"In a minute," said Burbank quietly.
A slight buzzing began. The small white screen was illuminated. The face of Harry Vincent appeared there, flickering like a motion picture.
The face disappeared; another took its place. It was the face of a square-jawed man — a man with a short mustache and close-cropped hair.
Lamont Cranston focused a small light on a picture which he held in his hand. He compared it with the image on the screen while Burbank looked on with interest.
"Identical," whispered the millionaire.
"Excellent television," replied Burbank.
The Shadow's fingers sought the sending key. They tapped a slow message.
"I am sending an O.K. to Vincent. Do not make any more complaints about static, Burbank. Let them think that it has been eliminated by the new device. I am greatly pleased by the clearness of the images. The television apparatus has proven quite satisfactory. We may have occasion to utilize it further, Burbank."
The image of Major Hubert Weston had disappeared. Burbank turned off the light, and the little screen was dark.
When Richards entered his master's room a short time later he found Lamont Cranston sound asleep in his chair by the window.