One man had seen The Shadow’s face — seen it against The Shadow’s will. That man had sought to thwart The Shadow, and for a time his schemes had availed.
But that man no longer lived! Like other foemen of The Shadow, he had gone to deserved oblivion.
For The Shadow, whether in his customary black or in the guise of some adopted personality, was the sworn enemy of those who plotted crime. With law and lawlessness swinging in the balance, The Shadow was the factor who turned the scales in favor of justice.
A master of detection, a man with vast resources, a swift-moving phantom of the dark, The Shadow sought the source of crime and obliterated it.
Of all his amazing abilities, his greatest was his power of action. No odds were too great for The Shadow. His rescue of Cleve Branch, at the Sun Kew, was proof positive of that fact.
AS Henry Arnaud, this man of the dark was now entering his room on the twelfth floor of the hotel. The room contrasted greatly with that room in the Aldebaran Hotel, where Henry Arnaud had disappeared so strangely.
This apartment was a luxurious one — a small suite in itself. One of the most expensive rooms in the St. Thomas, it was furnished in completely modern style. Yet it had one factor in common with Henry Arnaud’s former abode; a factor that was apparent to Henry Arnaud alone.
The tall, dignified man extinguished the light after he had entered the room. He was silent in the darkness. No noise told of his presence, until a click sounded in a corner of the room.
A small light shone above a glass-topped mahogany writing desk. Its rays, covered by a green shade, were spread upon the surface of the desk.
The light gave no sign of Henry Arnaud. That individual had vanished with the darkness. Another personality had replaced him. It was The Shadow who now occupied this room.