Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 252 - Judge Lawless
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JUDGE LAWLESS
by Maxwell Grant
As originally published in "The Shadow Magazine," August 15, 1942.
He made a mockery of law and justice in his courtroom of evil, until The
Shadow stepped in!
CHAPTER I
COURT OF CRIME
IT was a strange room, this underground place buried in the foundations
of
an old Manhattan garage. A long room, with low ceiling and stone walls, which
gave it the semblance of a prison cell.
The room should have been such a cell, considering the renegades who
occupied it. They were the scum of the criminal sour cream, men wanted by the
police for misdeeds of many sorts.
Not that they looked like what they were.
For one, Dave Channey didn't have a criminal air, nor did he note such
expressions on the faces which he observed in the dull light. Most of them
were
a lot like Menz, the garage man, who had conducted Dave to this underground
domain.
They were waiting here, a score of outcasts, on benches that filled the
center of the room. In front of them was a table on a platform, with a chair
behind it. Over to the right were a dozen chairs of the folding pattern,
arranged in two rows. They completed the furniture in the room.
As for the room itself, it had doors in the long side walls. Dave and
Menz
had entered through one of those doors, and some of the crowd had come through
the other. But there was another spot that might prove to be an entrance.
Behind the platform where the table stood, Dave saw shabby curtains that
apparently hid an alcove. It was toward those curtains that Menz and the rest
kept staring in expectant fashion.
In fact, at that moment Menz was nudging Dave in impatient fashion.
Turning, Dave faced the front of the room again and saw why Menz wanted his
attention. The shabby curtains were parting. Through them stepped a bowed,
crablike figure, whose hair was a powdery gray.
Without even raising his face, the new arrival took the chair. Picking up
a gavel, he gave the table a solid rap that brought everyone, Dave included,
to
their feet.
Across the shoulders of the group, Dave saw a shambling man step up
beside
the table, to receive a nod from the man with the gray hair. Facing the
throng,
the shambler piped in a sharp voice:
"Oyez, oyez, oyez! The court of Judge Lawless is now in session, and will
come to a state of disorder!"
To disorder it did come, as the crowd sat down again. Dave heard loud
guffaws, which showed how the throng appreciated this mockery of justice.
Among
the chortles that sounded in Dave's ear were many wisecracks. One in
particular
that brought a round of laughter, was when someone said:
"Oyez? Oh, yeah!"
Again the gavel pounded, proving that even in this mock court there could
be a limit to travesty. As the group quieted, Dave looked toward the platform
and saw the bowed man raise his head. As sharp as a knifestab, the
significance
of that man's title struck home.
JUDGE LAWLESS!
More than a title, it was a description. Never could any other man have
so
fitted his name. From hunched shoulders glared a face that was ugly, bloated,
to
a satanic degree.
Wide lips showed the bulge of teeth above an underslung jaw. Topping a
flattish nose were narrowed eyes that could only be called glinting slits,
considering the beadlike gaze behind those nearly closed lids. The grizzled
hair of this self-styled judge, instead of giving him a dignity, added to his
demoniac expression.
There was a clatter on the table, and Dave saw that from beneath it Judge
Lawless had brought a small pair of scales. Dave suddenly realized that the
table, of boxlike pattern, was supposed to represent a judge's bench; or,
rather, a bar of injustice.
As Dave watched, Judge Lawless dropped weights on one side of the
balance,
but instead of going down that side of the scale moved up, much to the
merriment
of the assembled unworthies.
Again, Judge Lawless pounded with his gavel, producing what could be
termed a quiet disorder. Surveying the group with those gimlet eyes of his, he
singled out men and beckoned them to the bench. There, in undertones, they
conferred with Judge Lawless, evidently giving him reports on criminal
activities in which they had been engaged.
To others, the "judge" obviously issued instructions that must have
pleased them, considering that when they left the bench their lips carried an
imitation of the Lawless leer, which seemed to be remarkably contagious.
It wasn't easy to make out faces in the dim light, but Dave managed it,
though without the success he wanted. Not one of those faces belonged to
Delker, the man he had hoped to find here.
