“Nothing,” replied Zuvor, lifting his head. “I was perplexed for a moment, that was all. Your shadow — here on the floor. It seems grotesque, when I look at it.”
Lamont Cranston smiled as he sat down.
“It must be the arrangement of the lights,” observed Prince Zuvor, glancing about the room. “It actually startled me for a moment.”
He looked toward the floor again, then added: “It is different now, when you are sitting down.”
“A shadow,” observed Cranston, “is a very unimportant thing. It has no life; in fact, it has no existence. It is, actually, nothingness.”
“Perhaps,” returned Zuvor, “but when one has undergone the experiences that I have, even a shadow can seem very real. Often I have seen shadows that were indications of living men. A shadow may betray the person who owns it, my friend.”
HE took a chair opposite the millionaire, and looked at Cranston thoughtfully.
“I have heard,” said Zuvor, “that there is a man whom they call The Shadow. He is a being who comes and goes, in the darkness of night.”
“Interesting, if true,” remarked Cranston. “I should be pleased to meet the fellow.”
“The Shadow;” mused Prince Zuvor, “is considered a reality by men of the criminal class. They mention his name with awe. They know that he exists — yet they have never managed to trace him.