Eight o'clock arrived, then nine neared. Cliff was anxious and on edge. While he was trying to maintain his composure, he saw the door move. It opened. In stepped Ivan Orlinov It was with difficulty that Cliff restrained himself from action. He might have overpowered the bearded Russian by a quick encounter, but he deemed it best to wait. He must not spoil The Shadow's well-laid plans.
Orlinov walked toward Cliff and stood glaring at him. The big, bearded man was a menacing figure. Cliff met his sparkling gaze with calmness. He saw one of the mobsmen in the background, holding a revolver in readiness.
This was a time for tact. Yet Cliff was perturbed. He feared that something must have gone awry; that Orlinov had learned that events were scheduled for tonight.
"Marslandt," growled Orlinov, in his deep bass, "I haff come here to speak with you. It iss wise that you should tell me tings that I haff not yet asked to know."
Cliff made no reply. He stared coldly toward his inquisitor. He was tempted to draw his automatic, but knew that such action would provoke a crisis. It was not until the Russian spoke again that Cliff fully understood the import of his visit.
"You haff come here," Orlinov declared, "to make trouble because someone hass sent you. We know who it iss who hass sent you. He iss called The Shadow."
The speaker paused, and his harsh eyes shone furiously as he advanced.
"You will tell us," he hissed. "You will tell us, Marslandt. Who iss The Shadow?"
"I know nothing of The Shadow," Cliff answered.
"We shall see," declared Orlinov, in an ominous growl. "Let me tell you this Marslandt. We haff ways here that can make you tell!"