The Shadow had given Roger Parchell the benefit of such doubt up until the very climax of crime’s reign.
Then, in the entry to Sherwood Royce’s art gallery, The Shadow had played the trump that told all. His slump to the floor had been the great move. It had given Roger Parchell the perfect chance to prove himself the master murderer.
Long-fingered hands closed the massive volume wherein the ink had dried on lettered pages. A low laugh shivered through the black-walled sanctum. The Shadow’s victory had been a triumph for the law. The muse of justice had been upheld.
The massive tome beneath The Shadow’s hands contained the details of The Shadow’s work. The amazing record belonged with other annals. Crime, like the book, was closed. The history of “The Third Skull” had become another chronicle for the archives of The Shadow.