THERE was a single light in the outer room of the apartment. The door to the study was closed. It was a tight-fitting barrier, and Mayhew was safe with his single light, for no rays could filter into the adjacent room.
It was not the light that The Shadow watched, however. The eyes that were hidden beneath the soft-brimmed hat were studying the detective.
Mayhew was comfortably seated in an easy-chair in the corner of the room. By turning his head from left to right, he could view either door, as he chose.
The Shadow was now inside the room. The door closed silently behind him.
Mayhew, totally oblivious, puffed deeply from his cigar, blew a cloud of smoke ceilingward, and rested his head against the back of the easy-chair.
Simultaneously, The Shadow glided directly in front of him.
The black-clad form seemed to dwindle as it swept noiselessly across the room. The man beneath the cloak had shrunk to half his former size.
While Mayhew still continued to speculate upon the swirling tendencies of heavy smoke, The Shadow arrived at the far end of the room.
Drawing himself up, he became a thin shape that stood motionless beside the door.
Mayhew shook himself and stretched. He glanced toward each door, shifted his position in his chair, and examined his cigar, which was commencing to come apart.