The limousine had passed through the Holland Tunnel. It had traveled several miles into New Jersey and was now running along an unimportant highway. The chauffeur pulled up at a small service station.
"Always get my gasoline here, sir," he explained to Fellows, opening the rear door of the car to do so.
"I have no objections." The insurance broker smiled.
The chauffeur closed the door. Fellows shut his eyes and yawned. As he did, he thought he heard the door open and close again. Probably the chauffeur had not shut it tightly the first time.
The limousine was moving again. The insurance broker was completely alone in back; in fact, he was entirely by himself, for the glass partition was closed behind the chauffeur.
"This is really comfortable," he said aloud.
"I agree with you," replied a voice.
* * *
Fellows was startled. The voice had come from the corner of the car. It was black there, for there were no lights along the road. But Fellows was not surprised simply because he heard the voice; it was the tone of the voice that startled him. He had heard it before — long ago — that weird whisper. It had always seemed friendly to him, but he could well imagine it as a voice that could create dread apprehension.
"The Shadow!" he exclaimed.