Menz turned his sallow face Dave's way. It was a narrow face, with sharp
chin, and it looked sharp-toothed, too, as Menz grinned. The crook who posed
as
a garage man thumbed toward the bench, where Judge Lawless had finished his
conferences. Again the shambly stooge was stepping forward.
"That's Fleech," stated Menz. "He's the court crier. He's going to call
the roll. We'll add your name to the list when he gets through."
Obviously, though, some persons who should have been here, were not, for
when Fleech paused at unanswered names, Judge Lawless threw vicious glares
about the place. Fleech didn't have to mark off the absentees. Judge Lawless
would remember them!
From the start of the list, Dave harkened for the name of Delker, but it
didn't come. Either Delker had skipped town, or wasn't showing himself at
these
meetings. That Delker belonged to the tribe that served Judge Lawless, Dave
couldn't doubt. For the scene in this "court" was a greater revelation than
any
that Dave Channey had anticipated in his wildest dreams.
He'd expected to meet with crooks, Dave had, and to pose as one of them
with Menz as his willing sponsor. But he'd pictured a crowd of toughs in some
back room, not an organization such as this. The loose manner of this crowd
was
purely superficial - part of its travesty on a court of justice. One smash of
the gavel and Judge Lawless could make the whole scene serious. For these
followers of the evil judge were not hoodlums, with the possible exception of
a
few.
Delker, for instance, had posed as a gentleman; Menz could pass as an
honest garage man. All the rest unquestionably had manners and vocations which
made them suitable cogs for the smooth criminal machine controlled by Judge
Lawless.
Tonight, Dave was to become one of those cogs, though he would have liked
far better to be a monkey wrench thrown into the works. It was better, though,
to be a cog for the present.
What a feather it would be for the police, could they learn the
headquarters of this criminal gang and raid while the illegal court was in
full
session, with Judge Lawless, master of iniquity, presiding on the bench!
As Dave played with that thought, it happened.
JUDGE LAWLESS had just beckoned in the guards. He was speaking to them in
an undertone on the matter of any late comers and the excuses they might
offer.
Those side doors, where the lookouts should have been keeping tabs
through
peepholes, were totally unwatched. Of a sudden, the doors flung inward and
with
each came a flood of blue-uniformed police.
Eight in all, that squad, and one of them a beefy-faced lieutenant. Every
officer had a drawn revolver, and they showed themselves a picked squad by the
way they brandished those stubby guns. Instantly, assembled crooks became a
snarling ratpack, and Dave found himself one of the rodents, as Menz dragged
him to his feet.
Had Judge Lawless merely thumped his gavel, the scene would have become a
bitter battle wherein outnumbered crooks would have suffered badly,
considering
that the police had them covered for a start. But the Judge wasn't even able
to
grab his mallet, let alone swing it.
The beefy police lieutenant had reached the bench and was holding the
fake
judge powerless under the muzzle of a revolver. Though his leer was ugly and
his
lips spat venom, Judge Lawless was raising his hands, and at the sight of his
action, crooks did the same. Then cops were among them, frisking them, tossing
an assortment of guns on the stone floor.
It was all over, very, very quickly, this round up of the Lawless gang,
and Dave Channey stood much bewildered and somewhat horrified, as he wondered
at his own status.
Dave's name wasn't on the list; nor had the police found a gun on him. Of
those two points in his favor, the list could be the more important.
Fleech, the so called court crier, had that list; what he had done with
it, Dave didn't know. Probably Fleech hadn't found a chance to eat it, but he
might go to that extreme if he saw the opportunity. If only the police would
search the fellow! Raised hands clenched Dave was almost on the point of
offering such a suggestion, when Fleech acted on his own.
As police produced handcuffs to slash on the wrists of prisoners, one
approached Fleech. Near the bench, Fleech turned excitedly to the uniformed
attendant, and exclaimed:
"Not yet! Don't take them yet... they aren't all here! The list... in my
pocket... it will tell you! If you wait -"
The lieutenant gestured for Fleech to lower his hands. The squealer did
so
and produced the list. Taking the sheet, the officer turned to the bench and
proffered the list with a bow. Judge Lawless received it with his left hand,
while he picked up the gavel with his right.
