He had watched the raid with indifference. Not even the presence of so many secret-service men had frightened him. But now he was awed by a shadowy phantom of the past — a flitting form that seemed part of the night.
Stark fear ruled the cunning-faced gangster. His eyes had seen something which they had seen before; yet which he had believed they would never see again.
It was half an hour before the terrorized crook dared to crawl from his hiding place. Then he fled wildly in the direction opposite that in which the vague specter of the night had gone.
Spotter had believed that The Shadow was dead.
It was largely because of that fact that The Shadow had chosen his sweatered disguise. He had known that Spotter might be about. He had wanted to keep the crafty crook under the delusion that gangland’s scourge was no more.
The Shadow had succeeded in that effort, during the fray in Doc Birch’s cellar. But his need for speedy departure had given Spotter a chance to learn the truth. Spotter knew now that The Shadow was not dead.
Tonight, he had seen The Shadow!
CHAPTER XVII
HARRY VINCENT FINDS TROUBLE
Pondering over the strange disappearance that he had witnessed in the cellar of Blair Windsor’s house, Harry Vincent spent the next morning in a quandary. He seemed to have encountered an unsolvable riddle. The more he considered it, the more perplexed he became.