Then began a fierce struggle in the blackness. The three Chinamen were grasping for The Shadow. Yet he constantly eluded their clutches.
Their goal was the light switch; he was defending it. Every time a hand reached for the spot, an arm swung from somewhere, and the man went down.
Tiger Bronson was not in the fight. He was at the other side of the room, trying to thrust his huge body into some safe corner.
Loo Look stirred in the passage. The Shadow had left him half unconscious. Now he was able to rise and to stagger forward. He hastened away from the scene of the fray, and reached the bolted door that led into his own room.
There he knocked: twice loudly; twice softly. One of the wounded men opened the door cautiously.
Loo Look staggered into his sanctuary, and sank, breathless, into a chair. He pointed to the door. A Chinaman closed it, and bolted it.
Loo Look glanced upward, and a gleam of triumph appeared upon his face. A light was shining in the frame. Some one was in the corridor that led to the house across the street. The Shadow, believing that Loo Look was incapable of action, was making his escape!
The squat Chinaman watched as the light went out, and another came on. This indicated the course of the fleeing man.
Loo Look arose. The second light went out; a third light came on. It was red. The others had been white.
With a grin, Loo Look pulled a switch. The red light was extinguished. Laughing with fiendish merriment, the Chinaman sank back into his chair.