The Shadow - Xitli, God Of Fire Part 9

Of a dozen, about a third were Cajuns, who would side with Jaro under any circ.u.mstances. The rest of the crowd, beachcombers and roustabouts, were all riffraff who might do anything. Certainly, Jaro could persuade some of those waterfront rats to see things his way. He decided to sound them out.

"You hear what Talborn says," began Jaro. "Pierre has double-crossed us. Maybe" - he threw a wise look at Talborn - "Pierre didn't pay us all we had coming to us before. If we can't trust Pierre -"

A HOLLOW tone interrupted from the rear of the crypt. Jaro and his men turned; like Talborn, they stared in awe at the figure that had stepped into sight from beyond a heap of sacks.

Certainly, their challenger was powerful. His very appearance proved it. The startled men were viewing Xitli, the ominous fire G.o.d, attired in his full regalia.

Green mask, flame-hued robe, vivid headdress, gave the masquerader the appearance of a living monstrosity, a creature who, for all the viewers knew, could have been created by the very atmosphere of the crypt. The hollow tone of Xitli's voice seemed, in itself, a proof that he was something more than human.

Partly m.u.f.fled by the mask, deepened by the walls of the crypt, the voice did hold an unearthly resonance. To the majority of those who heard them, the words of Xitli were commands that could not be ignored.

"It was I who gave the order!" p.r.o.nounced Xitli. "The treasure is to be removed. As for that man" - Xitli pointed toward Talborn - "he is to be taken, also. As for reward" - the tone was scoffing - "I can pay far more than Talborn can ever offer."

Xitli's final words were a mistake. He should have made his rule one of threat, rather than promise. Xitli won out, so far as Talborn was concerned, for men surged promptly in Talborn's direction despite Jaro's appeals for them to wait. But Xitli left himself wide open, should anyone supply a stronger threat.

One came.

The walls of the crypt re-echoed to the fierce crescendo of a mighty laugh, that promised death to any who laid a hand on Talborn. Flung in from the outer darkness by a challenger whose might was known, that sinister mockery brought s.h.i.+vers to men of crime. Amid the echoes, they saw the very being who had countered Xitli's orders - a black-cloaked fighter whose eyes burned from beneath the brim of a slouch hat, as he wheeled into the crypt to prove his mastery.

The Shadow!

The muzzle of The Shadow's automatic was pointed toward Xitli. One tug of his finger would have ended the masquerader's career. Such demonstration was sure to cow Jaro and his riffraff, who, even now, were at odds among themselves.

Talborn saw the situation; to him, it promised life. He was ready to bear the blame for his own crimes, if The Shadow won. Talborn's one fear was that some of Jaro's men might intervene in Xitli's behalf.

Madly, Talborn tried to prevent such disaster.

Springing from hands that made no effort to clutch him, Talborn lunged toward Xitli, shouting for others to follow. His mad rush put him straight in front of The Shadow's gun. As Xitli s.h.i.+fted one way, The Shadow made a side step to get new aim at him. But Xitli's hand had already made a fling.

Gla.s.s crackled on the crypt's floor. There was a burst of flame that dazzled all but The Shadow, whose cloaked arm was half across his face. A .45 thundered its reply to Xitli's fire bomb, but The Shadow had been forced to swing too wide.

Xitli was gone, down behind the protecting sacks, and the crypt was becoming a scene of chaos.

To Jaro's men, the great spurt of fire meant that Xitli was more powerful than The Shadow. Knowing that Xitli favored crime, whereas The Shadow fought it, they took sides with the fire G.o.d.

Even Jaro and the Cajuns sprang for The Shadow, who was trapped in their midst. Xitli's promise of reward now carried the stronger force. One against a dozen, The Shadow seemed doomed.

He would have been, could the attackers have managed to find him. But the very blast of fire with which Xitli had sworn in new followers was the thing that worked against them. Still blinded by the flare, Jaro's men were stabbing knives, shooting revolvers at everything that looked black.

They were making victims out of treasure sacks and the niches in the wall, but they couldn't find the one target that they wanted: the cloaked fighter who was slugging through the midst of them, delivering the mocking laugh they hated, that came from every side, gathered by the crypt and flung upon their eardrums in a fas.h.i.+on that made them think they fought a horde of Shadows.

Xitli saw the muddle that he himself had caused. Like The Shadow, he was undazzled, and took advantage of it. Unable to reach The Shadow in the midst of the fray, Xitli skirted the battle and reached the crypt door, while The Shadow was flinging off fighters in order to get at him.

From a corner where The Shadow had thrust him, Talborn saw Xitli. Though Talborn's eyes were viewing black spots, too, he couldn't be mistaken about the vivid flame-hued costume.

Talborn lunged, half blindly, not noticing the glint of a revolver that Xitli had scooped up from the floor.

