Pain and fear were overcoming Gunner Macklin’s rage. Now his one thought was of flight. Flight from The Shadow’s vengeance, from the patrol bearing down upon his car.
Steering with his one useful hand, Macklin drove like a madman. A taxicab shot in front of him at the corner. Macklin made a valiant effort to swerve his car, but his one hand lacked the necessary strength.
The cab veered away as the fast-moving automobile hit the curb and plunged against the side of a building. Macklin was thrown against the windshield. The police found him unconscious.
HALF an hour later, Gunner Macklin opened his eyes in the emergency ward of the Uptown Hospital.
The first face that he saw was that of Detective Steve Lang. The police officer’s expression was tinged with sarcasm.
“So,” he said ironically. “Gunner Macklin, eh? Playing around with Louie Seligman, the safecracker.
“We got the goods on you this time, Gunner. We got Louie where we want him. He’s just about ready to squeal, too. Whatta you got to say for yourself?”
“Nothing,” retorted Macklin grimly.
“They say you’re going to pass out, Gunner,” returned the detective. “Better give us the lay before you go.”
Gunner Macklin closed his eyes. Steve Lang turned away in disgust. It was not the first time that he had tried to make a gangster talk, without success. As he faced the door, Lang’s face brightened with joy.