IN the silent temple, far from the street, the noise of smoking revolvers was unheard. The place itself was like a tomb, as Chandra, the Burmese servant, opened the door of the mummy case — the home of Kali to reveal its black interior.
“She must enter!” declared Charn.
A chanting response came from the vague forms on the cushions about the temple. Margaret was urged forward — into the fearful chest that Charn had destined to be her tomb.
Before the silent men alongside the girl could move, a strange thing happened. The rays of the ceiling light had turned directly upon the open mummy chest, to show its interior as a mass of solid inkiness.
A sound issued from that spot — the sound of a gibing laugh. The blackness moved. Instantly, it assumed a human form.
The Shadow stepped from the home of Kali! A living avenger, he had come to save those who were doomed to die. Full in the light he stood, his face hidden by the upturned neck of his cloak and the brim of his broad slouch hat.
Each of his black-gloved hands held an automatic, and the threatening weapons turned slowly back and forth, covering every inch of that mystic room.
Not a person stirred. All were transfixed. The men beside Margaret Glendenning were helpless. The vague forms in the background dared not stir, cowed by the threat of those hidden eyes.
Chandra was trembling. The man on the throne remained as motionless as an image.
To Margaret Glendenning, amazement was profound. She knew that this man was her rescuer. Through her dazed mind came the recollection of that night when she had seen this figure in the temple, standing almost invisible against the wall.