Then with a hard swing, that seemed inspired by his vicious grin, Judge
Lawless drove the gavel to the table. Its resounding smash was an announcement
that the court of injustice was again in session, with Judge Lawless presiding
on the bench!
CHAPTER II
CRIME'S VERDICT
SO swift was the reversal of events, that the result left Dave Channey
breathless. Judge Lawless wasn't the only performer in the startling drama;
the
police were running him a close race. In their case, the term "police" fitted
them about as well as the title "judge" suited Lawless. For they weren't
police
at all.
From the beefy-faced lieutenant down, they were crooks like the rest of
the assemblage, the very ones who had not answered to the names that Fleech
called from the list! They were peeling off their uniforms, costumes fitted
with zippers, and Judge Lawless was giving them the leer of a happy demon,
amid
the plaudits of "prisoners" like Menz and the rest of the early comers.
Judge Lawless had provided a complete surprise, particularly for Fleech.
Now in the grasp of the men he had mistaken for police, Fleech was listening
while Lawless called the roll himself. Cleverly, the self-styled judge had run
in followers not well-known to the rest, and through his ruse had uncovered a
traitor.
What was to happen to Fleech, the crier who had become a squealer, Dave
Channey was soon to see. Pointing his gavel to different men, Judge Lawless
waved them to the rows of chairs at the side of the room.
Among the dozen who followed his gesture was Menz, and Dave suddenly
realized that his companion was becoming a member of a jury appointed by the
judge himself.
Again the gavel rapped; as silence came, Judge Lawless spoke. His voice
was a hard, cold rasp. To Dave, the tone had a grating effect that set one's
teeth on edge.
From where he sat, Dave could see Fleech tremble and sag in the
supporting
hands of the gloating men who gripped him.
"Only an ignorant man would attempt to betray us," announced Judge
Lawless
in his raspy scoff. "Such a man would not be acquainted with the methods used
by
organizations of our sort to make traitors betray themselves.
"My trick is not a new one. It was an invention of the famed Camorra,
which I revived for this occasion. Suspecting that police might visit us on
our
last evening at this meeting place, I resolved to have them arrive earlier
than
the traitor - should there be one - would wish."
Those words "should there be one" were the consummate expression of the
speaker's mockery. Turning as he spoke, Judge Lawless fixed his beady eyes on
Fleech. Then, with lifted gavel, he stared beyond the quaking prisoner to view
the jury.
"You have heard the evidence," spoke Judge Lawless. "What is the
verdict?"
From a dozen throats, Dave heard the same word:
"Guilty!"
Judge Lawless fixed his withering glare on Fleech; even before the harsh
voice spoke, Fleech was sinking to his knees, trying to force whines for mercy
from his lips, only to have his voice fail him.
"You have heard the verdict, prisoner," sneered Judge Lawless. Down came
the gavel with its deadening slam. "The sentence is death and may the devil
take you!"
SENTENCE was scarcely uttered before men were springing forward to handle
its execution. Dave was swept aside by the onrush, which included Menz and the
other jurors. Yet Dave couldn't sicken at the thought of the fate about to
overtake Fleech.
He'd had his own share of dealing with a double-crosser, Dave had. His
thought flashed back to Delker, the glib salesman who had so neatly tricked
him
into handing over the combination to the safe in old Moyland's private office,
thus rendering Dave responsible for the ten thousand dollars that had later
disappeared. Delker, the man whom Dave had treated as a friend!
What difference would it make if Dave should prove that Delker had been
working for Judge Lawless? Even a crook could play fair, where friendship was
concerned. Which was why Dave so suddenly sided against Fleech for trying to
trick Judge Lawless. Fleech was a rat and deserved all that was coming to him!
Again, Judge Lawless was rapping with the gavel. His voice was
stentorian,
as he commanded his men to molest Fleech no further. This judge preferred
disorder in his court, but when it had taken a sufficient run, he was lenient
enough to let orderly conduct disturb the usual routine.
