THE BIG NIGHT
CROWDS were thronging into the luxurious Club Catalina. The resplendent lights of Seaview City’s brightest cafe threw their reflection across the board walk. The largest crowd of the season had arrived.
From a high room of the Hotel Pavilion, a tall figure watched the gathering throngs. He could see the people wending their way to the Club Catalina. He could also observe the dim lights of the second floor, which shone dully through drawn curtains.
The watcher turned away from the window. He was dressed in evening clothes, and presented an immaculate appearance. His face might have been chiseled from stone, so fixed in expression did it appear.
From a vest pocket, this man withdrew a small card, which bore the name of the manager of the Club Catalina — an underling long in the employ of Big Tom Bagshawe.
Upon the reverse of the card appeared these written words:
Introducing Mr. Lamont Cranston. Accord Membership Privileges.
The card was signed with the manager’s initials. As the hand that held the card moved toward the vest pocket an object sparkled on one finger. The sparkle changed from brilliant blue to a dull deep-set red. Only one rare gem carried those mysteriously changing hues. The stone upon the finger ring was a fire opal.
As Lamont Cranston walked slowly across the room, his firm lips parted, and a low sinister laugh came from between them. No mirth was registered upon that immobile countenance; yet the laugh was weighted with sardonic mockery.
The laugh of The Shadow!