"That block you built," he said. "The block arranged to house Middletown's banks — with a passage underneath it to the undertaking establishment. It served your Chameleons well.
"One — this man who calls himself Judge — had no criminal record. He was here, and prosperous. He knew the banking business. He was familiar with the vault in the National Bank, as well as the one in his own bank.
"His campaign began with the bleeding of the other bank. Thousands of dollars were removed — taken from the County National Bank, and stowed in the vault of the Trust Company. Two murders proved necessary. Wellington was killed. Hubert Salisbury was framed. Roland Delmar's death was made to appear a suicide. The run began. The National Bank failed.
"Then into the coffers of your controlled bank poured all the resources of this territory. For every dollar of good paper money, your Chameleons had a dollar of the queer. Bad money for good.
"The vault of the Middletown Trust Company holds more cash than its books show. But none of the money is real. The millions pilfered from the public lies in those boxes — ready for a shipment that will never take place!"
Bronlon groaned. The others were silent.
"Your payrolls, Bronlon; the bonus you gave — all in counterfeit notes. Money — cash — drawn into Middletown; that you and your fellow crooks might reap a mighty harvest!" The Shadow paused. A laugh again echoed from his lips. He spoke now, slowly and emphatically.
"I trust that I have not wearied you" — his tones were cold and ironical — "for the knowledge that I possess is no news to you. I have been forced to pass a little while with you here. We are waiting — waiting for the officers whom I have summoned to this place!"
The voice of The Shadow was dragging. His efforts had been great tonight. He was still a wounded man. A feeling of dizziness was coming over him. His body swayed and almost toppled. Judge — keen in the face of danger — realized the reason. This was his chance. Like a tiger, he sprang forward to attack The Shadow.
The sudden thrust brought back The Shadow's fading strength. He raised his right arm as Judge fell upon him. The revolver barked. Judge's body rolled upon its back. The Shadow's shot had reached his heart. Bronlon leaped forward. Critz joined him. Deacon was drawing his revolver. Had Bronlon and his henchman not made their wild attack, Deacon could have shot The Shadow. But now The Shadow was beneath his enemies. His revolver fired muffled shots.