Crawling lamely, he made his way to the panel, so that he could close it. There, he hesitated, listening; then peered through the opening.
Far away, he caught the glimmer of the light, and knew that whoever was in the passage was at the other end. The light from the morgue threw a long, dim ray into the nearer end of the corridor, and on the edge of that slight shaft of illumination something sparkled — barely visible, but enough to attract the attention of The Shadow's keen eyes.
A revolver! The one that he had wrested from Major, to drop later when he had fallen unconscious. The sight of the weapon brought a sparkle to The Shadow's eyes.
This grim personage ended danger by encountering it. Weak though he was, he planned that course now. He dragged himself through the panel, and lay flat in the corridor.
Butcher was coming back. The man's heavy footfalls were echoing along the passage. His light was shining in this direction. It was yards away, but coming closer.
With renewed effort, The Shadow dragged himself forward, grimly heading for that revolver, which lay so near, and yet so far.
Butcher's light revealed him. An oath resounded in the passage. The heavy footsteps quickened, and a shot rang out. Butcher was hurrying toward The Shadow, firing as he came.
The range was great. The shot went wide.
Butcher paused to fire again. This time he barely missed. The bullet struck the floor beside The Shadow's body and ricocheted against the uplifted panel.
The Shadow never faltered. Crawling onward, he dropped prone as Butcher, once more on the run, fired a third shot.