“His name is Rufus Cruikshank!”
The wild cry came from Herbert Carpenter. Unable to restrain himself, the convicted blackmailer leaped forward in a frenzy. Cruikshank, who had advanced to within a few feet, went down beneath the attack.
Police Chief Yates was on his feet, ready to shoot. He held his fire for fear of killing the mayor, who was rolling on the floor in Carpenter’s grasp. The fighting convict was shouting words of condemnation.
“Wheels Bryant!” he cried. “The big shot! A double-crosser!”
Men were leaping to the rescue. Cruikshank, momentarily free, smashed his fist squarely against Carpenter’s chin. The accuser collapsed and was gathered up by angry hands. Police Chief Yates stood above his body with leveled automatic. Cruikshank, striving to regain his composure, glared about him.
He did not see Graham Hurley. The hotel proprietor, a look of real understanding on his face, had made his way to the wall. He was plugging the radio wire back into the socket.
“This man is a rogue” — Cruikshank was indicating Carpenter. “You are right — a crook is always a crook—”
A voice interrupted — the voice of The Shadow!
“Listen well” — the sinister, accusing tones were beginning where they had left off — “listen well, while I speak his name—”
Cruikshank, his face distorted with rage, was plunging toward the wall. But before he could again reach the radio, the dread voice of The Shadow had made its final utterance.