He laughed, but without enjoyment.
"Maybe it is real," he declared. "Hello, shadow! Let's see you wake up!"
His nerve was returning as he uttered the words. But hardly had he finished speaking before his blood was chilled. His hand became limp upon the doorknob.
For the blackness at which he gazed began to move. It did not move toward him. It moved straight upward. It rose like a huge sable specter — a thing that was living, yet which seemed uncanny in the dimness.
Steve Cronin's fear-glazed eyes distinguished the outline of a black cloak with a broad-brimmed black hat that seemed to merge with the form beneath. From between the hat and the cloak glared two eyes that shone like beads of fire!
Then came the voice — a low, ghostly voice; a voice deeper than a whisper. It was a voice that made Steve Cronin tremble, and its tones were weird and chilling.
"Steve Cronin," it said, "I am The Shadow. You summoned me, and I am here."
Silence. The crook could not move. The figure remained motionless, yet real.
"Steve Cronin," said the voice of The Shadow, "I have watched you. Once before I watched you."
Again a pause, and then the voice: