The violet rays disappeared. The table light came on. The hand wrote.
A Turkish blend, smoked by few. There is no room for doubt. A comparison of foot-impressions in the office and in Durgan’s apartment would be unnecessary. The identity of the murderer is established. Killer Durgan.
The paper was crumpled. The black-light machine was detached and packed away. The hand wrote again, beneath the glare of the lamp.
Killer Durgan is in the theater racket. He has moved to cover. He is at headquarters. That spot must be discovered.
There was another click in the darkness. A long ray of white light streamed across the room, forming a luminous spot on a white screen.
The Shadow was alone in the private preview room of the Paladrome Theater!
The mechanism of a motion-picture camera began to operate. It could not be heard elsewhere, for the room was virtually soundproof.
In fact, the room, with its expensive equipment, had been triple-locked; yet The Shadow had entered!
A reel was showing on the screen. The Shadow was watching it from the darkness. His hand was still beneath the table lamp, with pencil poised to make notations.
On came the scene that showed Times Square in the distance; the picture which had been taken by Bud Sherman from the window of Howard Griscom’s office.