“Tell us about The Shadow,” he said.
“Nobody knows much about him,” replied Monk Thurman. “They don’t know what he is, nor why he works the way he does. But when anybody tries to battle with him, they get the worst of it. Sometimes they get bumped off. Sometimes the cops get them.”
“He works for the police?”
“No. He’s not a dick. He’s more like a crook. Works at night, and plays a lone hand. He has men who tip him off to what’s going on. Sometimes they get into trouble, but The Shadow always pulls them out of it.
“They say The Shadow is the fellow who got Bert Farley. There was a smart guy in New York called Isaac Coffran. Smart as they made them; but that old duck cleared out all of a sudden, and they claim The Shadow was in back of it.
“Then there was Birdie Crull. He was bumped off by a secret-service man, and they say The Shadow was mixed up in that.”
“Yet you say he is not with the police?”
“Not a bit of it. He dodges the cops himself, sometimes. He may be a crook for all I know, because he seems to have all the money he wants. Yet they’ve never hung anything on him.
“All they’ve got is one fact — that he likes to make trouble for any one that’s pulling something on the cops. Nobody knows The Shadow’s game. Whenever they see him, he’s wearing a black cloak and a black hat.”
“The way he was last night!” blurted Borrango. The enforcer became silent when Nick Savoli made a gesture. The big shot was intensely interested in Monk’s description.