The shadowy shape was no longer visible as it moved upward. It did not appear again until it arrived at the tenth floor.
There it emerged from the stairway and slowly transformed itself into a tall, upright form. It approached the door of Silas Harshaw’s apartment, where it assumed the proportions of a human being.
An odd-appearing figure, he stood beside the silent door. He was clad in a black cloak. He wore a black slouch hat that was turned down to cover his features.
There was a weird, sinister appearance in this man. In motion, his easy, gliding stride was uncanny. Standing still, he was even more mysterious.
Minutes ticked by, and the man of the dark gave no sign that he was alive. Then, from hidden lips, came a soft, whispered laugh.
The eerie sound throbbed through the hallway, and echoed back from the walls. It was the laugh of The Shadow!
The pulsating softness of those mysterious reverberations could not be heard through the barrier before which The Shadow stood.
Nor could Mayhew, on the other side of the door, possibly have heard the sound that followed. Metal clicked against metal, yet the noise was scarcely audible.
A key had been inserted in the lock. It worked as perfectly as the duplicate which Mayhew had retained.
The knob turned. The door opened, inch by inch.