Reversing his gavel, he pointed across the room to a V-angle in the end
partition, indicating that Fleech was to be taken there. Dragged by his
captors, the mauled victim was carried to the spot in question and flung into
the angle where Lawless had ordered him deposited.
That was to become a bloody angle!
Still using his gavel as a pointer, Judge Lawless was graphically
gesturing what came next. He was indicating men to the number of six; as he
pointed each one out, he stabbed the gavel handle Fleech's way.
They understood well enough, for Dave saw them either draw or pick up
discarded revolvers in order to form an impromptu firing squad. Cringing with
battered face half buried in his hand, Fleech didn't witness the process, but
Dave did, and it snapped him from his trance.
No longer could Dave side with Lawless and his murderous tribe, not when
death was in the balance. He was shocked to think that his mind had actually
dwarfed itself to the point where it could countenance crime.
Dave still belonged in the realm of honesty, even though the world
wouldn't include him there, if it listened to Homer Moyland and the tale of
ten
thousand stolen dollars. Murder was about to happen before Dave's eyes, and it
behooved him to stop it.
Or - did it?
Again Dave's thoughts were in conflict. He was seeking justice for
himself
in his own way, otherwise he wouldn't have let Menz bring him to a meeting of
the Lawless clan. It wouldn't be crime to stand by and see Fleech die in a
manner that might not be classed as murder at all. These men who made up the
firing squad were acting according to their own lights - just as was Dave
Channey. At least, Dave could keep hands off.
Teetering on that decision, Dave sat down on a bench and stiffened
himself
sufficiently to watch proceedings.
For the first time, Dave noticed that the judge was playing further
travesty with justice by the garb he wore. His robe, an imitation of the sort
worn in court, was merely an inverted burlap bag, a hole cut in the bottom for
his head, and with slashes down the sides so that it hung loosely from his
shoulders.
Judge Lawless had a gift for farce, enough so to have brought a laugh
from
Dave, if a human life had not been involved.
For Fleech, the victim, had suddenly turned very human - too human, for
Dave to still remain obdurate about the fellow's case.
Fleech's face was lifted; his moans had turned to pleas. Half up from his
knees, he was stretching his hands from the bloody angle, beseeching Lawless
to
spare his life. If Fleech had just been whimpering at the gunners who flanked
him, Dave's better nature might not have sprung to the doomed man's cause. But
Fleech was addressing Judge Lawless in person, and the pitiful tones made
sense.
He'd been forced to treachery, Fleech claimed. The proof was plain, if
only the judge would consider it!
"I didn't give the cops the list," argued Fleech. "They don't know who
belongs -"
"Of course they don't," interrupted Lawless. "If you'd given any names,
they wouldn't have waited for the mass betrayal. They would have taken a few
prisoners beforehand, to corroborate your testimony. You knew, Fleech, what
that would mean. Word would have reached me, and I would have guessed your
treachery!"
"No, no!" pleaded Fleech. "I stalled the coppers, honest I did! They
aren't due for another hour, and I knew the meeting would be all over by that
time. I was going to tell you all about it afterward, judge - honest!"
"Honesty has no status with this court," mocked Judge Lawless. "Nor has
any evidence in behalf of the accused. All that you have stated, Fleech, is
off
the record. Your case is closed-forever!"
HARD on his heel, Judge Lawless swung about. He was turning his back on
Fleech not through any qualms at seeing the fellow die, but to prove his total
disregard for the fellow's life. One hand raised, Judge Lawless was about to
fling it sideward as a signal for the firing squad to blast Fleech into
oblivion.
Ready to risk his life for any man whose cause would not be heard, Dave
was actually poised for a lunge upon the burlap-robed judge - when something
stayed his move -
From somewhere came a laugh so outlandish, that even the taunting echoes
of its challenge seemed more formidable than the rasped utterances of Judge
Lawless. A laugh that could well have come from some other sphere of space, so
ghostly was its arrival. It left men staring blankly, that weird mirth, for
its
author was invisible!
Not for long did he remain so.
To cap that mockery, to give his challenge teeth, he preferred to show
himself - and did!
