The man in black sprang to his feet. Before the menace of the automatic, Palermo stopped short. His boldness left him. He trembled as he saw The Shadow’s finger on the trigger.
Satisfied with his threat, The Shadow stepped back to the taboret. He began to stoop, still watching Palermo.
The criminal was almost gloating. The Shadow was falling into the same snare that had enmeshed Harry Vincent. In another moment The Shadow stopped just as his gaze was completely away from the bronze image. His captive had unconsciously shifted a trifle to the right. Without realizing it, Palermo had disobeyed The Shadow’s command.
Again The Shadow was on his feet, covering Palermo closely. Now he spoke.
“Palermo,” he said, “I have warned you. I shall not hesitate to end your life if you make another move!”
Palermo regretted his mistake. The opportunity would come again within a few seconds, however.
The fate of The Shadow was virtually in the hands of Chong. As soon as the man in the cloak returned to the taboret, his game would be scheduled for a sudden and unexpected conclusion.
The Shadow smiled. He looked intently at Palermo. “Perhaps”—his voice became a sinister whisper—”perhaps you consider yourself immune from bullets. Perhaps you doubt the perfection of my aim.
“Let me show you, Palermo, just what a bullet can do when it strikes an object”—the automatic was swinging slowly back and forth — “for instance, an object made of — bronze!”
The automatic barked as the finger pressed the trigger. That very instant, The Shadow’s sweeping aim had turned directly toward the glaring image of Chong, with its evil, saturnine countenance.