In a single second he had changed his identity. He had covered himself with the cloak and hat which lay beside the box. Like a flash he was behind a post; next he was on the stairs, moving toward the floor above.
The Federal agent’s shots were wide. But as the fleeing form in black reached the head of the stairs, it encountered two men who were hurrying to the cellar. They were the expected reenforcements.
The new arrivals were ready for the situation. Their automatics were in their hands; but the closeness of the being in black did not allow them time to use them. Instead, they leaped as one upon the tall figure as it encountered them.
The result was surprising.
One of the agents crumpled beneath a terrific blow that struck him. His nerveless fingers lost their hold upon the automatic, and he sank helpless to the floor.
The other grappled with his antagonist; but the wiry figure in black broke his hold, and the man went tumbling down the cellar stairs.
A cry escaped his lips. It was heard by others. An entire detail of secret-service men were entering the side door, which had been opened for them.
Their guns barked, but their hasty aim was too late for the escaping figure. The Shadow sped up the stairs to the second floor, his form virtually invisible in the semidarkness.
“I’ve got him!” shouted one of the agents, as he leveled his automatic and fired into the darkness.
But before the echo of his shots had died away, he heard a mocking sound from the floor above. It was a long, raucous laugh; a laugh that taunted; a laugh that meant much more than mere words.