One trickling ray of light showed The Shadow, in his grimy sweater, leaning over the unconscious gangster.
The thud of the impact was the only noise that had occurred. It was not heard by the man who was returning through the crevice.
Arriving at the courtyard, the second gangster spoke to the vague shape that he saw there.
“O.K.,” were his words. “Let’s get goin’ up. We’ll get—”
At that instant, the man’s feet stumbled against the form of his laid-out companion. Instinctively, the gangster looked downward.
“What’s this—”
His head came up in sudden understanding. Before his gun hand could rise, The Shadow’s revolver gleamed in the trickle of light.
The handle of the weapon landed flat against the gangster’s head, behind the ear. The crook collapsed beside the form of his insensible companion.
SOFTLY, The Shadow wedged his way toward the street. He stopped as he neared the sidewalk and waited. Faltering footsteps were echoing on the paving beside the curb.
A man, staggering, was trying to run away. His strength was giving out. Ten feet from the opening where the gangster stood, the man tumbled headlong.