"Perhaps you know a bit about me. Perhaps you would like to know more. You have come to the right place to find out. What people learn here, they remember as long as they live. Unfortunately they never live long after that. Strange, isn't it?"
The Shadow was silent. The form seemed to project from the half-drawn curtain against which it stood.
"Those buttons on the wall," observed Isaac Coffran. "Perhaps you pressed them?"
"I pressed them."
"That interests me. On that account, you shall die. I understand now why Pedro looked different. You were Pedro. You have learned much here. You shall forget it all — within an hour. Perhaps within a minute. You shall die, because I do not wish you to live. You are dangerous, alive. You will be helpless, incapable of annoying me, when you are dead."
The old man scanned the figure as if to discover the effect of his words.
"Isaac Coffran." The whispered voice, though low, had penetrating volume. Its words seemed to take shape as they were uttered, as though they were living things. "Isaac Coffran, I shall not die. You would die, if I commanded it. But dead, you would be useless to me. Alive, you may prove useful. So live. But remember" — the voice was solemn and slow — "you live only because I choose to be indulgent."
* * *
The old man moved a step nearer as The Shadow finished speaking. Suddenly he swung his right hand from behind his back. The motion was marvelously quick.
The hand held a small revolver. The finger was on the trigger. The gun covered the silent form by the curtain. Isaac Coffran's keen, beady eyes were searching as they watched the figure of The Shadow.