Xitli fired, point-blank; then made a frantic leap to outside safety, just before The Shadow managed to break loose and aim his way.

Leaping across the dying figure of Talborn, The Shadow issued from the crypt. He saw Xitli going through a gate, where figures that looked like blocks of stone were lunging in from gloom. Fading for the crypt wall, The Shadow fired at the lunging figures and sprawled a pair of Aztecs, as their hatchets rebounded from the wall. Only Jaro had managed to follow The Shadow. Out from the crypt, he saw the black blot against the marble wall. Savagely, Jaro sprang, intending to bury his knife in The Shadow's back.

Halfway to his target, he was halted short by a pair of Xinca arrows, that came from different angles and crossed points in Jaro's heart.

Xitli was gone, the remainder of the Aztecs with him. Wails of sirens told that police were coming.

With a strange, low laugh that sounded like a mirthless knell, The Shadow effaced himself in darkness, accompanied by the silent Xincas who had aided him in triumph.

CHAPTER XVI. CRIME BRINGS CALM.

FACTS of the fray at the Monseca crypt left New Orleans aghast. That battle was a thing comparable to the greatest events in the city's history. Mere rumors were nothing, compared to the actual discoveries that the police made when they took over the scene of battle.

The truth about Graham Talborn came out. In taking charge of the museum fund, Talborn had raised the hundred thousand dollars that James Carland had failed to supply, but in so doing, Talborn had proven himself as smart as Carland, if not smarter.

As the new benefactor of the Mayan Museum, Talborn had gone to Mexico City, not to dispute about oil concessions, as Carland had, but to arrange the s.h.i.+pment of Mayan relics, which he had managed very nicely.

So nicely, that Talborn had found it child's play to bring in the treasures that Panchez and the mestizos found while with the Hedwin expedition, and planted in among the relics.

Naturally, Talborn had bought out Panchez. He had bought out Laboutard, too, to handle matters at the New Orleans end. Talborn was the one who had mussed things badly during the museum robbery, helping Laboutard to get away. After that one close call, he had s.h.i.+fted activities from the museum; hence the final robbery had taken place on the Amazonia.

Startling enough in itself, the exposure of Graham Talborn was small when compared with the mystery of the strange opposition that had been raised against him. He had, to all appearances, met up with Xitli, the fire G.o.d that Professor Hedwin talked about!

None other than Xitli could have brought Aztecs to New Orleans. Aztecs who had murdered James Carland and Jonathan Dorn; who had later slain Laboutard, and then wiped out Jaro and the whole crew, along with Talborn.

Such, at least, was evidence; for dead Aztecs had been found not only at Laboutard's hide-out, but near the Monseca crypt. Besides, there were wounded men, members of Laboutard's band, who claimed that they had seen a fiery figure who matched Hedwin's description of Xitli.

There was talk, too, of The Shadow, which proved that he had played an important part. Having seen The Shadow at the burning of the yacht Miramar, the police agreed that the cloaked fighter had again been the deciding factor; but that this time, he had handled two factions at once. However, the police were puzzled by finding certain Aztecs who had been felled by arrows, instead of bullets.

They discussed that point with Fitzhugh Salter, on the afternoon following the fray at the Monseca crypt.

Salter received detectives in his office at the Mayan Museum, but he was not much help. The curator could not at all understand the arrows. "Talk to Professor Hedwin," he suggested. "He is better informed on Mayan ethnology than I am, or at least he thinks so. Of course, he will probably attribute this trouble to Xitli, the fire G.o.d. I would prefer that you obtain his opinions first. Meanwhile, I shall study the subject, and let you know when I have more to offer."

THE detectives found Professor Hedwin in his room at the Hotel Luzane, where he had just awakened from an afternoon nap. As Salter had predicted, Hedwin promptly plunged into the subject of Xitli and the cult of the fire G.o.d.

"It is quite obvious that the cult revived itself," declared Hedwin. "I should have known that it was coming" - he shook his head reflectively - "when I heard the beat of Aztec drums at Cuicuilco. Mr. Ames will tell you the same" - Hedwin gestured to Andy, who was seated near him - "and how the drums disturbed us."

"They disturbed me," said Andy, "but you didn't particularly notice them, professor. You were too busy digging up the throne of Xitli."

The professor threw an outraged look at Andy, then turned to the detectives. He examined stone hatchets that they had brought, and took a look at the mysterious arrows.

"The modern remnants of the Aztecs sought vengeance against Talborn," decided Hedwin, "because he was responsible for the thefts committed by Panchez. That is why they revived the Xitli cult and came to New Orleans. Unfortunately, they also identified Carland with the thefts, and slew him first. They killed Dorn next, because they thought that he was in it, too.

