“Lucky I came along, wasn’t it? Well, I’m satisfied. The Shadow was going to get Steve Cronin, once. Instead, Steve Cronin got The Shadow!”
The stocky man finished his drink. He snapped his fingers, in farewell, as he walked out of the Black Ship, pausing at the door to light a cigarette.
“Steve Cronin was the right guy,” murmured Spotter, approvingly. “Wait till I tell Bronson. I’ll get five hundred of real cash for the phony bills I paid out.
“Lucky that Steve came to town. He was the ace in the hole. I figured that if The Shadow got as far as him, he’d do the trick.”
He paused a moment.
“I spotted him,” he whispered, in the emptiness of the room. “I know it was him. Reds Mackin ain’t in town. Only The Shadow could have gone through that mill.
“Whew! What if Steve hadn’t been there! Gee! I couldn’t believe they had him, until Steve clinched it by tellin’ me just now.”
A satisfied grin spread over Spotter’s shrewd features. Death to The Shadow! That had been his wish.
Now The Shadow was dead!