“THERE isn’t much to it,” he said. “When I got the tip-off from Bob Maddox, I took the gang out to Long Island and laid for Westcott’s car. Picked a great spot, too.
“The chauffeur fell for the phony cop idea. He stopped. The boys yanked open the door. Westcott wasn’t there, but The Shadow was. He gave ‘em the works.
“The chauffeur got away, and The Shadow with him.”
“Where were you?” queried Mallory.
“In my car. Laying back. I couldn’t shoot while the boys were in the way. I fired after the limousine when it started down the road, but I was too late to stop it.”
“The Shadow,” mused Hiram Mallory. “I told you he was likely to appear.
“He was in the game early, but he didn’t find anything. Killing Harkness brought him back. He did something unusual then. Ran in with the police.”
“He did? How?”
Mallory smiled cryptically. It was his sign that a question was unwise. But as an afterthought, he became indulgent.
“The Shadow,” he said, “made an attack upon Inspector Zull, hoping, evidently, to obtain some evidence of who killed Richard Harkness.”