The door opened. Zull thought it was Crowell returning.
“I told you to stay out a while,” he said, gruffly.
There was no reply. Zull looked up. He was staring into the muzzle of an automatic.
It was held by a man in a black cloak — a man whose face was hidden by a low-turned slouch hat.
“The Shadow!”
A WHISPERED laugh came in response to Zull’s exclamation. The acting inspector had heard that laugh before. Sullenly, he raised his hands.
“Tonight,” came The Shadow’s whisper, “you pay the penalty.”
“For what?”
“For your crimes.”
Zull stared, brutally sullen.