From her sprawl, Margo saw a sight that really dazed her. As The Shadow lunged toward the embankment, the stooped man who had thrown the knife made another of his unlimbering motions, but with a complete turnabout. It seemed that he literally scooped himself from The Shadow’s grasp and vanished into the darkness above the transverse which at that moment, fortunately for the fugitive, was devoid of passing cars and their tell-tale lights.
It was The Shadow’s voice that hissed the warning that Margo heeded. Scrambling up past the rocks, the girl found a driveway and ran along it toward where she knew a cab was waiting for Cranston. Finding the cab, Margo popped into it and felt safe at last, for she knew the driver. His name was Shrevvy and his cab was always at Cranston’s service, especially on nights like this.
Five minutes later, Cranston arrived back at the cab to report that the police hunt was still under way and accomplishing nothing. In fact, Cranston seemed rather bored with the whole business until the cab had rolled from Central Park and was swinging along a lighted avenue.
Then, turning to Margo, Cranston queried:
“Remember that mysterious apport business over at Madame Mathilda’s?”
“Of course.” Margo found her voice with a forced laugh. “You mean the sprig of lilac that they found there. But there was plenty more lilac out in the park.”
“And that was only half of it,” reminded Cranston. “There was a dagger that landed on the floor of the seance room. There seems to be plenty more of such out in the park too. I found this as a sample.”
In the light of the passing street lamps, Cranston exhibited the object which Margo realized was the whirring thing that had sped past her and planted itself in the trunk of a tree.
Glistening in Cranston’s hand was the exact twin of the dirk that had arrived so mysteriously in Madame Mathilda’s parlor!