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the word to get Maclare。
As policemen leaped to Maclare's side； ready to die with their leader； that strange marksman loosed the fire of one gun from atop the black Maria。 His target was a large one； he picked the glass front of a blazing searchlight。 As his trigger finger tugged； a bullet ripped to its mark。 The searchlight vanished with a clatter of glass。
Crooks gazed toward the patrol wagon。 They saw no one； for the marksman had picked the nearer searchlight and was no longer in the edge of the glare。
But mobsters saw the next token that came from the blotted wagon top。 It was another stab of flame； loosed from the second automatic。
Another crash marked the finish of the second searchlight。 The street looked black； feeble lamplights and illumination from the hotel were pitiful at best。 They were pletely inadequate as an aftermath to the glare that had been so promptly extinguished。
From the sheltering patrol wagon came a sudden sound that belonged with darkness。 It was the strident burst of a sinister； mocking laugh； that brought alarm to every thug who was straining his eyes to offset the gloom。
Men of crime knew that taunt。 It was the laugh of The Shadow！
Black…clad master who battled evil； The Shadow was here in Westford； covering the very spot where slaughter had been ordered。 His first coup had been to deprive crooks of their most important weapons： those searchlights on the coal yard roofs。 With two strategic shots； The Shadow had equalized the battleground。
True； crooks outnumbered Maclare and his squad； they also had machine guns in readiness。 But the law had gained an ally whose strength could offset a score of foemen。 The Shadow was on hand； prepared for instant battle。
Again； the automatics spoke。 From his vantage point； The Shadow fired along the fence top。 Lieutenant Maclare shouted an order。 Policemen dived everywhere； firing as they took to cover。 Revolvers spat from the coal yard； machine guns began a hasty rattle。 Thugs at the doorways of the Mississippi Hotel came 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