The Shadow's burning eyes glared at the men whom he had trapped. They were helpless, and they knew it. The Shadow had them at his mercy. What did he intend to do?
"Pick up the pistol, Sharrock," said The Shadow in a low, strange whisper. The tall man nodded. He was trying to recover his wits. Mechanically, he obtained the gun which Tremont had dropped on the floor. He stood between the two men whom The Shadow dominated.
"You thought me dead," whispered The Shadow.
He laughed as he addressed these words to Tremont and Savette. The strange emphasis on each uttered syllable made the villains tremble. Men without mercy, they expected none now.
The Shadow was a superman. The fact that he still lived made him more amazing, in their minds, than before.
"You thought me dead," repeated The Shadow. "But I live — as you have learned. I know your schemes in full. I knew your ways of plotting. Money. You needed it, Savette. You were looking for a victim. You found Lamont Cranston."
The Shadow paused, and Savette understood. The echoed mockery of another laugh came as a hateful sound to his ears. The Shadow spoke again.
"What little of your work I did not know," resumed The Shadow, "I have learned tonight. I shall tell you of your crimes, that you may know why I propose grave consequences.
"Austin Bellamy was your first victim. Lawyer betrayed his client; physician, his patient. Your death serum, Savette, worked then for the first time. You spirited Bellamy from your sanitarium, a few years ago. Then came the fire — in which another body was recognized by you as Bellamy's.
"With wealth gained through your pact with Sharrock, you two placed Orlinov in this castle. You became brain thieves. Professor Pierre Rachaud was your first victim. He never sailed on the Albania when it left New York, cruise bound.