“Do you think I’m a sap like Tim Waldron? Do you think a bunch of dicks could mooch around here and find anything? There ain’t no leaks in my racket!
“You’ve heard of the Public Garage Owners’ Association. Well, I’m it! They all pay in the dough. You know it — but try to prove it. Why? Because I’m a garage owner myself!
“Garages? I’ve got three of them! I pay big dough to my own collector! I’m in the garage business! What do you think of that?”
Ernie Shires grinned admiringly.
“But I’m not taking chances!” continued Durgan. “No chances! I’m not Killer Durgan, right now. I’m Francis J. Durgan, head of the New Era Garage Corporation. My dough comes from a legitimate business — so they think.
“Remember that guy that was in here? Mike Wharton? He manages a garage for me! He’s no racketeer!”
Durgan sat down and stared at Shires. The racketeer’s face had lost its leer. It was grimly serious.
“Coppers — politicians” — Durgan was speaking slowly — “they’re all mine! I’m not afraid of any guy that packs a rod! If any one tries to muscle in on my racket, he’ll find out why they called me Killer Durgan!
“But there’s one guy — only one — that’s different from the rest. I know, because I’ve seen what he can do. That’s The Shadow!
“There’s a lot of guys in stir, because of his doings. They know who he is up at the Big House — but they don’t talk about him. There’s a lot of smart guys that are six feet under, right now, because they crossed The Shadow.