How he had obtained the jewel from Harriman, no one knew. The possibility that Horace Chatham might have owned it in between was completely overlooked.
Certain securities belonging to Roger Crowthers, deceased millionaire, were returned to the estate. The name of Doctor Palermo was not linked to them.
But it was definitely proven, through evidence submitted anonymously to the police, that Doctor Palermo had been outlawed as a practicing physician in a Western State. The man had possessed considerable medical knowledge; that was admitted. But, professionally, he was branded as a charlatan.
In all this mass of news, no mention was made of The Shadow; nor were the names of Harry Vincent and Clyde Burke seen in print.
No newspaper — not even the wild tabloids — discovered that an autogiro had made a night landing on the roof outside of Palermo’s penthouse.
The absence of these facts was amusing. Harry Vincent laughed about it as he perused the newspapers in his room at the Metrolite Hotel. Clyde Burke smiled as he cut out clippings in his new downtown office.
They talked about it together, one day at lunch.
“A wonderful story,” said Clyde, his reporting instinct coming to the surface. “Yet no one knows about it except us—”
Harry Vincent smiled. He supplied the finish of the sentence, in these three cryptic words:
“The Shadow knows!”