It revealed a man seated by a table upon which rested a pair of earphones and a mouthpiece. In front of the man was a peculiar instrument — a little box with a tiny dial on the top.
The man’s face was hidden as he looked downward. He stretched his hand forward. His fingers rested on the knob, about to turn it. Then his hands spread and he looked up suddenly as he fancied he heard a noise near by.
The man was Matthew Wade. A strange, evil look was on his full face. He stared down the corridorlike room in momentary alarm. Then he became transfixed. From the other end of the room a figure stepped forward. A man was approaching, clad in black. His face was hidden in the folds of a black cloak. A slouch hat covered his eyes. An automatic showed in his outstretched hand — a hand that wore a silken glove of black.
“The Shadow!”
The dread name was gasped by Matthew Wade.
“Yes!” came a hissing voice. “The Shadow! Come to end the fiendish schemes of a murderer!”
“I am in my home,” growled Wade without moving his hands.
“The home of a monster,” came The Shadow’s whisper.
“You can prove nothing!” exclaimed Wade.
A low, whispered laugh was the reply. It struck terror into Wade’s evil heart. The laugh seemed more fearful than the man who uttered it!