“Maybe I was lucky because I never mixed it with him. Maybe he was lucky. But I was playing a lone game then. Now it’s different. Let him try his stuff with me! I’ll be ready for him!
“You’re right, Shires. If The Shadow put the skids under one racket, he’ll try it with another! But it’s a new game for him!”
THE seriousness of Killer Durgan’s tone startled Ernie Shires. The gangster sat motionless in his chair as he listened to Durgan’s words.
He began to realize that The Shadow would prove to be a formidable foe. The recollections of the previous night — the sighing of the silenced gun — the black fighter in the dark — the mocking laugh that echoed from the sidewalks — all came back in vivid reality.
Despite the calm demeanor of his hardened face, Ernie Shires was uneasy!
“There’s one place where trouble will begin” — Durgan was speaking thoughtfully — “and that’s in the Bronx, where we’re lining them up right now! That’s where The Shadow will hit — if he tries to crack my racket!
“That’s where you’re going to be, Ernie! Get up there tonight and lay low. Call me to-morrow at noon. I’ll tell you what to do!”
He looked at Shires, still seriously. Then his wolfish leer reappeared.
Killer Durgan was again the evil-faced racketeer, whose countenance suited his bloody reputation.
“You’re working for me, Ernie Shires!” he snarled. “That means you do what you’re told! Understand? One grand a week — it’s yours! That means my work — all the time!