hotel, particularly since they knew there would be a fuss about Harry's sudden
departure.
The Shadow moved out into the corridor, reached the door of 328. He worked
smoothly, quickly, with the lock. The key of his own room had given him
sufficient idea of what the locks were like throughout the hotel. The door
yielded.
The room was almost pitch-dark for it was at the back of the hotel, away
from any street lights. The Shadow could feel a breeze from the open window.
Approaching, he made out the flat shape of the kitchen roof not far below. There
was another building across the street; blank-walled, it appeared to be the
hotel garage. Two stories high, the building's roof was on a level with the
window where The Shadow stood.
Turning from the wide-opened window, The Shadow moved about the room,
blinking his flashlight in evasive fashion. He was looking for spots that might
offer clues. His light dabbed the wall with a small, luminous circle; then
touched doors, articles of furniture. Finally, it streaked along the floor.
There, The Shadow spied a clue. Straight across from the opened window was
a small table that stood against the inner wall of the room, by the head of the
bedstead. That table was slightly oblong. Marks in the carpet showed that it
should stand endwise, with a short side against the wall.
The table, however, had been moved, to bring one of its broad sides against
the wall. The Shadow saw a reason for the new position. Crosswise, the table
could cover a greater stretch of wall. It had been placed thus to hide something
on the wall.
The logical step was to remove the table from its position. The Shadow
turned out his flashlight. His cloak swished in the darkness; but oddly, there
was no sound of motion from the table. Once or twice, the flashlight blinked in
guarded fashion, that was all. Then came a pause - an interval of fully a dozen
seconds.
That time space was a lull before the surprise that came.
A sudden glare filled the room. It was the beam of a brilliant,
straight-focused spotlight, coming from the garage roof across the way. Blazing
in from darkness, the bright gleam showed the head of the bed; but not the table
beside it. The reason was, that the table stood obscured by a crouched shape
clad in black.
It was a sight that some ambushed observer had hoped to see: The Shadow,
stooped motionless, in front of that table. Hard upon the blaze of light came
another occurrence, so swift that even The Shadow could not have wheeled in time
to escape it. A driving object whistled through the window at terrific speed.
Like an arrow, it found the cloak between the shoulders; drove to a stop and
wavered.
The missile was a knife. It had buried itself full way to the hilt, in the
shape beneath the black cloak. Slowly, the stooping form tumbled forward and
sprawled in huddled fashion in front of the little table.
As the figure stilled upon the floor, the light from the garage roof was
extinguished. Blackness took control along with silence. The death-thrust had
been delivered; assassins were departing from the field. Well had they chosen
their ambush.
