She stared at the paper in her hands.
Thelda: Go. Tonight. Home.
There was no signature. The message needed none. The girl now understood it all.
Her former love for Albert Palermo had become a shoddy sham. She hated the name of the man. Her new love for George Clarendon was denied her.
The temptress had been conquered. For the first time in her life she felt remorse.
A man passing in the outside hall paused a moment; then went on. He had heard a woman sobbing.
The sound came from the same apartment where The Shadow had heard a woman’s song.
CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE LAIR
A MAN entered the lobby of the Marimba Apartments, carrying a suitcase. His stride betokened familiarity with the place. He passed the lobby attendant and entered the elevator where he stepped out of view into a convenient corner. The hallman came questioningly toward the elevator.
“It’s all right,” said the operator, leaning from the door. “Going up to that party on the thirty-fourth floor.”