To Joe Cardona, The Shadow was a most important personage — a living being who fought with crime, but who had always managed to mask his identity.
Often, during his career, Cardona had been aided by both information and action which had come from an unknown source. The similarity of these instances had convinced him that one man was back of them all.
So far, the detective’s theory had not been seriously questioned at headquarters. Now, the new police commissioner had delivered a bombshell, and Cardona was at loss.
“You say that you deal in facts,” came Weston’s voice. “Therefore, you should form your conclusions upon facts.
“So far as The Shadow is concerned, your only identification is that he is a man dressed in black, who appears and vanishes in a most fantastic fashion!”
“That proves that he is real,” declared Cardona.
“It proves nothing of the sort!” responded Weston. “Suppose, Cardona, that you had come into this office and found me sitting at this desk, wearing a black cloak and a black hat. In accordance with your past policy, you could have gone back to headquarters to report that you had seen The Shadow here. Actually, you would have seen me — with my identity hidden — not even disguised.”
“But the crooks know that The Shadow is real!” protested Cardona. “I’ve heard dying men call out his name. I’ve heard others testify—”
Weston held up his hand, and the detective ended his excited statement.
“What does that prove?” questioned the commissioner smoothly. “It shows one of two things: Either that certain criminals have been deceived as easily as you, or else that those crooks have taken advantage of your weakness, and have deceived you.