Grant, Maxwell - The.Cobra

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The Cobra

THE COBRA

As originally published in “The Shadow Magazine,” April 1, 1934

The famed might of The Shadow

seemed to be on the wane, giving way

to a new and more destructive warrior -

The Cobra!

CHAPTER I

THE CRIME TRAIL

FOGGY darkness swirled beneath

the superstructure of the East Side

elevated. Dim lights, glowing through

the murk, showed the dingy fronts of

dilapidated buildings. Shifty, skulking

figures shambled along the street. A

bluecoat, twirling his club, watched

them idly from the corner; then re-

sumed his beat.

This was a bad spot on the fringe of

the underworld. The officers who pa-

trolled this section of Manhattan were

chosen members of the force. Always

on the lookout for the paths of crooks,

they kept a wary check of sullen faces

and sly, stoop-shouldered prowlers.

Less than one minute after the pa-

trolman had continued on his beat, a

man stepped forward from the cover of

the elevated steps. Well-dressed, but

inconspicuous in his dark suit, he was

of better appearance than the usual

denizens of this district. Like the

bluecoat, he watched with wary eye.

A taxicab rolled slowly by. The man

by the steps noted it with a sidelong

glance. He saw a gray-haired man of

middle age peering keenly from the

window, as though engaged in study

of the district. The cab rolled on. The

man by the steps lighted a cigarette.

The flicker of the match revealed his

face. It was a hardened countenance,

with curling, ugly lips. A long scar

showed from chin to cheek. That scar

was buried by the hand that held the

match.

As he flicked the match away, the

man by the elevated steps used his

other hand to draw the collar of his coat

across the telltale scar. His action

by Maxwell Grant

The Cobra

showed further effort to hide the mark.

With head hunched slightly to the

side, the man squinted up and down

the street, then moved along by the

curb with an easy, swinging gait.

There was method in his wariness.

This man was known in the under-

world. “Deek” Hundell, leader of the

toughest hold-up crew in Manhattan,

was a person whom any lurker in the

badlands could have spotted instantly

by his familiar scar.

THE strolling patrolman had missed

an opportunity tonight. Standing

openly at the corner, he had been spot-

ted by Deek Hundell. The hold-up ex-

pert had waited for the policeman to

depart; and there had been method in

his waiting. Deek Hundell was wanted

for murder.

A disdainful smile showed on Deek’s

ugly lips as the crook passed the front

of a lighted shop. Deek had dodged flat-

feet before. Cops did not worry him. His

caution now was for the benefit of

chance passers.

Among the slouchers on this gloomy

street, Deek knew that he might en-

counter enemies who would betray

him. These were the stool pigeons, the

spies of the police.

Deek Hundell turned to peer at a dis-

The Cobra strikes!

The Cobra

play of cheap suitcases in a pawn shop

window. His hand, rising to pluck the

cigarette from his lips, remained there,

adding its hiding palm to cover the

scar.

A ragged, stoop-shouldered prowler

was shambling from the fog. Moving

close to the window, Deek caught the

reflection of a pasty face. The passing

man was going straight ahead. Deek

waited.

More footsteps. Two foreigners, jab-

bering in their own tongue, moved past

the standing crook. Then came an old

woman, carrying a basket on her arm.

Footsteps died along the sidewalk. Deek

turned and resumed his course.

Twenty paces brought the gang

leader to the entrance of an alleyway.

Here, with head still hunched, Deek

gazed in both directions and flicked his

cigarette to the gutter. Satisfied that

no one was watching, he moved into

the darkness. A muttered laugh came

from his lips.

Deek Hundell had passed the cross-

roads of the underworld. From now on,

his course would be untraceable. On

this visit to the badlands, the notori-

ous crook had taken no chances. His

laugh was one of surety.

Silence dominated the street by the

elevated. The swirling, chilly fog

seemed to creep about the iron pillars

like a living monster. A thickened spot

of darkish mist spread slowly away

from the shelter of a pillar directly op-

posite the alleyway that Deek Hundell

had taken.

BLACKNESS remained, but in the

blackness glowed two spots that shone

like coals of fire. Metamorphosing from

the mist, they showed as living eyes,

poised in an inky background.

Then blackness moved; a tall, un-

canny shape stepped forward from the

elevated post. The owner of those glis-

tening eyes had manifested himself.

A spectral being clad entirely in black

- a form shrouded by the folds of a

sable-hued cloak; above the eyes, the

brim of a dark slouch hat.

The strange figure paused momen-

tarily, while the piercing eyes studied

the course that Deek Hundell had

taken. Then, with a quick swish of the

cloak, this watcher crossed the sidewalk

and merged with the darkness of the

alleyway.

Deek Hundell had congratulated

himself too soon. Convinced that he

had reached the alleyway unnoticed,

the crook was continuing his course

with no fear of pursuit. He did not

know that his trail had been taken by

the most vigilant tracker who had ever

entered the badlands - The Shadow!

A creature of the darkness, a phan-

tom being whose guise of black ren-

dered him invisible to the sharpest

eyes, The Shadow was on the trail of

impending crime. He had picked up the

course of Deek Hundell and he was

following it to a certain objective.

