The Shadow was racing death!
CHAPTER XV
THE FOURTH VICTIM
IN a top room of his secluded home, James Throckmorton was seated at a table which served him as a desk. Throckmorton was a man past middle age. He was a student of many subjects, a hobbyist of set ideas.
Tonight, he was alone, wrapped completely in his immediate interest. He was reviewing the first proof sheets of a book which he had prepared on ornithology.
To Throckmorton, this was a task that required the utmost care. The proofs had come from the publisher that afternoon, in exact accordance with a promised delivery.
The study of birds had been a lifelong joy to this man. His comments on the habitats of certain avifauna were matters to which he had given wholehearted consideration.
So absorbed was James Throckmorton that he had paid no attention whatever to the passage of time. This was his one chosen spot when he had work to do, this little room at the top of the house.
Throckmorton had locked himself in this room shortly after eight o’clock. Armed with his favorite pipe, he had set to work to review his writings.
Tobacco smoke clouded the atmosphere; but the man was oblivious to it.