Curtains parted behind the platform where Judge Lawless had so recently
held the bench. From between those curtains issued a figure cloaked in black
that seemed a materialization of space beyond. There were certain features
that
rendered this ominous being visible despite the gloom.
First, the burn of fierce eyes that shone from beneath the brim of a
black
slouch hat. Next, the presence of two .45 automatics that pointed from gloved
fists emerging from the cloak front.
Staring, Dave Channey knew that this master from the dark must stand for
justice to the same degree that Judge Lawless represented its opposite, evil.
As to the identity of the being in black, Dave did not have to wait to
learn it. That identity was voiced in unison from the hoarse throats of
startled men of crime:
"The Shadow!"
CHAPTER III
DEATH DELAYED
IF Judge Lawless liked disorder in his courtroom, The Shadow was the
proper person to provide it. The hoarse shout that greeted him was proof that
foe-men had accepted his challenge and intended to meet it before disposing of
the helpless victim that they had been ordered to kill.
The fact justified Dave Channey's own decision in the question of Fleech.
If this avenger, The Shadow, planned to rescue Fleech, it was right that Dave
should have done the same. For The Shadow, by his defiant mirth, had
proclaimed
himself a champion of justice as opposed to men of evil.
To side with The Shadow was Dave's proper course, but he hadn't time to
act, so swiftly did events follow. Though equipped with two guns, The Shadow
was immediately confronted by half a dozen, swung by the men who composed the
firing squad.
It was small wonder therefore that he wheeled back toward the curtains
from which he had just come. His fade-out was both rapid and surprising;
literally, he seemed to dwindle into the black background.
Revolvers barked before The Shadow could complete his whirl. Gunners were
shooting across the judge's bench; others were springing to the sides of the
room to angle their fire at The Shadow.
Flat-footed where he stood, Dave couldn't do a thing to help. He thought
it was all up with the Shadow, until he heard the snarl that Judge Lawless
gave; a snarl which was fortunately lost on the ears of others because of the
roar of their guns.
Only Judge Lawless had guessed The Shadow's ruse - and his guess was too
late!
Crooks had reached the box table that served as judge's bench, when it
came heaving upward, sideways. Flung into the midst of three attacking
gunners,
it staggered them, while off in the opposite direction ricocheted a shape in
black - The Shadow!
He hadn't ducked behind the curtains; instead, he had dived to the bench.
Using it as a missile, he was blocking three fighters with it, while making a
drive into the trio on the other side. The Shadow was amid those three,
slugging hard with his automatics when Dave next glimpsed him.
Again revolvers barked, once more without result. Crooks were sagging as
they fired, and The Shadow, reserving ammunition for new combat, wheeled about
with another taunt to blast doom upon the three who were hopping over the
upset
table.
They fired as they came, but The Shadow's shots were sooner, and
accurate.
Two stabs of his guns felled a pair of wild-shooting opponents; side-stepping,
he downed the third with a sideward swing of his gun.
Too late, Dave tried to shout a warning. Judge Lawless had drawn a gun,
and weapons were flashing from the hands of Menz and others. They were driving
for The Shadow, intending to blast at such close range that they couldn't
miss.
But The Shadow didn't need the warning that Dave couldn't give in time.
He
was already on his way to a new position; this time, he was actually choosing
the alcove beyond the curtains.
The Shadow yanked those curtains as he reached them. Crooks close on his
heels saw the curtains coming their way, rod and all. The foremost was caught
in the tangles, while those behind them blasted shots into the alcove. The
answer was The Shadow's laugh; not from the space where bullets bashed, but
from an inner corner of the room!
He'd tricked them again, this human streak in black, reversing his
direction as he flung the curtains. Flanked by The Shadow, they were in for
trouble - or would have been if they hadn't come around at a shout from
Lawless. The gray-haired man with the uncanny eyesight had again spotted The
Shadow's course.
In that moment came Dave's chance for action.
It concerned Fleech. Out from the triangular niche that was to have been
his death spot, came the condemned man, snatching up a dropped gun from the
floor. He jostled Dave as he passed him, and from the fellow's wild manner, as
well as the direction of his drive, Dave guessed the fellow's objective.
