The gray-haired man's face was calm and barely smiling. In his hand, Judge held the revolver with which he had fired his timely shot.
Judge had finished The Shadow!
Now the leader motioned toward the stairway. With drawn guns, the three men made their way to the room below. On the floor lay a crumpled form, with black cloak spread about it.
The slouch hat still clung to The Shadow's head. Motionless, the man of the night lay face down on the floor. Major bent over the still form. He ripped aside the top of the black cloak. The action revealed a flow of blood, coming from a wound beside the shoulder.
Major shook the slumped form, half raising it from the floor. He let The Shadow's form drop limp as he turned to his companions with a smile.
"Looks like he's dead," he announced. "Pretty close to it, anyway." Savagely, Ferret aimed his gun at the helpless body, ready to drill it with a tattoo of bullets. His wrist was caught by Judge's iron gasp.
"Stop!" warned Judge. "What do you want to do? Bring in the police? That one shot I fired was bad enough. It's lucky old Jimmy is stone-deaf. Pick up his gun, there on the steps."
Ferret turned hurriedly to gather The Shadow's two automatics.
"Frisk him, Major," ordered Judge. Major obeyed, running his hands under the black cloak. He found no other weapons. Judge turned to Ferret on the stairs.
"Get up and close that vault!" he commanded. "Tell me if you hear anything. Turn out the light and listen by the door."