A CRY came from Crowley as he placed his hand upon the knob. He was staggered by a powerful electric shock. He fell forward, the automatic dropping from his grasp.
Before Wilberton could seize the weapon, The Shadow’s arms were outstretched. Each gloved hand held an automatic.
Crowley had risen to his knees. His hands were above his head. Wilberton’s hands were also raised.
“Come,” said The Shadow to Griscom. The man in black went to the door. His gloved hand turned the knob. This time there was no shock. The door opened.
Howard Griscom stepped through the doorway. The Shadow remained in the room, his automatics covering the occupants. He smiled slightly. Then he, too, stepped swiftly out. The door closed behind him.
In the hallway, he detached a wire from the outside door knob and disconnected the other end from a floor plug. Then The Shadow’s hand darted into his cloak. When it emerged, a pistol shot blazed in the darkness. With one bullet the lock on the door had been jammed.
Even with a key, Wilberton and Crowley would not be able to escape the doom that they deserved.
But with that shot came a surprise attack. A door of a side room opened. The Shadow stood revealed in the light — a tall, black figure.
Four gangsters were there — Wilberton’s trusted bodyguards, murderers all!
It was an instant before they understood the presence of the man in black. These men of Wilberton’s own murder squad were kept by him for emergencies. They had come at the sound of the shot; but they had not known of The Shadow’s presence.