"In attacking Talborn, they met with opposition from Laboutard's men. I cannot give the exact details, since I know nothing about criminal investigation. But I can help you regarding these arrows. They are the sort used by certain primitive tribes in Guatemala. Therefore, I would say that certain natives, unfriendly toward the Xitli cult, also came to New Orleans.

"You speak of a mysterious avenger called The Shadow. Perhaps he employed those tribesmen who were unfriendly to the Xitli cult. That would account for his remarkable success, as well as the finding of the arrows."

It sounded logical to the detectives, and to Andy, too, inasmuch as he knew of The Shadow's Xincas. In fact, many things, particularly the fray at the Amazonia, were clearing themselves in Andy's mind. He had struck upon the fact that the Aztecs must have come to New Orleans first; the Xincas later.

There was something else that occurred to Andy. He expressed it to Hedwin, after the detectives had gone.

"About the Xitli cult," remarked Andy. "Since it is active again, right here in New Orleans, wouldn't the members meet in that throne room at the museum?"

Professor Hedwin darted a sharp look toward Andy, then gave a withery smile, accompanied by a head-shake.

"I doubt it," he said. "You must be careful, Andy" - Hedwin's hand fell on Andy's shoulder - "or they will accuse you of harboring absurd notions, like myself. Why should clumsy detectives tramp through the throne room which I so carefully arranged? No Aztecs have been reported around the Mayan Museum."

Nodding his agreement, Andy remarked that he was going out to dinner with Yvonne. He went down to the lobby, where he ran into the detectives. He guessed what was on their minds before they spoke it. "We'd like you to do a favor for us," said one. "Stay with Professor Hedwin, and see what he does. It's for his own good, Mr. Ames. He's a trifle eccentric -"

"If you mean that he didn't like Carland or Dorn," interrupted Andy, "I'll agree with you. Carland left our expedition high and dry, and Dorn didn't help us out as we expected."

"Then you think that the professor -"

"I think he's all right. To prove it, I'll do exactly what you want. I'll go up and chat with him, and sound him out on the whole Xitli business."

RETURNING to Hedwin's room, Andy told him that he had called Yvonne, but that she was out. He began to talk about Xitli and the throne room. Hedwin was right, in Andy's opinion, about keeping the police away from the place; still, as Andy put it, a visit to the throne room might be a very good idea, later.

"A very good idea," decided Hedwin, with a nod. "It might even be that someone is masquerading as Xitli. Look, Andy!" He picked up a small statue of the fire G.o.d from among his curios. "Here is Xitli, himself. How cunning his features are!"

With an upward sweep, Hedwin drew the statue from his outstretched palm. The thing was hollow, and it left an object behind - a small revolver, which gleamed from Hedwin's hand. As Andy gave an instinctive s.h.i.+ft, Hedwin cackled gleefully. Laying the statuette aside, he pocketed the gun. Then: "I think I shall call on our friend Salter," declared Hedwin, "and learn what he really thinks about Xitli."

The professor went out, and Andy grabbed for the telephone. He knew that the detectives had left the lobby, hence they wouldn't be there to stop Hedwin. Andy had to call someone, so he chose Yvonne, whose phone number was in his mind. The girl answered Andy's call promptly. In a tense voice, he told her: "Professor Hedwin just left the hotel. He's going to the museum to talk with Salter. I want you to call Salter and tell him. Then call -"

Before Andy could add "the police," a chuckle interrupted. It came from the door of the room, where Hedwin was standing with the revolver. The professor gestured for Andy to drop the receiver on its hook, which Andy did, glad that Hedwin had not heard him mention Yvonne's name.

Then, keeping Andy covered, Hedwin picked an odd-shaped chain from among the Mayan relics in the room. With a deft sweep, he linked Andy's wrists in the primitive handcuffs.

"So you came back to spy on me," Hedwin clucked. "Very well; we shall put a stop to it! Your ankles next" - he applied another chain, that bound Andy's legs - "and, finally, this!"

The final object was a looped thong, with a metal ring through its knot. Hedwin threw the noose over Andy's head and twisted the ring, thus tightening the loop. The thing was much like a garotte, and a few more twists would have choked Andy; but Hedwin was kind enough to stop it just before the strangulation point.

"Breathe carefully," suggested the professor, "and slowly. But if you try to shout, what happens will be your own fault. I shall see you later, Andy" - Hedwin's cackle reached a high, gleeful pitch - "after I have finished what I intend to do."

Again, Hedwin walked from the room, and soon afterward the telephone began to ring. Andy knew thatYvonne was calling back, but he was forced to listen grimly. At least, Andy decided, Yvonne was safe from harm. She had probably called Salter, and was wondering who should be called next.

Andy was half right.

FROM the hotel where she had been residing since her uncle's death, Yvonne had called Salter, but without an answer. She was calling Andy, to tell him so.

