CHAPTER I
THE SHADOW LISTENS
A WEIRD, mellow light pervaded the somber, black-walled room. The glow had a purplish tinge, and its strange rays centered themselves in a single corner, where they reflected the shining surface of a polished tabletop.
All was silent in that room. It bore the semblance of a chamber of death; and most mysterious of all was the spectral figure that sat before the table. Clothed in a cloak of jet-black hue, with visage obscured by the broad brim of a black slouch hat, this personage possessed the eerie quality of an apparition.
The Shadow was in his sanctum!
A ghostly being, shrouded by darkness, he awaited a message from some outside source. The very walls of the room in which The Shadow dwelt seemed to melt away into nothingness.
Somewhere in New York — in this amazing spot that was known to himself alone — The Shadow was formulating a plan to thwart the plots of evildoers.
A light glowed across the table. Its sudden appearance brought a strange response from the being garbed in black. A creepy sound shuddered through that secret room — a sound that formed itself into a mocking laugh, uttered by unseen lips.
The laugh died away; but its echoes responded from the hidden walls. Those echoes were convulsive reverberations that might have been the cry of a host of ghoulish demons, so unreal was their tone!
A white hand stretched forth from the black robe. Its appearance was uncanny, for it moved like a detached creature as it crept across the surface of the table. The hand stopped upon a switch that was attached to a black box on the wall.