When he had entered the bedroom, he had been attacked in the dark. He had pursued a man, and had caught but a few meager glimpses of him.
The Shadow was elusive, Cardona knew, but The Shadow did not often resort to flight.
Doggedly, Cardona began a search of the premises in hopes of uncovering some new clew. The task was a vain one. He had sought to capture an expected burglar.
He had succeeded in effecting such a capture, but it failed to explain the mystery. The man on the floor of Silas Harshaw’s study could never tell whatever he might have known.
A third death. Was this one, too, intended? That was a riddle that perplexed Joe Cardona as he looked down at the face of the dead man.
CHAPTER VII
DEATH CONTINUES
IT was nine o’clock in the morning when Detective Joe Cardona left Silas Harshaw’s apartment. It was exactly twenty-four hours afterward when he appeared in Commissioner Weston’s office to discuss the only new development that might be a clew.
This was a third note, which Cardona had brought with him from headquarters.
The detective nodded grimly to both Weston and Biscayne, who was present. Without a word, he laid the letter on the table, so the other men could see it. It was in the same form of typing. It read: