Then the hand drew a circle about the name of Silas Harshaw. It drew another circle about the name of Arthur Wilhelm, and connected the two with a sweeping line.
On the right of the sheet, The Shadow inscribed the names of Max Parker and Homer Briggs.
Evidently there was some connection between the cracksman who had been killed at Harshaw’s, and the servant who had disappeared after leaving the old inventor’s employ.
A phone dial clattered. The light clicked out. A low, hushed voice spoke in the darkness.
“Ready, Burbank,” it said. “Report on H.V.”
The receiver ticked as a voice spoke over the wire. The report was short and definite.
“Tomorrow night,” came the whisper of The Shadow.
The phone call was ended. All was silent in the little room. Then came a shuddering laugh that crept to every corner, and died away in a ghostly echo.
It was the laugh of The Shadow — that ominous laugh that boded ill for men of evil!