Fleech was seeking to kill The Shadow!
Dave didn't wait to guess Fleech's reasons; the fellow's purpose was
enough.
WITH a long lunge, Dave intercepted Fleech and grabbed for the man's gun.
The shot that Fleech fired did more than rip wide.
Swung about by Dave, Fleech turned his gun in a new direction - toward
Judge Lawless. Coming around when he heard the shot, Lawless took it that Dave
had acted in his behalf, not The Shadow's. Seeing that the strugglers would
serve him as shields, Lawless hurled himself upon them, and in the melee,
Fleech broke loose.
Driving in from the other side, The Shadow was suddenly met by Fleech,
who
then - apparently for the first time - revealed his real purpose.
As only a condemned man could, Fleech battled far beyond his normal
strength. His energy, returned, he was a human wildcat as he grappled with The
Shadow.
Seeing Fleech as the adversary of the moment, The Shadow made the most of
it, reeling back into his corner dragging Fleech along. Nobody could get a
shot
at The Shadow without winging Fleech first, and the man's combat was so
vehement
that others preferred to let him continue it.
All thugs that could went dashing for the bloody angle at the far end of
the room, and Judge Lawless followed, dragging Dave along. Why they were
boxing
themselves in, in the worst place possible, Dave couldn't understand-until he
saw that the worst place was the best.
That angle wasn't merely part of a partition. It was a revolving door!
Swinging to the left, the door took men through in fours. As it swallowed
each quartet, another section came around to gobble another batch. Dave was
among the last, and after him came Judge Lawless, who threw a swift glance
over
his shoulder to see how The Shadow was making out with Fleech. With the look,
Lawless aimed his gun.
The move saved his life.
Already The Shadow had divined how matters stood with Fleech. He'd beaten
off the frantic man's attack and was shoving Fleech away. Making a quick
side-step, The Shadow was starting an elusive fade-out, knowing that Lawless
would never clip him with a hasty shot. Pivoting, The Shadow was about to
blast
his master foe, when Judge Lawless fired.
Wise as ever, Lawless didn't aim for The Shadow. He picked Fleech
instead.
The traitor jolted. His sideward spill, a chance result of the bullet
that
felled him, sent him right into The Shadow's path. The cloaked fighter was
forced to make another feint, and during it he lost his chance to reach Judge
Lawless.
Without waiting to see what happened, the gray-haired criminal hurled
himself through the revolving door after Dave and the others.
What surprised Dave was the fact that the door didn't carry them fully
through. Instead, it ejected them at the first quarter into a passage at the
left, behind the very partition that marked the limit of the courtroom.
Dragged by two men ahead, shoved by Lawless from the back, Dave could
only
hope that The Shadow would follow. If the cloaked fighter appeared, Dave
intended to delay the rush.
The Shadow didn't get through the revolving door to learn the secret of
its tricky side passage. As he reached the open angle that appeared, the door
took another quarter spin before The Shadow could enter it. Having no men to
scoop up, the door disgorged four, instead; four who came flinging through
from
the right.
They were men in blue uniforms, police of the genuine variety. They'd
come
from a passage on the right, having found this inlet when they heard the
thunder
of guns. Just short of the door, The Shadow was squarely in their path, and
the
police, glimpsing him, flung themselves on the intrepid fighter who had just
cleared the ground of actual enemies!
WITH a sweeping wheel, The Shadow cleared himself of these misguided
attackers, flinging them back into their niche. He was weaving across the
courtroom as they fired; first toward the door on the left, next to the one on
the right. He planned that zigzag anyway, but it seemed encouraged by the
things that happened at those doors.
First one door, then the other, burst inward to admit batches of
detectives, who aimed their guns blindly to join in the fire. The cops were
shouting as much as shooting, because they didn't want to hit the detectives,
and in the midst of the ineffective action, The Shadow was gone.
Gone with a laugh that reverberated throughout the room where the law had
prevailed in empty-handed style. Having won his own battle, The Shadow hoped
to
follow it up in his same inimitable fashion, without waiting to hold parley
with
the police.
