One pointed to the dim, projecting roof above. There were windows in the walls. A supple man could reach the roof by that route.
“Sneak out to the street,” said one. “See that it’s all O.K. Then back here again. We’re going up.”
The man’s companion growled in assent.
While the first man waited, the other crowded his way between the walls and made a brief inspection. The gangster in the little court was peering through the crevice, and his shape was dimly visible in the light that filtered from the street.
A head peered downward from the room above. A lithe form slipped softly over the projecting edge. Sure feet found the ledge of a window.
The Shadow clung to the walls of the second floor. Doubling his body, he prepared to continue the descent. His hidden eyes watched the man below.
Something prompted the gangster to gaze upward. His startled eyes spotted the form crouched by the window. Before an exclamation could escape the gangster’s lips, the clinging, batlike form had loosened from its hold.
It shot through the air — a flight of almost ten feet downward and landed squarely upon the surprised gangster. The waiting man could not avoid the precipitated attack.
It was the gangster who bore the brunt of The Shadow’s leap. He was flattened beneath the swift-moving body.
He collapsed as his head beat against the stone paving of the court. He lay insensible.