Mike Borrango stepped forward a few paces; then returned to the bookcase and adopted the attitude of indifference assumed by his chief.
Steve Cronin moistened his lips. He realized that he had made an impression, and he intended to increase it.
“There’s only one man who could have done what that fellow did,” he said; “only one man who would have acted the way he did. I know — because I met him once before. Maybe you have heard of him; maybe you haven’t. But I know he is real — because I have seen him.”
The gangster paused, and continued his quick, alert glancing from Savoli to Borrango.”
“Who is this man?” questioned the enforcer.
“I don’t know what his real name is,” replied Cronin. “But I know what they call him. That man in the car last night was The Shadow!”
“The Shadow?” questioned Savoli. “Who is he?”
Mike Borrango stroked his chin. He looked at Cronin intently. Then he nodded slowly as he turned to Savoli.
“I have heard of The Shadow,” he said. “They talk about him in New York. No one knows who he is, or what he is. Cronin, here, says The Shadow is real. I have heard that he is just a fake — a bluff. Yellow squealers use his name as an excuse.”
THE tone adopted by the enforcer was different from his usual suavity. The real Mike Borrango had revealed himself. But he had done so with a purpose: namely, to arouse Steve Cronin to anger.