Hiram Mallory leaned his head back and smiled. He laughed gently, as though pleased. Moose Shargin had heard that laugh before. It was something that he could not understand.
Hiram Mallory had an air of habitual pleasantry. When it was most evident, the man was most dangerous. This was an enigma that had long puzzled his associates.
“What are we going to do about it?” demanded Moose.
“Make use of it,” replied Mallory, his face beaming as though he experienced great amusement. “I have been looking forward to trouble with The Shadow. I had not anticipated his interference in a simple matter, such as the killing of Thaddeus Westcott.
“Until now, The Shadow has been — well, just a shadow. This expression of interest on his part creates a new situation.”
“It means we’ve got to fight him!” declared Moose.
“Exactly!” agreed Mallory.
“Other guys have tried it—” Moose began.
“—And have failed,” completed Mallory. “Just as others have tried to cross me, and have failed.”
Moose nodded. The pleasant assurance of Hiram Mallory stifled the qualms that were besieging the pasty-faced gangster. Mallory made no further comment, so Shargin broke into his story.