With shaking hands, the big dock walloper followed the instructions. The Shadow’s free hand suddenly appeared. It reached across the table and drew the bills from Big Ben’s grasp.
“You can keep the rest,” said The Shadow.
The black-clad form seemed to melt into the curtain behind it. Only a flash of eyes was visible beneath the broad-brimmed hat.
Then Cliff could see nothing but the gleaming muzzle of the automatic. Again, a low, sinister laugh came as an uncanny whisper. The Shadow was gone!
With an oath, Ernie Shires leaped to his feet. He was drawing his automatic, bent upon instant pursuit of the strange being who had appeared from nowhere.
But Big Ben was quicker than Ernie. He leaped to the doorway, caught the gangster, and thrust him back in his chair.
“Let me go!” exclaimed Ernie. “I want to get that guy—”
“Get him?” Hargins laughed sullenly. “I’m wise to your game! You can’t fool me with a gag like that!
“No wonder you held out on the dough. Durgan didn’t want you to pay it to me in his place. Not a good idea, he said. So we came somewhere else. Here — the joint you picked! Sit down!”
AS Ernie started to rise, still seeking to pursue The Shadow, Hargins thrust him back in his chair and yanked the gangster’s hand from his pocket.