There could be but one reason for

Deek’s appearance in the underworld.

Wanted for murder, the gang leader

had chosen other spots until tonight.

His arrival here was a sure indication

The Cobra

of a rendezvous between Deek Hundell

and his gangster henchmen.

Motion in darkness; such was the

only indication of The Shadow’s pres-

ence. The swish of the black cloak

sounded faintly as the master trailer

moved through the alleyway and took

a turn into a passage between two

houses. He could not see his quarry up

ahead, for Deek was moving cautiously

through the gloom; yet The Shadow

followed the slight sounds of the gang

leader’s footsteps.

When the mobster trailer reached the

end of the passage between the houses,

his keen eyes peered across a narrow,

gloomy street. They spied Deek

Hundell entering the battered doorway

of an old brick house, where only dark-

ened windows showed.

A weird specter, The Shadow crossed

the narrow street and reached the

darkened doorway. The opening of the

barrier seemed imperceptible. The

black figure entered. The Shadow

stood in a narrow, gloomy hallway

which terminated in a fight of rickety

stairs. A gas jet, its flame turned low,

furnished the only illumination.

Slowly, The Shadow advanced. His

gliding progress ended at a door on the

right of the hall. A creeping hand,

gloved in black came from the folds of

The Shadow’s cloak. It turned the knob

of the door. Keen eyes peered through

the narrow crevice.

THE COBRA! Who, or

what, is this new avenger

on the horizon of the un-

derworld? What purpose

is behind this new threat

which lops off the heads

of gangdom with more

daring, more success

than even The Shadow?

Small-fry gangsters

quaked at the mention of

The Shadow, but the Big

Shots felt that they couild

outsmart the main in

black. But The Cobra?

The leaders of gangdom

left the city in tremen-

dous hurry. Those who

stayed met their end.

The small fry, wondering,

felt themselves secure.

Even The Shadow, him-

self, was outsmarted!

Where The Shadow came

to thwart crime, he met

The Cobra who had al-

ready served Justice!

Here, at last, was some

one who would supersede

The Shadow. And he, too,

fought on the side of the

law. He served those who

sought to bring an end to

crime.

There was room for but

one avenger. The Cobra

or The Shadow? Which

would it be?

The Cobra

BEYOND was a small flight of stairs;

then a stone-walled room where a few

dozen men were seated about at tables;

bottles and glasses were set before

them.

The Shadow knew this place; it was

a sordid dive of the underworld where

lesser mobsters were wont to meet. The

entrance was opposite the door through

which The Shadow peered. It opened

on a side alley that led from the front

street.

Deek Hundell was not in the under-

ground den. The door closed silently. A

soft, whispered laugh sounded in the

gloomy hall. Its echoes clung there as

The Shadow turned to the stairs and

ascended. The steps terminated in the

center of a second-story hall.

Like the one below, this hall was

lighted by a flickering gas jet. At the

rear was another flight of stairs that

led down to the back of the building.

The front of the hall terminated in a

door.

The Shadow turned in that direction.

He passed two doors on the right; just

beyond the second one, he paused to

listen. A muffled, growling voice was

sounding from the room beyond the

barrier.

Swiftly, The Shadow continued to the

end of the hallway. His hand turned

the knob of the door at the end. The

door was locked. Muffled clicks sounded

as The Shadow applied an instrument

of steel. The lock gave. The door opened

and The Shadow entered the front

room.

Dark, deserted and illy furnished, this

room extended to the right - a fact

which The Shadow had anticipated by

his study of the building itself. To the

right was a connecting doorway that

led to the room where the voice had

sounded.

The Shadow reached the interven-

ing barrier and applied the pick. This

time, there was not the slightest sound

of the yielding lock. The knob turned

noiselessly; the door opened inch by

inch until a narrow slit was formed.

Silent and motionless, his hand still on

the knob, The Shadow gazed into the

room beyond.

Five men were seated about a bro-

ken-down table. Their evil, sordid faces

marked them as desperadoes of the

badlands. Their eyes were turned upon

an individual who sat facing the door-

way to the hall. In the illumination of

the gas-lit room, that man’s features

were plain.

Deek Hundell.

Glinting eyes and snarling lips; a scar

that ran an ugly, jagged line from chin

to cheek - this was the quarry that The

Shadow sought. Deek Hundell, mur-

derer, had reached his destination in

the underworld. Joined by his squad

of killers, he was building new schemes

for crime.

The eyes of minions were on the gang

leader. Attentive ears were drinking in

Deek’s growled words. Gloating faces

showed eagerness for evil deeds that

lay ahead. Little did these crooks real-

ize that another listener was present;

that eyes keener than their own were

watching the sordid countenance of

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1TheCobraTHECOBRAAsoriginallypublishedinTheShadowMagazine,April1,1934ThefamedmightofTheShadowseemedtobeonthewane,givingwaytoanewandmoredestructivewarrior-TheCobra!CHAPTERITHECRIMETRAILFOGGYdarknessswirledbeneaththesuperstructureoftheEastSideelevated.Dimlights,glowingthroughthemurk,showedthedingyfr...

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Grant, Maxwell - The.Cobra

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