Flash turned and went ahead, his footsteps echoing as he walked. He moved into the darkness of the side passage. There he waited for a moment. There was no sound.
Flash moved along. He was satisfied now that no person was lurking in the outer corridor. He reached the elevator and entered.
An instant later, there were two clicks, and the door closed, while the light came on. Flash was staring at the walls of the shaft as the lift crept toward the roof.
The racketeer was a trifle impatient at the slow progress. He looked upward and gave no thought to the little compartment in which he was riding.
So close that a mere motion of the racketeer’s arm would have warned him of another presence, stood a tall form clad in black. Silently, gliding in like a ghost, the man had entered the elevator in the darkness, simultaneously with Flash Donegan!
The being in black might have been Donegan’s shadow, for his entire shape was of that sable hue. Donegan was wearing a soft hat. His coat was open, and a scarf hung over his shoulders.
The solid shadow behind him was almost a replica of his contour. The large hat, the edges of the cloak, the black-gloved hands — all these were a fantastic representation. But this shadow was a living one. It was — The Shadow!
THE elevator stopped at the top of the shaft. It reached an opening. Flash Donegan stepped out and walked along the dim corridor ahead. Softly, noiseless as any shadow, the man in black followed.
Flash turned into a dark entrance at the side of the corridor. The Shadow kept on and sidled against the wall.
His action was a timely one. The racketeer, acting upon some sudden impulse, leaned back from the opening which he had entered, and threw a suspicious glance back along the corridor to the elevator.