“Because” — Spotter’s voice became a low, awed whisper — “The Shadow was on deck when the Feds raided Doc Birch, last night.”
* * *
Tiger Bronson shrugged his shoulders as though the information meant nothing to him. Spotter knew differently, however. He knew that he must explain further.
“I was aroun’ there,” he said. “Was goin’ by when the bunch blew in on Doc Birch. So I laid low.
“There was a big battle goin’ on inside. A guy got away outa the upstairs window. It wasn’t Doc Birch. Then a cop helps two dicks look for him.
“They all come outa the alley. Then I sees The Shadow. He was the guy they was after. But he ducked them.”
The big man chewed on his cigar, and looked at Spotter quizzically, as though wondering just why the little man had come to tell him all this.
“It makes me kinda uneasy,” confessed Spotter. “Maybe The Shadow has got it in for me — because — because — because Steve Cronin is an old pal of mine. I don’t feel so good with The Shadow prowlin’ aroun’. Honest I don’t, Tiger.”
Tiger Bronson laughed.
“It ain’t no joke, Tiger,” insisted Spotter. “The Shadow will have it in for everybody that had anythin’ to do with croakin’ Reds Mackin. An’ The Shadow is wise. There ain’t nothin’ he can’t find out.”