The corridor toward Mann's office was totally dark. The Shadow became a thing of nothingness when he entered it.
His final approach to Mann's office was made with the utmost stealth. No human eye could have discerned his presence. An invisible hand inserted a key in the lock. The door opened softly inward.
Inch by inch, The Shadow moved forward. He seemed to sense the fact that a figure was crouching down the hall ahead—a figure of a man who had not seen The Shadow arrive. When he came into the outer office of the suite, The Shadow stood immovable. The sound of almost inaudible breathing reached his ears.
Some one was in that room!
The Shadow's course lay to the inner office. There he advanced step by step. He had a purpose in that action. Whatever might have happened to Rutledge Mann, it was possible that the investment broker had left some bit of evidence that would lead The Shadow on his trail.
The door of the inner office opened noiselessly. It closed again. The Shadow had reached his objective.
A window shade was drawn softly downward. A light glowed in Rutledge Mann's office.
A peculiarity of the last door through which The Shadow had passed was the fact that it allowed no crevice through which light might pass to the outer room of the suite. The Shadow was as undisturbed as if he had been miles away.
The tall figure, looming grotesquely in the dim light, was at work studying the spot where Rutledge Mann had been captured. He was studying every feature that might give him a clew to the investment broker's strange disappearance.
The faint odor of chloroform was present. The Shadow detected it. He noted the position of the chair beside the desk. He studied the floor, inch by inch, in search of any trace that might betray the identity of the captors.
It was during this inspection that The Shadow paused beside the door of the room. His keen ear listened.
The sound of low voices could be heard outside. An ordinary hearer could not have noted the sound, let alone distinguish the words; but to The Shadow, every syllable was a coherent utterance.
'He oughta been here by now,' Squint Freston was saying. 'You sure he ain't come in?'
'Say—who are we waitin' for, anyway?' came another gangster's reply. 'The Shadow?'
Squint did not answer that question directly. He was evasive in his tone.
'We might be,' he said.
'Well, you was watchin' with us,' said his companion. 'You oughta have seen anybody comin' in.'
'Tell you what'—Squint's tone was emphatic—'I'm goin' to lay in that inner room. The rest of you guys hang out here—all except Prex in the hall an' Gorky in the next room. Slide back, now. I'm goin' in.'
The Shadow's form rose from the door. It moved across the inner room with incredible swiftness. A gloved hand clicked out the light. The same hand raised the window shade and lifted the sash.
The last noiseless operation was scarcely completed before there was a sound of the door opening as Squint came into the room. The little gangster was crouching low. He threw the rays of a flashlight along the floor. He did not see the figure of The Shadow. It was merged with the blackness of the window.
The sash moved noiselessly downward. Squint did not see it. It had closed one second before his light was raised in that direction. The gangster extinguished the flashlight. He closed the door behind him, and laid close to the floor.
OUTSIDE the window, a figure was clinging twenty-one floors above the street. Gripping fingers clutched a projecting cornice as the batlike form moved inch by inch away from the safety of the window ledge. Like a human fly, The Shadow was passing from one window to the next. He completed his precarious journey, and reached the spot he sought.
There, his body resting on the ledge, his firm hands worked with the window sash. It was locked; but a thin wedge of pliable steel took care of the latch.
The black form moved invisibly inward as the sash went up. Then the window closed. The Shadow was in the room which was guarded by a single gangster—the one called Gorky.
Whatever purpose The Shadow may have had—whether he intended a surprise attack or a bold departure— the plan was interrupted by a chance occurrence.
Squint had left one man—Prex—in the corridor to watch. That gangster had become restless. The door of this office was ajar; he had entered to speak to Squint. In order to announce his presence, he performed an action which was contrary to Squint's instructions. He turned on his flashlight.
The rays, which should have reflected from the windowpane, betrayed the presence of The Shadow.
There, in full view, crouched the black-clad figure of the man who had just entered.
Prex saw that sinister shape, which was half turned, ready to glide across the floor. His startled cry gave the alarm to Gorky. The other gangster looked toward the window.
The Shadow held no weapon. The delicate task which he had just performed was one that had required utmost stealth. Prex was carrying a revolver in his right hand; Gorky was similarly armed. Yet neither was ready to fire at a phantom shape coming from the last direction they had anticipated. That fact was The Shadow's opportunity.
The black hands swept to the cloak, and in a twinkling two automatics sprang in view. Gorky and Prex were leveling their guns. One revolver barked— the rod which Prex was carrying. The hasty shot missed its mark. Glass was shattered as the windowpane cracked when the bullet struck it.
Gorky never fired; nor did Prex shoot again. The Shadow's automatics barked simultaneously with the revolver shot. The echo of breaking glass came from where Prex stood as The Shadow's bullet extinguished the flashlight which the gangster held.
That was the only mark at which The Shadow could have fired, so far as Prex was concerned; but Gorky, in the range of light, was a perfect target.
Both gangsters toppled, Prex wounded, Gorky shot through the heart.
With these foemen eliminated, The Shadow sprang to further action. He knew where the next menace lay.
Like a flash, he was across the room to meet the three mobsmen who were springing in from Mann's outer office. A hand had pressed the light switch there; the gangsters piled into the gloomy room where The Shadow stood. They could see the forms of their fallen comrades, and they took no chances. With wild shots they raked the space ahead.
They did not know that The Shadow had anticipated such an attack. The man in black had not been so foolish as to leap into their oncoming path. Instead, he had sidled quickly to the wall beside the door.
As the first gangster came through the doorway, a shot at close range felled him. The other two turned as The Shadow sprang upon them. The first man dropped as The Shadow fired. The other dropped also, unwounded, falling instinctively to take advantage of the protection afforded by the body in front of him.
A revolver flashed upward to deliver a shot at that sweeping apparition.
The Shadow was too quick. In a mighty forward plunge, he cleared the body that lay between him and his enemy. A long, black arm, striking downward, knocked the revolver from the gangster's hand, metal clanking as the automatic hit the other weapon.
With a foul oath, the gangster grappled with his foe. Two forms sprawled upon the floor, away from the door. Then a long arm shot out and aimed its automatic directly into the other room—Mann's outer office.
THE quick eyes of The Shadow had caught a glimpse of a fleeing man - Squint Freston. The evil little gangster had heard the shots. He knew what was happening.
He had run out from Mann's inner office. Seeing the struggle on the floor, he was raising his revolver to make an end to The Shadow—even if such an action meant that he must kill his comrade also.
Now the automatic intervened. The Shadow's finger pressed the trigger as his hand aimed at Squint's heart.
Chance intervened to save the little gangster. The man struggling with The Shadow pressed against the black-clad arm. The automatic barked; the bullet seared Squint's wrist close to the butt of the revolver that was held in the gangster's hand.
With a frightened cry, Squint lost his grasp on the weapon. He dived for the door of the outer office.
Once again, The Shadow fired. The struggle of The Shadow's antagonist again saved Squint. The bullet from
