leaping down the steps； cutting loose with their revolvers。
Those mobsters in ambush fired for the area where Maclare and his men had clustered。 They fired uselessly； for the police had spread。 Those ing from the hotel sizzled futile shots in the direction of the patrol wagon。 They； too； were late。 The Shadow had sprung to the fence； e up to the top and slugged down a lone thug who was stationed on the flank。
All that carried menace were the machine guns； for they began to spray their fire。 There were two of them； clicking like typewriters from a roof top midway along the fence。 One rattling weapon ceased； as The Shadow blasted a fusillade at the gunners behind it。 He had picked them by the spurting fire。
CROOKS fired for The Shadow； but their shots were wide。 He had e up to a roof top； there； he ripped another barrage； that settled the men who handled the second machine gun。 Both weapons were silenced； everywhere； crooks were springing to the ground； to avoid the enfolding fire that The Shadow had begun。
By outflanking the foe； The Shadow had routed all but a few； they were the ones upon the very roof top where he had so suddenly arrived。
Three in number； those crooks leaped forward with swinging revolvers； hoping to beat down the fighter whose shape was vague before their eyes。 An automatic thudded against a skull； the other 。45 spat its singeing flame between the eyes of an attacker。 The third crook dived for the ground as his panions sprawled。
Meanwhile； Maclare and his squad had done gallant duty。 Flattened in the street； some had aimed for the fence and roof tops； while others had delivered quick fire toward the open doors of the hotel。 This choice had been a smart one； the officers who took it gained massed targets。 Thugs who had wasted opening shots at the patrol wagon were caught against the framed light of doorways。 Four sagged in quick succession。
Scattering crooks had paused to aim for the low roof where The Shadow had handled three foemen。 They blazed for that darkened spot； again to no avail。
The Shadow had dropped from the back of the roof； he was crossing the tracks of the railroad yard。 His quick shots clipped two marksmen who were firing at the roof。
A hoarse voice shouted from between two buildings。 It was the same leader who had issued the mand to get Maclare。 His new order was a mand for flight。 All thugs who were able； dashed for the street； crossed it and made off through alleys toward the front。 Others sprang back into the hotel。
Lieutenant Maclare shouted for pursuit。 Two of his eight men had fallen in the fight； leaving a pair to care for them； Maclare headed through the hotel； followed by the remaining four。
Inside； thugs were making for the front； Cassley and his detail let them go through。 Loud…whining sirens were announcing the arrival of the Flying Squadron。
Crooks should have found a new trap； but when Lieutenant Maclare reached the front door of the hotel； he witnessed a wild get…away。 The Flying Squadron； a score of men in pursuit cars and on motorcycles were ing in from the left。
Scattered crooks had converged to the right； there they were boarding an assortment of automobiles that were parked beside an old brewery。
As the Flying Squadron pulled up； Maclare bellowed the news and pointed past the brewery。 Promptly； the picked squadron took up the chase。
The brief delay had served the crooks。 Cutting through to another street； a dozen of them made a get…away； in three cars that contained four men each。
The three automobiles took different routes within the next few blocks； to split the pursuing squadron。 Maclare； fuming at the door of the raided hotel； heard the sirens fade in the dim distance。
THERE was a fourth car that had fled； it had taken a route of its own。
Rounding the brewery； this machine had followed a street that led across the railroad tracks； a block away from the Mississippi Hotel。 Swinging past a freight siding； the crooks…three in number…were greeted by shots from the shelter of a steel freight car。
Wildly； they fired in return。 Their bullets flattened on the steel wall of the freight car。 The driver； clipped by a slug from darkness； lost control and swung from the crossing。 His sedan jolted down a low embankment； slewed sidewise and crashed against a signal tower。
There was no stir within the car； when it halted。 Distant policemen heard the crash。 Footsteps racing upon sidewalks told that they were ing to witness the result。 One car…load of fugitives had been bagged； even though the other three had outraced the Flying Squadron。
Blackness moved from beside the freight car。 The purple light of a switch signal glowed upward to show a shrouded form； tall in its guise of black。
Gloved hands dipped mammoth automatics beneath the front of a flowing cloak。
Unseen lips voiced a grim laugh from the muffling front of an upturned collar。
Weird； chilling tones betokened the final stroke of the night's victory。
The sardonic mirth faded； as the cloaked figure passed from the purplish glow。
The battle was ended； The Shadow had left the field to the law。
OUT of darkness； The Shadow had arrived to deal with crime in Westford。
Into gloom； he had returned…after his efforts had saved the life of Lieutenant Maclare and a squad of officers。 Yet the chill of his eerie laugh seemed to hover； for that spectral tone had carried a touch that seemed to concern the future。
Like Lieutenant Maclare； The Shadow had recognized the significance of tonight's episode。 Fierce though the fray had been； it scarcely scratched the surface of the evil that lurked deep within this prosperous city。
Crime and death would be due again in Westford。 Here； evil was organized far beyond the extent that Lieutenant Maclare had guessed。 There would be need for more and greater effort before crime and corruption could be banished。
The Shadow knew those facts。 His appearance in tonight's battle was but proof that he had long been present in Westford； investigating the iniquity which held the city in its grip。
CHAPTER III
BEHIND THE SCENES
HALF an hour after the raid on the Mississippi Hotel； Lieutenant James Maclare arrived back at the first precinct station。 Muffled oaths and dull clatter greeted Maclare when he crossed the patrol room。 The sounds came from the cell room； where policemen had housed an assortment of hoodlums unloaded from the patrol wagons。
There had been many captures following the raid。 Cornered riffraff had thrown away their guns； to surrender； denying that they had carried weapons。
Practically all of these were men who had been inside the hotel at the beginning of the raid。
Lieutenant Maclare felt pleased as he took a seat at his desk and began to prepare a report。 Armed resistance had made the case against the prisoners a stronger one。 Maclare could see jail terms awaiting many of the participants。
Maclare's pleasure increased； when Sergeant Cassley knocked at the door to announce a visitor。 The arrival was none other than Kirk Borman； the police director。
Maclare was on his feet when Borman entered。 Tall； heavy of build； the police director was as much a fighter as Maclare。 Borman's face was sharp…featured； his lips showed a broad smile between his hooked nose and his pointed chin。 Advancing to Maclare's desk； Borman thrust a congratulating hand across the top； to grip Maclare's hand in a solid shake。
〃Fine work； Jim；〃 mended Borman； in a short…clipped tone。 〃You cleaned out a nest of bad eggs。 Carry on with it。 Go after the gilt…edged places in this precinct。〃
〃You mean the Club Adair？〃 queried Maclare。 〃That's one place I'd like to get； Kirk。 Lance Gillick has a gambling joint somewhere in back of that fancy night club front。〃
〃Go after it； tomorrow night；〃 ordered Borman。 〃Telephone me first； though。 I have two headquarters men watching things over there。 I'm going to drop in there this evening and look the place over for myself。〃
〃Lance Gillick will probably see you；〃 remarked Maclare。 〃If he does； he'll pass you a lot of smooth talk。〃
〃All the better；〃 decided Borman。 〃If he thinks I'm the man he has to deal with； he won't be expecting you tomorrow