Affirmative expressions came from all.
“Are there any other comments?” asked Cruikshank.
COMPLETE silence followed the question. The ornate clock in the corner chimed the half hour. Men began to rise from the table.
Then came a sudden, chilling moment that ended all motion. The members of the committee were aghast as they heard an awe-inspiring sound.
Through the room crept the weird mockery of a whispered laugh. Rising to an eerie crescendo, it broke like a huge breaker in the surf. Its myriad echoes murmured a dying response.
Into this room — seemingly from nowhere — had come the laugh of The Shadow!
No one stirred. Every man realized that the laugh would be the precursor of some more startling event. Seconds ticked by as they waited breathlessly.
Their faces were startled; even the police chief’s bluff countenance paled. Only Rufus Cruikshank, stern and dignified, retained his composure.
Now a voice swept through the room. A sardonic, whispered voice, it carried the same penetrating tones that had characterized the dreadful laugh.
“Prepare for crime!” declared the voice. “It will strike soon. Be ready! That is my warning.”