"All right," said Deacon.
Butcher went through the door toward the stairs. Deacon looked carefully about him. He made sure that everything was as he wanted it. Then, with an air of satisfaction, he followed the path that Butcher had taken.
One minute went by; then another. Something moved at the side of the room. The top of one casket was pushed slowly upward. It was the very coffin that Butcher had started to lift when Deacon had stopped him.
The lid was balanced high, now, and a figure was emerging from the casket. Scarcely more distinct than a black specter, the form slipped from its hiding place. A tall being stood beside the pile of new caskets and gently lowered the raised lid.
Then the black form moved to the center of the room. He seemed like a ghostly phantom in that dimly lighted morgue. The flowing cloak and the slouch hat rendered him impenetrable. It was The Shadow!
Noiselessly, the black apparition strode to the panel that blocked the passage which Major and Ferret had taken. He opened the secret entrance, and stood there, listening. Then his concealed lips emitted a laugh that was both vague and mysterious. It was a soundless, mirthless tremor — a peculiar, guarded tone that made the air reverberate, yet did not carry beyond the walls of that cellar room.
The Shadow stepped through the panel. It closed behind him. His flashlight flickered for a moment; then went out as he felt his way along the corridor.
Hidden in the coffin, The Shadow had anticipated this meeting. Through the narrow slit between the casket and its lid, he had seen and heard. He had learned the plans for this evening, and his shrewd, keen-thinking mind had formulated a plan that would thwart the game that was being played tonight. Stowed away long before Deacon and Major had met, The Shadow's secret presence had never been suspected. He had come from the dark of the coffin. He had entered the dark of the secret corridor. A few minutes after the panel had closed behind The Shadow, Deacon returned to await his companions' return. He had posted Butcher, and had decided to stay downstairs.
All was well, Deacon thought as he stared solemnly about the room. Major and Ferret would do their job. He was ready here. For once, Deacon permitted a slight smile to spread upon his lips. Deacon sensed no danger. There was none. The menace of The Shadow was no longer in this morgue. It had traveled after Major and Ferret.
The Shadow was at work!