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Up came that hidden left hand。 Swinging into play； it drove the wicked blade straight for the center of Cleve's back。
The action was deft and swift。 Those firmly clenched fingers formed a fist that even a bullet might not loosen on the instant。
Quick though the assassin was； the hidden sharpshooter was swifter。 His fourth shot sounded。 The bullet； skimming a few inches away from Cleve's back； reached its chosen mark…not the hand that held the knife； but the blade itself！
There was a sharp clack as the leaden missive clipped the blade。 The knife was wrested from the hand that held it； as though plucked away by an invisible being。
Cleve Branch； staggering to his feet and drawing his revolver； found himself facing a trio of startled； bewildered Chinamen； whose death thrusts had been thwarted。
Who was this mysterious rescuer？ Cleve did not know。 He realized only that he had been saved from certain death； that he had found enemies where he had expected friends。
The attack had been frustrated by an unseen hand； and one lone rade was ready to assist against a new onslaught。
THE menace of the first encounter had been its suddenness。 Cleve had warning of the danger that was ing now…and he saw that he had much to fear。
He was in the midst of an Oriental nightmare。 This room was dimly lighted by swaying Chinese lanterns。 The three Chinamen； writhing on the floor； seemed grotesque in their odd garbs。 Cleve had no dread of them now。
His eyes were staring about the dim room； peering at challenging yellow faces。
A singsong cry was passing back and forth。 The name 〃Wu…Fan〃 was uttered in a weird； hostile tone。 The pause seemed minutes long…yet it could not have been more than several seconds。
Strange eyes were peering from openings in the opposite wall。 A chattered gabble was telling what had happened。 Amidst the lull； Cleve raised his revolver as a threat； and began to back toward the door where he knew that safety lay。
The effect of his action was startling。 It was the spark that kindled the fire of rage among the foeman。 One purpose dominated the entire throng of Chinese： that their victim should not depart alive。
If Cleve had supposed that his enemies were armed only with long； wicked knives； he now learned his mistake。 As though by given signal； a dozen revolvers flashed into view。
Cleve did not wait for the firing to start。 He blazed away with his revolver； straight at the nearest group of opponents。 One Chinaman fell。 The others dropped behind the shelter of the tables。
Like rats； these Mongols had slipped out of sight； and opened fire from their ambuscades。
As he sought the protection of a table； Cleve fired at spots where his enemies had been。 He aimed well； but his plan could never have succeeded。
He was one against many； and the odds were impossible。 His one lone revolver might account for a few of the attackers； but doom was inevitable。
Cleve could never make that short dash to the door and expect to arrive alive。
Bursts of flame were ing from all quarters now。 The room was ablaze with revolver shots。 Cleve Branch was the target； and bullets smashed against the table which he had chosen for a buffer。 Cleve's answering shots were pitifully small and few。
But he still had help。 The man at the door was fighting with him。 There； from an angle； the hidden marksman could see all portions of the room。 He had a dozen targets； and he chose them well。
Yellow hands spread and dropped their weapons。 Fingers that were pressed to triggers suddenly lost their purpose。 The sharp； staccato barks of the automatic were tokens of unerring aim。
A strange silence dominated the room as the echoes of gunfire died away。
Cleve； bewildered； gradually realized the explanation。
His revolver was empty and useless in his hand。 He had brought no reserve supply of cartridges。 He knew that his weapon had done little damage。 Those shots from the door had turned the tide！
Prone； helpless Chinese were sprawled about the room。 Those who still remained active were too wary。 They were crouching； fearfully； in corners； or they were back behind the refuge of the doorways。
They knew too well that their own shots would betray their presence。 They had seen the havoc wrought。 Not one dared risk encounter with that superman whose aim was everywhere！
TO Cleve； the silence became a sign that all his enemies were fallen or had fled。 In that he was wrong。 His knowledge of the Chinese nature was at fault。
These men were snipers at heart。 They had attacked openly because they were many against one。 Now； realizing their error； those who remained uninjured were lying low； awaiting a false move by the man whose life they sought。
The blackened door was refuge； in Cleve's mind。 The bursts of flame that had emerged from it were signs of sure protection。 With gunfire ended； he felt that escape was the only course。 Escape； before fresh attackers might arrive。
Springing from behind the table； Cleve leaped straight toward the door。
His dash carried him no farther than five feet。 The shots came from hidden Chinamen。 A bullet winged Cleve in the shoulder； and he sprawled headlong on the floor。
The hidden friend was answering。 Shots rang from his reloaded automatics。
But now the task was superhuman。 Cleve's false move had placed his helpless body where it was a target for the aim of merciless snipers。
These Chinese would not be content to let that body lie。 Dead or alive； the form of Cleve Branch was due to receive a full quota of revengeful lead。
Cleve's eyes； upraised toward the door； were staring with both misery and amazement。 For before him appeared a strange； unaccountable form。 Sweeping in from the darkened hallway came a living shadow！
It was The Shadow！
No longer a mere fleeting phantom； The Shadow appeared as a man garbed in black…a flowing cloak upon his shoulders； a slouch hat pulled low over his inscrutable visage。 Two black…gloved hands were clutching their automatics。
The Shadow was ing to the rescue！
His first move was a swift one。 Like a living form of darkness； The Shadow swept forward； and his tall shape blotted out the form of Cleve Branch。
Willfully； The Shadow had made himself the target for those hidden enemies。
His challenge was answered。
No longer was Cleve the victim that the murderers sought。 Their fire turned toward this new menace…the man who had spoiled their schemes…the hidden marksman who had sent their rades sprawling with his wondrous aim。
Swaying evasively； The Shadow made a strange target。 His tall form； moving with a mystic rhythm； seemed to elude the fire of his foeman。 A bullet clipped the top of the slouch hat。 Another zimmed through the flowing border of the black cloak。
From hidden lips came a mocking laugh…a merciless mirth that boded no good for the relentless enemy。 A living target； The Shadow had played the Chinamen's own game。 He had caused their eagerness to prevail over their caution。
Unscathed by the shots that had greeted his appearance； he had surveyed the scene with piercing eyes。 He had marked the