"Murderer though you are," he declared, "you have a coward's heart. Three
nights ago you killed two men and fled. You were recognized. The police have
been searching for you. They could not find you."
"But I, The Shadow, learned where you were hiding. Now, the police have
learned of this place. They are on their way here. Soon, they will arrive."
Hawk threw a frightened glance toward the heavy door. It was his only way
of escape. Yet he dared not move.
The Shadow laughed. The plight of this trapped killer pleased him.
"But unfortunately," resumed The Shadow, "the police do not move as
swiftly as The Shadow. Knowing that you might be planning an escape, I came
here to hold you for them. Cowards such as you do not belong to The Shadow. So
you may live - with one goal: the electric chair at Sing Sing."
"No! No!" gasped Hawk. "No! Let me go! I'll -"
His words were interrupted by sounds from the hallway outside the room. A
heavy fist pounded on the strong door. Hawk Forster knelt in quaking silence.
"Open in the name of the law!" came through the door.
The muffled command went unheeded. Hawk Forster shuddered as he crouched
against the wall, afraid to move. The Shadow, silent as a statue, made no
attempt to force him.
Sharp blows resounded. Hawk Forster turned his face toward the door. He
could see the stout wood quiver from each blow. Again he faced The Shadow, in
the center of the room.
Hawk's pasty face was pitiful. He knew that he could expect no mercy from
The Shadow; yet he held one furtive hope.
"Let me go!" he pleaded. "If you do, I'll tell! Yes, I'll tell what even
you don't know! I'll give you the lay on the biggest game -"
He stopped as The Shadow laughed. The menacing automatic seemed endowed
with life as it moved slowly forward. The glowing eyes were livid. Hawk Forster
was learning the menace of The Shadow to the full.
To The Shadow, Hawk Forster was just another rat of the underworld. Time
and again, The Shadow had trapped creatures of his ilk. They always pleaded for
mercy - offered to squeal; to barter with The Shadow to save their own worthless
skins. The Shadow had a way of dealing with them.
"You will squeal?" His voice was a harsh, weird whisper. "Squeal, then!
Tell me what you know that I do not know. Speak!"
The words were a command. They offered no conditions. The Shadow's voice
meant doom, with no escape.
Hawk Forster knew it; but his fear of The Shadow made him speak. Against
his will, he squealed, while the battering at the door continued its mighty
tattoo.
"It's a big game!" gasped Hawk. "They've been layin' low until it was
ripe. Now it's all set. But before they start, there's one guy that's due to
get his!"
"Be quick!"
The Shadow's command was terse and low as Hawk paused to lick his thick
lips and stare in terror toward the slowly yielding door.
"Dan Antrim" - Forster was gasping what he knew - "Dan Antrim, the lawyer.
He's crooked. Mixed up with the racket. He's a double-crosser! That's why he's
goin' to get his. It's comin' from a guy that he thinks is -"
The words became a terrified squeal as the cowardly gangster saw the door
