THE others leaped toward the door, just as a gray-coated figure flashed from view. Shots followed; but they were wide.
Then did the detectives realize the ruse. The Shadow — with incredible speed — had donned Warwick’s coat and had enveloped the detective in the black cloak. He had even clipped handcuffs on Warwick’s wrists!
“Get him!” came the cry from the top of the stairs.
A man stationed at the front door heard the shout. He was bewildered for an instant as he saw the form of Stanley Warwick approaching him. Then he realized that the oncoming man was taller than his chief.
Before he could act, the detective fell beneath a sweeping punch. The front door opened. The escaping prisoner stepped forth, deliberately closing the door behind him.
The lights of the street did not betray his false identity. The Shadow had not assumed the features of Stanley Warwick but his pose was a perfect imitation of the detective.
With his head turned down, he glanced swiftly in both directions. He waved his thumb over his shoulder, and issued a command in Warwick’s customary tones.
“Inside men,” he ordered. “Make it snappy! We’ve got our man!”
Two detectives came from the front of the building. The man with the gray hat stepped to the sidewalk as they dashed up the steps. The front door opened before their arrival. Two men in plain clothes burst forth.
“There he goes!” cried one, indicating the man with the gray coat and hat, who was moving swiftly along the street.