Receiving no reply, Yvonne hung up. Deciding that Andy might have gone to the museum himself, Yvonne went out and called a taxicab. She rode to the Mayan Museum.

It was dusk, and the great pyramid loomed forbiddingly against the last touches of sunset. Yvonne went to the door and found it open; but when she arrived at Salter's office, it was closed. A note on the door stated that the curator would return in fifteen minutes.

Pondering, Yvonne wondered if Salter could still be in the museum. She thought of the exhibit rooms on the top floor.

Walking to the elevators, Yvonne found one open. The car was of the automatic type, and a sudden impulse seized Yvonne. Entering, she pressed the b.u.t.ton to the top floor. Smoothly, the elevator carried her to her destination.

Salter wasn't on the top floor, but the exhibit rooms were still open, with the exception of Xitli's throne room.

Wandering from room to room, Yvonne was gripped with a shuddery feeling. The light was getting dimmer and the statues in the gallery looked like living figures. So did the costumes in the next room, for they were hung from racks. Deciding that the hall was better, Yvonne started through a doorway, then halted in real fright.

Squatty shapes were moving through the hall. They were alive, and very real. From the primitive costumes that they wore, Yvonne identified them as Aztecs, the murderous members of the Xitli cult known to be at large in New Orleans. Frantically, she groped back toward the costumes, expecting to hear padded footsteps follow.

No footsteps came. Evidently the Aztecs were staying in the corridor. Perhaps they were gone, leaving a clear path to the elevator. But Yvonne was afraid to venture out among killers who might recognize her from the night when they had invaded her uncle's apartment and slain him.

A sudden hope struck her.

She had evaded the Aztecs that other night, up until the time she screamed. She might be able to do it again, if she used real stealth. As for recognition, there was a way to avoid it. Among the costumes were primitive dresses worn by Mayan maids, that resembled the very garb of the Aztecs.

Finding one, Yvonne kept deep behind the racks and hurriedly disposed of her modern garb, putting on the Mayan costume, instead. It wasn't a very elaborate outfit. Skirt and tunic formed one piece, and there were slippers shaped like moccasins. Yvonne decided to dispense with the headdress that went with it, because the Aztecs wore none.

With pounding heart, she crept out through the corridor, which had grown darker. A dim glow greeted Yvonne as she pa.s.sed a corner; it was the light from the open elevator. No Aztecs were in sight, but the chance to reach quick refuge made Yvonne forget her stealthy tactics. She started a quick dash for the elevator. Her haste betrayed her. Squatty men popped out from lurking places and overtook her before she could reach her goal. Yvonne held back a scream; knowing that it might be recognized; and her silence proved salvation.

Instead of drawing stone hatchets, the Aztecs merely suppressed her struggles. They bound her, hand and foot, with thong-like cords that they wore as necklaces with their deer-hide costumes. Quite solemnly, the Aztecs carried Yvonne to the door of the throne room and rested her upon the floor.

They began a low-pitched babble, in which Yvonne identified a single word: "Xitli." It chilled her more than the coldness of the stone floor for it meant that the rumors concerning Xitli were actual. Someone, Yvonne was certain, must be masquerading as the fire G.o.d.

Murderous captors had spared Yvonne's life, only that her fate might be decided by Xitli, the fiend of flame!

CHAPTER XVII. TRAILS LEAD HOME.

ABOUT the time of Yvonne's capture by the Aztecs, two men were having dinner together in a hotel dining room. One was Eugene Brendle, and the stocky contractor was more talkative than usual. He had found the man he wanted to see: Lamont Cranston.

Brendle was discussing real estate. He had the t.i.tle deeds to Carland's delta land and was going over them in detail, calculating the price per acre and talking about the possibilities of rice production.

As Brendle warmed to the subject, Cranston listened, his features remaining quite immobile. At last, Brendle shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

"It's no use, Cranston," he said. "Carland was a promoter, while I am not. He sold me on the idea that this land was worth the fifty thousand that he wanted to borrow; but after I gave him the money, I was no longer sure.

"I've been telling you things that Carland told me. I've been more conservative in my statements than he was, but at that, I've overstepped myself. There is only one way to learn if rice can be grown on this land.

That way is to try it."

The first semblance of a smile appeared upon Cranston's lips. Brendle was encouraged.

"I know what you have been thinking," he admitted. "You suppose that I am trying to dispose of a white elephant - and you are right. But I am not actuated because of my own interests; at least, not entirely. I am thinking of Yvonne Carland.

"She insists upon paying her uncle's debt, and she cannot possibly do it. But she is determined enough to try, and for years to come, she will be thrusting dribs of money upon me. Even worse, Yvonne intends to marry a man as determined as herself: Andrew Ames. He will consider it a debt of honor, too.