“Lay low a minute, Clipper,” was his warning. “Maybe somebody’s followed us.”
He knew that even if The Shadow were lurking in the darkness, vigilant observation would be of no avail.
The Shadow had a strange ability for remaining unseen, even when persons were looking at the very spot where he might chance to be.
Clipper Tobin heeded the warning. Crouched by the black side of the apartment house, he listened, while his shrewd eyes sought to pierce the shroud of night that hung throughout the narrow alley.
“Nobody around,” he whispered. “Come on!”
They moved cautiously to the fire tower. Up the steps they went, silently and slowly. They reached the fourth floor. Clipper opened a steel door gently and peered into a lighted corridor. He waved Cliff along.
The corridor turned; Clipper pointed along the branch that led to the front of the building.
There was only one door visible — at the end of the passage. Cliff knew that it must be Bodine’s apartment. The number was plain as they approached— 458.
A KEY appeared in Clipper’s hand. Cliff decided that it must have been provided by the informant who had discovered Bodine’s hideout— the traitor who had revealed the name under which the celebrated big shot lived in this abode.
With expert touch, Clipper inserted the key in the lock. He opened the door softly. The men stood in a little hallway, with a door on each side.