until he neared them。 One lone fighter； sought by many； would ordinarily have let the circle close about him。 The Shadow's tactics were different。 He was actually on a line with the closing men； beneath the gleaming lights； like themselves。
The Shadow； however； was moving in an outward direction。 Moreover； he had chosen the simplest path as the one that would be least guarded。 He was creeping along the driveway to the avenue。
The Shadow was almost to the gate before he was discovered； even then； he was noted by accident。 Reinforcements had e up； among them； men on motorcycles。 One of these was ordered to ride through to the house； to form new contact with the police director。 Obeying instructions； the man on the motorcycle chugged for the driveway。 As he took the curve； his headlamp threw a glare inward from the gate。
Squarely ahead； the rider saw The Shadow rising in his path。 The man gave a shout； whipped a revolver from his holster as he applied the brake。 He gained no chance to fire。 The Shadow was launching forward； as the fake cop's gun came up； The Shadow hurdled the handle…bars in a long plunge。
The Shadow's left arm clamped the man's shoulder； as the fellow spilled to the gravel； The Shadow came with him。 The Shadow's right hand clutched a 。45； it was poised for a swing； if the foeman made trouble。 No blow was needed； the rider struck on the back of his head and rolled over； just away from his toppling cycle。
The Shadow sprang to his feet； he was just in time。 The cry had been heard； searchlights were flooding toward the driveway。 Men on the lawn heard shouts； as those in the cars spied The Shadow。 All wheeled about to begin a barrage。 Through sheer speed； The Shadow escaped them。 He was leaping through the gate as the fusillade began。
Guns barked from the patrol cars； but the bullets were scattered。 The men in the cars had the double task of keeping The Shadow spotted with light and continuing the fire until their panions arrived。 They were not equal to the twofold effort。 The Shadow was across the avenue before guns ripped away in earnest。
BOUNDING into his old roadster； The Shadow pressed the starter。 The motor roared as he sped the car off between two houses。 His lights blinked into view； the men from the cordon saw the roadster careen to another street； headed away to flight。 Shouting； the khaki…clad thugs boarded their patrol cars and started in pursuit。
The Shadow reversed last night's procedure。 Though pressed by swift cars and motorcycles； he headed into the city instead of making for the limits。 The roadster lacked speed； but it was ideal for the tricky course that The Shadow took。 He whizzed the small car around the sharpest corners； shot it through driveways； past houses； out through hedges。 Three times he cut back upon his course； like a hare outrunning the hounds。
Shots ripped every time pursuers spied him；