To the men who stared in search of the vanished fighter, The Shadow had
performed an amazing vanish into the same thin air that was at present
absorbing the echoes of his departing mirth. Actually, he had blended into
blackness, choosing the alcove behind the platform, the route which Judge
Lawless normally used and which The Shadow had found for himself.
By that route The Shadow hoped to cut off the master fiend and his
escaping tribe, wherever they had gone.
Among the men who caught the parting tones of The Shadow's laugh was a
stocky police inspector, Joe Cardona by name, and he understood its full
significance. It was plain to Joe that Fleech and a few others who hadn't
managed to escape, represented only a portion of the band that The Shadow had
scattered. Looking about the room, Cardona saw the angle at the far end and
realized that some of the officers had come from that direction.
Heading for the niche, Cardona shoved through. Naturally, the revolving
door continued its turn to the left and as Joe beckoned, the police followed
him, surprised to learn that their lurch into the underground room had merely
left them at a stopping-off point.
As he led the chase along the passage to the left, Inspector Cardona
could
fancy that he still heard The Shadow's laugh, carrying a note of approval.
Outside, however, matters proved quite different. The Shadow had reached
a
corner near the old garage beneath which crime's headquarters was hidden. Past
that corner, he could see men darting out from a doorway climbing into cars
that were coming from the public garage. There was one way to stop this
exodus:
with bullets - so The Shadow swung in from the corner with that purpose.
Then came the surge that ruined The Shadow's tactics. Cardona and the
police had found a shorter route to the street. They were springing from the
same door that Lawless and his gang had used. Protected by a cluster of
followers, and hence immune from The Shadow's fire, Judge Lawless saw the
police sortie and rasped for his men to counteract it.
The Shadow's laugh rang out and with it, his automatics pumped a
long-range fire that brought an immediate response, not only from the killers
that Lawless had told off but from men in other cars as well. The Shadow had
picked himself a hot spot where his gun spurts, visible in the darkness, were
targets for shots from several angles.
Forced to wheel as the volley came, The Shadow whipped back around the
corner, with bullets chipping bricks from the edge of the wall above him. But
the interim was sufficient for Cardona and his men to dive back into the
opening that crooks had used for exit from the old garage.
By then the cars themselves were gone whisking around the corner into the
next street. As for following them in person, The Shadow knew it would be
futile.
The Shadow's only course now was to fade off into the night. As he went,
The Shadow saw a taxicab flash across that corner of the next block, where
crook-manned cars had turned. Sight of the cab was at least a token of a
chase.
Reaching the spot where The Shadow was no longer, Cardona and the
bluecoats with him heard the fleeting tones of a laugh that was both weird and
grim. The Shadow's laugh, telling that no matter how long or how often his
plans would be delayed, he would eventually settle scores in person with a
superfoe who styled himself Judge Lawless!
CHAPTER IV
THE BLANK TRAIL
HOW long or how far his present ride was taking him, Dave Channey didn't
know. He hadn't a watch handy to time the trip, nor was he able to check on
passing landmarks, for he was on the floor in an overcrowded car, where his
companions had thrust him. Judge Lawless wasn't in this particular car, and in
a way, Dave was glad.
Dave feared that he had definitely betrayed himself to Lawless by his
effort to stop Fleech's attack upon The Shadow. Certainly Dave's companions
weren't trusting him, the way they kept him down on the floor. Which made Dave
wonder just what would happen when he met up with the judge again. The short
shrift that Lawless had given Fleech was a most discouraging precedent for
摘要：
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JUDGELAWLESSbyMaxwellGrantAsoriginallypublishedin"TheShadowMagazine,"August15,1942.Hemadeamockeryoflawandjusticeinhiscourtroomofevil,untilTheShadowsteppedin!CHAPTERICOURTOFCRIMEITwasastrangeroom,thisundergroundplaceburiedinthefoundationsofanoldManhattangarage.Alongroom,withlowceilingandstonewalls,wh...
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分类：外语学习
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时间：2024-12-22
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