In that one moment of hesitation, The Shadow acted. Crouched against the wall, Howard Griscom stared in amazement. Instead of firing his automatic, The Shadow hurled himself into the midst of the mob!
Then came shots. They were fired by the gangsters; but not a bullet reached its mark.
Hands that held guns were struck upward. A gangster was thrown headlong against the wall. Another staggered from a blow and fell. One man seized The Shadow. Together they rolled upon the floor.
The last gunman was waiting eagerly, to fire the death shot without hitting his companion. But even as his finger pressed the trigger, a shot came from the floor.
The Shadow’s gun had spoken, with its perfect aim! The eager gangster slumped. Griscom saw a black-clad arm rise. The butt of The Shadow’s gun struck the head of the man who was battling with him.
The last of the gangsters lay motionless.
The man in black rose to his feet. He moved swiftly along the hallway, motioning silently to Griscom. They left by a side door.
Outside, a car was awaiting them. As they rolled along the street, policemen shot by on motor cycles. They were rushing to the scene of the firing.
Griscom stared from the window of the car as they passed. What would the police find? Gangsters — crippled or dead — the bodies of two evil men in a gas-filled room!
The car had stopped to let a patrol wagon go by. Griscom watched the police vehicle; then he turned to speak to The Shadow. He received no reply. He turned on the dome light.