The clock on Sherwood Mayo's mantel was nearing two o'clock. It brought no comfort to two bound men who rested on the floor. One was Jeremiah Benson. The other was Louie, the Filipino. The Shadow had surprised Mayo's servant. He had clicked handcuffs on the wrists of both his captives. Standing above the prisoners, The Shadow was a tall figure of black. Jeremiah Benson, staring upward, could barely detect the gleam of two burning eyes beneath the masking hat. A laugh came from the hidden lips.
"Your crimes are at an end!" came a sinister, jibing voice. "You have lived too long, Jeremiah Benson. You are waiting now — waiting the arrival of the only man to whose instructions you have ever submitted. Sherwood Mayo will be here soon!"
"I don't know Mayo," snarled Benson.
The Shadow ignored the protest.
"I divined your game long ago," said The Shadow. "I have heard of your past doings, Benson. You were a man who specialized in blackmail and in murder — you and your evil henchman, Grady. Blackmail was preferable. Murder was useful — when necessary.
"You finally encountered one man who thwarted your schemes — Sherwood Mayo. But he offered you a greater field.
"Backed by his millions, you were to embark upon a greater career. But first, Mayo had work for you to do. His hands were not clean. There were persons who knew too much about him.
"One was Herbert Brockley. He eluded you. So his murder was arranged in France, through hired assassins. But Brockley, fearing his end, gave important papers to a man named Wallace Powell.
"Those papers were dangerous for Mayo. Powell knew Sidney Delmuth — a newcomer in the blackmail ring — an agent whom Mayo himself had provided. Through Delmuth, a meeting was arranged between you and Powell.
"Ten thousand dollars for his information. But Powell never received his money. He knew too much. Grady killed him.