THE SHADOW’S hand reached forth to grasp the projecting letter. It was an instant too late. The mechanism of the clockwork whirred.
A sharp click, and the letter dropped into the slit below. It was on its way from its hidden source, off through a narrow opening that led into the mail chute to the hotel letter box!
As the envelope traveled free, another missive moved down to take its place. Like the first, this was held by two small clips that pressed against the upper end.
These were the devices that had made those tiny marks which Detective Joe Cardona had not noticed!
The Shadow ignored the new letter. One had just gone out on schedule — forty-eight hours after the note that had proclaimed the death of Thomas Sutton.
The next one had two days to wait. It was not urgent now.
The baseboard moved down; the bit of flooring came up. The hidden cache was closed. No longer did The Shadow’s flashlight twinkle.
Death was stalking tonight. Another victim was marked for oblivion. The Shadow alone knew his identity!
Out of the apartment went The Shadow. Back, past the mail chute, to the elevator shaft. He crept between the doors as he opened them.
He must wait for the car to ascend. It meant delay, but a dash down the stairs might involve more serious consequences.