With a final effort, Zachary Mitchell reached for the telephone. He could do no more than push the instrument from the table. The receiver came off the hook as the telephone fell to the floor.
The old man lay prone, gurgling incoherently into the mouthpiece of the telephone. Then, he lay still.
The door of the room opened an instant later. Into the apartment strode a tall man in a black cloak, his features hidden by the brim of a slouch hat.
The keen eyes, peering from their shelter, saw everything. The man in black leaned over the body of Zachary Mitchell. The old lawyer was dead.
The Shadow had arrived — too late!
CHAPTER XXI
SPOILS TO THE VICTORS
IT was twenty minutes past five o’clock the following afternoon. The day was gloomy; overhanging clouds had brought on a premature evening. Lights were twinkling in the busy streets.
The upper stories of the mammoth Royal Building showed glimmering windows, which were steadily diminishing in number.
From the portals of the mighty skyscraper, the home-going throng of workers was pouring into the traffic-jammed thoroughfare.