Three minutes later, desperate men were on the roof of the house. Though they searched the tops of all the buildings in the block, they failed to find a trace of the being who had disappeared. He had gone — gone like The Shadow that he was!
Police were arriving on the scene, and the ruffians sought safety. They had been sent to Tiger Bronson’s house by the orders of their boss — to capture any one who might be there. They had seen a light in the second-story window, and their attack had been a stealthy one on that account.
When Tiger Bronson arrived at his house, he found the police on duty. He expressed surprise when he learned that burglars had been seen there, and that shots had been fired.
He talked with police detectives. They agreed that it could not have been a robbery. The final opinion was accepted by all.
Some fleeing gangster must have entered Bronson’s home, seeking refuge from others who were on his trail. It was merely a coincidence that the affair had taken place at this location.
Alone in his upstairs room, Tiger Bronson smiled grimly. He cast a stealthy look at the box of pins, which lay exactly as he had left it.
The Shadow had come — but had found nothing. That was exactly what Bronson had expected.
But The Shadow had also gone, in safety. That was something that Tiger Bronson had not expected.