The street was thronged with people. Suddenly a man came in from the left and stood with his back toward the street. He was looking in Brantwell’s window. He was very small, for the picture covered a long area.
The hand wrote again.
Steve Marschik. Burke interrupted him in the lobby. He received the phone message in the cigar store downstairs. He followed Marschik. The man knows nothing. He was probably paid and instructed from a secret source.
Another man detached himself from the throng. He stood beside Marschik. He drew his hand from his coat pocket and moved close to Marschik, evidently to deposit an article in the other man’s pocket. Again the hand of The Shadow wrote.
Identity unknown. Burbank was watching from a downstairs office. He received the call and followed. The man eluded him. Burbank believes he took a train at the Pennsylvania Station. Where he has gone is immaterial. Where he came from is important.
The man had walked from the picture, and the reel came to a sudden end while The Shadow was still writing. So far the picture had shown nothing that had not been observed by Lamont Cranston from Griscom’s window.
Now came a strange action. The projector was operating again — slowly — and the reel was running backward!
THE unknown man backed into the picture. He stood beside Marschik, while the throngs moved in the wrong direction — automobiles backing toward Times Square — the whole scene a curious medley!
The important man backed away from Marschik now. He threaded his way curiously through the crowd, as though his eyes were in the back of his head. He reached the corner and walked back through traffic.
An automobile was waiting there. The man’s feet seemed to step upward and rearward. He moved into the open door of the car. The door closed.