Tiger Bronson snapped his fingers with a gesture that indicated the cold-blooded ending of a man’s life.
“The Shadow,” repeated Tiger Bronson. “Let him come — like the others did this afternoon. He’ll find what they found — nothing.
“The Shadow!”
It was strange that, as Tiger Bronson repeated the last words, a shadow moved along the floor. It was the same black splotch that Spotter had seen when he had come into the room.
Tiger Bronson did not see it depart. His eyes were on the far wall of the room.
A moment later there was no shadow on the floor.
CHAPTER XIX
TWO AGENTS TALK
At five o’clock the next afternoon, a quiet man of unassuming appearance entered the lobby of the Falcon Hotel, near Broadway.
He took the elevator to the fourth floor; then stopped at room 418 and knocked twice. The door opened. He was admitted. The man who received him was tall and thin, with a keen face.